I went to a Hanukkah dinner last night and my gosh the journey home was torturous to say the least, and a trip that should have taken maybe 30-40 minutes instead took 2 hours and a change of buses! This is one of the times when I miss living in London and all the public transportation opportunities there are there. Still, all told it was a goodnight, even though one of the three Rabbis in attendance was giving me death stares all night. Why was he doing that? Well a few months ago I blogged about an old lady from our congregation who had died and this Rabbi refused permission for her to be buried in a Jewish cemetery as she had left the faith and not formally returned so therefore wasn’t the right type of Jew! Never mind the fact that she was one of the last Kindertransprt evacuees and had lost every single member of her family. So I took it upon myself to go above this Rabbi and go straight to the top ranking people in charge of who gets buried where. I cut out the middle man so to speak. They gave permission and she is now in her rightful place. Since then its been made difficult for me at the community but fuck him, he’s a cunt and I don’t regret my actions for a second. I don’t suppose I helped myself when I wrote a piece for a Jewish newsletter arguing that the role of the Rabbi was largely irrelevant to todays Jewish life.
In other news I’ve had a health problem going on. Nothing major but I had been getting the most amazingly irritating allergic reaction on my lower legs and arms. It used to be just an itch, and I would scratch until I bled sometimes I would use an emollient cream to soothe it but in the last 2-3 weeks it’s got so bad that my arms have come up bright, lobster red. Not just that but it’s gone scaly and it’s weeping blood. Not good right? So I took myself down the minor injuries unit at the hospital and they said there’s nothing they can do, I had to go see my G.P who needed to refer me back to the hospital I was already in (!) which is where I toddled off to. The G.P then refused to refer me before I had completed the 2 week course of medication. The first day of that was that same Hanukkah Saturday and what happened? It made things even worse. My skin feels like it’s alive and crawling. So bearing in mind the hospitals words to come back if it gets worse I am off to the same place tomorrow after work.
So you’d think that would stop me training? Not a bit of it. I may not be able to wear wraps or gloves at the moment but I can still run, I can still do circuits and I can still do weights.
I jut want to get it sorted now, as every time I look up symptoms online I get confused and scared!
Monday, 10 December 2012
Sunday, 25 November 2012
Scum
I’m not sure why this is playing on my mind so much or why im so angry but I am still simmering under with righteous fury at the present time.
On Friday, at about mid day someone jumped top their death form a multi story car park about 5 minutes from my place. This car park is right opposite the jobcentre, place that would suck the life out of even the brightest person so it is surprising it’s taken this long for someone to off themselves in such a way. I know I’m drawing conclusion there but hey, I’m pretty sure I’m right.
I found out about this when I got back to town after work. I get along quite well with the woman that works in the delicatessen and I usually pop in there for chat and to bagsy freebies to take home (olives stuffed with jalapeños are the dogs bollocks!). She told me of the suicide and said that the mall security had told her the jumper had landed within a few feet of an old lady who was rushed to hospital for shock. They also said they and the emergency services had to push back the crowds of people that were taking pictures of the scene.
I cannot express enough my contempt for the vultures that did that. How on earth can they find the scene of a sad demise entertaining? Have we, as a society become so bereft of common decency that it’s deemed socially acceptable to whip out your phone and start snapping away? I feel for the person that felt so hopeless that they took the only option they felt they had left. I feel for the old lady that saw that happen right in front of her, a horror that I cant begin to imagine and I also feel fore the first responders, that have to deal with the aftermath and the for those that loved the deceased.
The crowd of people that gaggled at the site of gore? I can’t feel anything for them except contempt and hate.
On Friday, at about mid day someone jumped top their death form a multi story car park about 5 minutes from my place. This car park is right opposite the jobcentre, place that would suck the life out of even the brightest person so it is surprising it’s taken this long for someone to off themselves in such a way. I know I’m drawing conclusion there but hey, I’m pretty sure I’m right.
I found out about this when I got back to town after work. I get along quite well with the woman that works in the delicatessen and I usually pop in there for chat and to bagsy freebies to take home (olives stuffed with jalapeños are the dogs bollocks!). She told me of the suicide and said that the mall security had told her the jumper had landed within a few feet of an old lady who was rushed to hospital for shock. They also said they and the emergency services had to push back the crowds of people that were taking pictures of the scene.
I cannot express enough my contempt for the vultures that did that. How on earth can they find the scene of a sad demise entertaining? Have we, as a society become so bereft of common decency that it’s deemed socially acceptable to whip out your phone and start snapping away? I feel for the person that felt so hopeless that they took the only option they felt they had left. I feel for the old lady that saw that happen right in front of her, a horror that I cant begin to imagine and I also feel fore the first responders, that have to deal with the aftermath and the for those that loved the deceased.
The crowd of people that gaggled at the site of gore? I can’t feel anything for them except contempt and hate.
Saturday, 24 November 2012
Friday, 23 November 2012
Pram Face
Well hello there.
Just recently, within a few days of each other two things of a similar and oh so scary nature happened to me.
First of all Charlotte, my betrothed called me form France and told me she needed to do a pregnancy test as she was late coming on her period and though I may have put a bun in her oven! I made all sorts of non committal noises whilst suppressing feelings of panic. The test came back negative by the way but it has brought forth a discussion on contraception and what we will do if she does get pregnant.
Then, maybe 3 days or so later I was walking along Chatham High St and I saw an ex girlfriend of mine walking in my direction. This doris is younger than me and we never did have a lasting relationship, it was much more of a fling and to be honest, a lot of really dirty sex. However this girl, as she wended her way towards me was pushing a pram! It’s been maybe a year since I last saw her and so my mind went into overdrive somewhat. When we eventually got to talking it became really obvious the baby wasn’t mine, the chief evidence of this being that the thoroughly adorable baby was of mixed ethnicity. I blew a mental sigh of relief.
This has all played on my mind a bit though. Is it that I don’t think I am ready to be a parent? Is that a stupid notion given that I am advancing in years, bearing down upon 34? When I do eventually become a father, what sort of dad would I be? I suppose these are thoughts that trouble all parents abut for me I am especially nervous given that my parental example is a fuckwit!
(if you were curious I favour the names Ilsa and Eleanor for girls and for boys I like Charlie and Jefferson)
Just recently, within a few days of each other two things of a similar and oh so scary nature happened to me.
First of all Charlotte, my betrothed called me form France and told me she needed to do a pregnancy test as she was late coming on her period and though I may have put a bun in her oven! I made all sorts of non committal noises whilst suppressing feelings of panic. The test came back negative by the way but it has brought forth a discussion on contraception and what we will do if she does get pregnant.
Then, maybe 3 days or so later I was walking along Chatham High St and I saw an ex girlfriend of mine walking in my direction. This doris is younger than me and we never did have a lasting relationship, it was much more of a fling and to be honest, a lot of really dirty sex. However this girl, as she wended her way towards me was pushing a pram! It’s been maybe a year since I last saw her and so my mind went into overdrive somewhat. When we eventually got to talking it became really obvious the baby wasn’t mine, the chief evidence of this being that the thoroughly adorable baby was of mixed ethnicity. I blew a mental sigh of relief.
This has all played on my mind a bit though. Is it that I don’t think I am ready to be a parent? Is that a stupid notion given that I am advancing in years, bearing down upon 34? When I do eventually become a father, what sort of dad would I be? I suppose these are thoughts that trouble all parents abut for me I am especially nervous given that my parental example is a fuckwit!
(if you were curious I favour the names Ilsa and Eleanor for girls and for boys I like Charlie and Jefferson)
Friday, 9 November 2012
No Title Needed
I don't know why but this video from Youtube is making me blub like a big sissy.
Freddy Mercury was such a wonderful man and such a great talent and AIDS is such an evil bastard disease.
Freddy Mercury was such a wonderful man and such a great talent and AIDS is such an evil bastard disease.
Sunday, 4 November 2012
Congratulations and Jubiliations?
I happen to think that I have done really well with getting
in shape; I’ve dropped a ton of weight and look fantastic.
Those that have known me before I started out on this
journey (sorry for that wanky term) keep congratulating me for getting to this
stage, where I weigh 150lbs less then I did when I started, dropping 14 inches
off my waist etc. Now it is obviously always good to hear nice things about you
but getting in shape is its own reward really and recently I’ve been asking myself
if I should be rewarded for doing this.
I don’t think I should really and neither should anyone
else. Its fine to say I look great or remark that I’ve dropped weight but
saying well done? No.
Whys that?
Because I wasn’t fucking well supposed to weigh 24 n a bit
st! No one is supposed to weigh that much unless they’re 7ft tall! Don’t say
well done to someone getting there, they don’t need it. Instead say “well it
took you long enough!”
Saturday, 3 November 2012
Wow!
A few posts back I moaned about my relationship with my
utter fuckwit of a father. I don’t really do pity, much less self pity so I won’t
stress the point but if he were to croak tomorrow I wouldn’t cry any tears.
One of the main sticking points twixt Sean and I (I can’t
bring myself to call him Dad), is that he had virtually no contact with me when
i was growing and I also was aware that he had another child, a daughter who
was around 10 years younger then me. I’ve only seen her once and therein lays a
tale that shows how sad my ‘connection’ to my family is. I was 13 or so and was
waling up the Walworth road in south London with my gran. She stopped to chat
to some guy that i didn’t recognise that was pushing a buggy with two babies in
it. I had to be told that this man was my dad and one of the girls was my
sister. Since then I’ve not seen her at all.
It’s always played on my mind for one reason and another and
I have made several unsuccessful attempts to find her. I had all but given up
hope of ever seeing her again; after all it had been about 20 years since we
had met.
So why am i regaling you with this tale of woe? Two reason
really, firstly this is my blog and I can write what the fuck I want to and secondly,
on Sunday past, Stephanie inboxed me on Facebook!
Sunday, 7 October 2012
For All The Bloaters Out There...
...
There's a reason for my poor mood, I nearly got run over by a HUGE bloke in a mobility scooter on the high st earlier and he had the nerve to have a go at me!
There's a reason for my poor mood, I nearly got run over by a HUGE bloke in a mobility scooter on the high st earlier and he had the nerve to have a go at me!
Saturday, 29 September 2012
Decisions Decisions
So with the downtime with my internet hookup, i've been doing some thinking about this blog.
I did write several articles ago about expanding my blogging. I have kicked off a movie blog but do i keep this one as a fitness journal type of thing and then do another general interest one? I want to do photo blogging as well so should I meld all that or keep it seperate?
Decisions, decisions!
I did write several articles ago about expanding my blogging. I have kicked off a movie blog but do i keep this one as a fitness journal type of thing and then do another general interest one? I want to do photo blogging as well so should I meld all that or keep it seperate?
Decisions, decisions!
Remember Me?
Have you missed me? I can tell you something, BT suck major, major donkey dick and they’re the reason I’ve not been online.
The health scare I had is sorted, more or less so that’s a relief. The chap who started the whole drama off at work has been sacked. The reason why? Well when he first started he told everyone he had a severely disabled son and he made great hay out of fundraising for hospitals etc. Not only was he a racist wanker but he utterly made up having a disabled kid and the money was taken in fraud. What an utter tosser!
Things with Charlotte are moving along nicely. We had a lovely evening in London the other week. I decided to surprise her and told her to be at Rochester station at 1400. We got to London (£20 return each! Fucking hell!), and took in the National Gallery which was lovely, and I’ll return to my thoughts on art in a later blog. After that we had an arm in arm stroll around Trafalgar Square and we then wound our way to Leicester Square.
We did a fair bit of people watching before we got hypnotised by the bright lights and loud sounds coming from this place. I loved it, in a sort of horror show kind of way. There were pyjamas, t shirts, pens, cat collars and dog leads (I bought one of those for Milly) and basically just about everything you can think of with the M&Ms logo and characters plastered across them. There are 4 floors of relentless consumerism and the cap on the bottle is the Colour Room, a room filled with tall cylinders of every colour of M&M you can imagine. I resisted the urge to splurge but the way some people were filling bags up with candy was a little frightening.
After that we went to a video games arcade where I was soundly whupped at Mario Kart. From there we wound our way round the streets looking for somewhere to eat. We passed on the eateries in Chinatown, seeing as most of Chinese cooking here is full of grease and all sorts of bad stuff. We were going to go for steak but the first place we checked was prohibitively expensive and the second was massively busy. We settled on an Italian place on Charing Cross Road, and it was very nice indeed. We got our train home after a stroll through town and a full on snog fest in Covent Garden.
Actually, I wont want to go too sugary but I had a conversation with Charlotte earlier. See, her parents are very well off and have taken early retirement and bought a farm in France. This Christmas they’re going on vacation and just so the rest of the family here in Medway eat properly (coz us being adults, we cant cook) have decided to hire a restaurant on Christmas Day and that now extends to me as well. Being part of a proper couple makes me all warm and fuzzy!
The health scare I had is sorted, more or less so that’s a relief. The chap who started the whole drama off at work has been sacked. The reason why? Well when he first started he told everyone he had a severely disabled son and he made great hay out of fundraising for hospitals etc. Not only was he a racist wanker but he utterly made up having a disabled kid and the money was taken in fraud. What an utter tosser!
Things with Charlotte are moving along nicely. We had a lovely evening in London the other week. I decided to surprise her and told her to be at Rochester station at 1400. We got to London (£20 return each! Fucking hell!), and took in the National Gallery which was lovely, and I’ll return to my thoughts on art in a later blog. After that we had an arm in arm stroll around Trafalgar Square and we then wound our way to Leicester Square.
We did a fair bit of people watching before we got hypnotised by the bright lights and loud sounds coming from this place. I loved it, in a sort of horror show kind of way. There were pyjamas, t shirts, pens, cat collars and dog leads (I bought one of those for Milly) and basically just about everything you can think of with the M&Ms logo and characters plastered across them. There are 4 floors of relentless consumerism and the cap on the bottle is the Colour Room, a room filled with tall cylinders of every colour of M&M you can imagine. I resisted the urge to splurge but the way some people were filling bags up with candy was a little frightening.
After that we went to a video games arcade where I was soundly whupped at Mario Kart. From there we wound our way round the streets looking for somewhere to eat. We passed on the eateries in Chinatown, seeing as most of Chinese cooking here is full of grease and all sorts of bad stuff. We were going to go for steak but the first place we checked was prohibitively expensive and the second was massively busy. We settled on an Italian place on Charing Cross Road, and it was very nice indeed. We got our train home after a stroll through town and a full on snog fest in Covent Garden.
Actually, I wont want to go too sugary but I had a conversation with Charlotte earlier. See, her parents are very well off and have taken early retirement and bought a farm in France. This Christmas they’re going on vacation and just so the rest of the family here in Medway eat properly (coz us being adults, we cant cook) have decided to hire a restaurant on Christmas Day and that now extends to me as well. Being part of a proper couple makes me all warm and fuzzy!
Friday, 7 September 2012
Showing Off!
I’m not one given to showing off but damn I’m good!
Weighed myself last night after training before I started the 3 and a half mile trot home (I resent the hell out of paying for a bus or train for that measly a distance), and I’m now bang on 14 stone or for you foreign types out there, 196lbs whereas when I started training, I was 340lbs. I have become really quite broad across the shoulders and in old English, I’m built like a brick shithouse. I look pretty fucking good when I look at myself in the mirror.
See, working out and getting fit is hard and its supposed to be or there’d be no point in doing it, but the rewards are beyond measure. Not only am I fit the literal sense (9 rounds of hard sparring? Bring it on!) but I’m pretty darned fit in the pejorative sense. This is where I don’t understand the mindset of the people, that despite major evidence to the contrary, cant seem to get their fat heads round the fact that exercise is good for you.
I was called a body fascist the other day by someone when I commented that the lard bucket I saw eating a large bag of crisps maybe should swap them for some fruit. I don’t get the trend for telling people it’s ok to weight 350lbs, that being fat means you’re beautiful and perfectly normal. No you’re not and it’s massively irresponsible to tell you otherwise. We cant give out the mixed messages of healthy eating on one hand and then mollycoddling fatties on the other. Yes it’s rude of me to look down my nose at the obese but they’re the ones who made themselves that way, not me and no amount of patting them on the back and saying it’s ok to eat a family bucket of KFC all to yourself is going to make them feel better, not really.
Weighed myself last night after training before I started the 3 and a half mile trot home (I resent the hell out of paying for a bus or train for that measly a distance), and I’m now bang on 14 stone or for you foreign types out there, 196lbs whereas when I started training, I was 340lbs. I have become really quite broad across the shoulders and in old English, I’m built like a brick shithouse. I look pretty fucking good when I look at myself in the mirror.
See, working out and getting fit is hard and its supposed to be or there’d be no point in doing it, but the rewards are beyond measure. Not only am I fit the literal sense (9 rounds of hard sparring? Bring it on!) but I’m pretty darned fit in the pejorative sense. This is where I don’t understand the mindset of the people, that despite major evidence to the contrary, cant seem to get their fat heads round the fact that exercise is good for you.
I was called a body fascist the other day by someone when I commented that the lard bucket I saw eating a large bag of crisps maybe should swap them for some fruit. I don’t get the trend for telling people it’s ok to weight 350lbs, that being fat means you’re beautiful and perfectly normal. No you’re not and it’s massively irresponsible to tell you otherwise. We cant give out the mixed messages of healthy eating on one hand and then mollycoddling fatties on the other. Yes it’s rude of me to look down my nose at the obese but they’re the ones who made themselves that way, not me and no amount of patting them on the back and saying it’s ok to eat a family bucket of KFC all to yourself is going to make them feel better, not really.
Sunday, 2 September 2012
There's Something In The Air
So I’ve been seeing someone for a few weeks now. Her name is charlotte and she’s several years younger than me. She works as a anaesthesiologist in the hospital in town and she lives in the posh end of Medway. Her part of town only has a few drunks defecating outside!
We met at the Dickens Festival in Rochester where she was at the cider bar with her friends. I got her number and we took things from there. We’ve both decided that instead of jumping into bed right away and rushing things we are going to do it all the old fashioned way of courting. that’s a long winded way of saying I’m really quite fond of her and don’t want to balls it all up.
You may question why I’m telling you this and that reason?
I just like to show off!
Cupid sure did take his sweet, sweet time in drawing back his bow but the arrow has surely hit home.
We met at the Dickens Festival in Rochester where she was at the cider bar with her friends. I got her number and we took things from there. We’ve both decided that instead of jumping into bed right away and rushing things we are going to do it all the old fashioned way of courting. that’s a long winded way of saying I’m really quite fond of her and don’t want to balls it all up.
You may question why I’m telling you this and that reason?
I just like to show off!
Cupid sure did take his sweet, sweet time in drawing back his bow but the arrow has surely hit home.
Friday, 31 August 2012
In My Corner
I know it sounds very self aggrandising but I am utterly loyal to those I care about. I would quite happily stand shoulder to shoulder with them when its all kicking off as I know they’d do the same for me. Its like jail, a subject ill return to. In there are some very untrustworthy people (shock there!) banged up. However, I did make some very good friends in the grey bar hotel and given the nature of jail, sometimes situations would occur where it would be time for us to step up and stand with out friends, whether it be against another con or a screw. Thankfully it didn’t happen too often.
You may think there’s no reason for me to be on this train of thought but you’d be wrong, oh so very wrong.
See, the gym I mostly use is split in two, both literally and figuratively. There are 2 rooms, and the room I train in is run by John, my coach whereas the other room is run by Chris who is also the gym owner. Us that train with John are seen as a club with in a club and that’s fine by me. However for a couple reasons Chris is jealous of John and constantly runs him down, but not in obvious ways. Last night we got in and were about to start our warm up (50 x press ups, 50 x squat thrusts, 50 x star jumps and 50 x tuck jumps) when Tony, one of the other coaches came in and said we were all to go into Chris’s room to watch a DVD on the basics of boxing. Now I’ve been training for more than 2 years and I know my stuff. Some of the others in with me have been training for over 15 years. The tone was very condescending and the thing went on for 30 minutes. That’s a quarter of the session gone. As we filed out, Chris made a few barbed comments and I copped the raving hump.
John took me to one side as he could see I was fuming.
He said that he didn’t want to see me fuck things up now, given that I am close to my goal of a fight. He also said that he wants to achieve my goal with me and that he’d be in my corner the entire way. He said that seeing me climb into the ring would be one of his proudest moments, as good as seeing Louis, his son, win a tournament. He told me not to let it go, not now as he wanted to achieve all that with me and that if I did screw it up, I would let him down.
I cannot tell you how much of a boost that was to me. I know that at it’s purest, I’ll be fighting for me, that there’ll will physically only be me in the ring but I know full well that I’ll have John behind me and I’ll be representing him. Without wanting to sound gushing, if John told me to go run through a brick wall, I’d give it a go. I do not know if this will come across well but that’s about the only way I can explain it.
You may think there’s no reason for me to be on this train of thought but you’d be wrong, oh so very wrong.
See, the gym I mostly use is split in two, both literally and figuratively. There are 2 rooms, and the room I train in is run by John, my coach whereas the other room is run by Chris who is also the gym owner. Us that train with John are seen as a club with in a club and that’s fine by me. However for a couple reasons Chris is jealous of John and constantly runs him down, but not in obvious ways. Last night we got in and were about to start our warm up (50 x press ups, 50 x squat thrusts, 50 x star jumps and 50 x tuck jumps) when Tony, one of the other coaches came in and said we were all to go into Chris’s room to watch a DVD on the basics of boxing. Now I’ve been training for more than 2 years and I know my stuff. Some of the others in with me have been training for over 15 years. The tone was very condescending and the thing went on for 30 minutes. That’s a quarter of the session gone. As we filed out, Chris made a few barbed comments and I copped the raving hump.
John took me to one side as he could see I was fuming.
He said that he didn’t want to see me fuck things up now, given that I am close to my goal of a fight. He also said that he wants to achieve my goal with me and that he’d be in my corner the entire way. He said that seeing me climb into the ring would be one of his proudest moments, as good as seeing Louis, his son, win a tournament. He told me not to let it go, not now as he wanted to achieve all that with me and that if I did screw it up, I would let him down.
I cannot tell you how much of a boost that was to me. I know that at it’s purest, I’ll be fighting for me, that there’ll will physically only be me in the ring but I know full well that I’ll have John behind me and I’ll be representing him. Without wanting to sound gushing, if John told me to go run through a brick wall, I’d give it a go. I do not know if this will come across well but that’s about the only way I can explain it.
Sunday, 26 August 2012
Sunday, Bloody Sunday
This morning, I woke up early doors and decided to use the opportunity to go a little run. Nothing major, just a hill sprint and then a circuit of The Lines. As I ran up there I saw a couple of things that gave me pause for thought. Well by that meant they played on my mind a little, I didn’t literally stop.
As I went along one path in particular, one that is lined with benches for people to pause on (parts of The Lines are very steep), I was stunned to see the amount of dirty needles, broken glass and drugs paraphernalia just left lying around. I shouldn’t be surprised by the depths that humanity can sink to but seeing it in what is a beautiful place, with lots of lovely wildlife upset me a little. Perhaps it is the juxtaposition of the bucolic splendour of an early morning shared with foxes, badgers and such with the squalor of the waste that us humans can leave behind.
As I wound round the rest of the Lines, I tried putting that out of my mind. I was doing fairly well, with the tunes blasting out of my iPod until I came through one of the wooded areas. I’m fairly open minded and all that but there’s not a lot that could have prepared me for coming across two men rumping! I didn’t stay to watch, I carried on right past, lest they invite me to join in their early morning rendezvous!
I got home nice n tired and somewhat mentally scarred and took care of the pets, feeding all of them. I watched a little telly and then got the hump with that and decided to pop out. Now I know I may have said before how I would quite happily kill most of the population of Medway. Think of it liking pruning the dead leaves from a tree. Anyhow, we have more than our fair share of colourful characters, and that is a nice way of saying it! One of these ‘people’ is the Whistling Busker. Now you’ll have to forgive the Youtube video. The two men there come across aright douche bags but the Whistling Busker is beyond annoying. He’s not above stealing from charity shops. Anyway I saw him acting inappropriate around two busty young maidens. Now in all fairness they had 4 fantastic breasts between them but he was leaning right over and leering at them. They were clearly uncomfortable with this. I went over to fuck him off but as I got there, a guy from the coffee shop opposite had the same idea and we both encouraged him to leave.
After that charming interlude I just sort of mooched through Chatham high st, with nothing in particular to do. It was a nice day out, not too hot and so I did something ive not done for a long while. I bought some bread and went to the riverside and fed the wildfowl. I’m not sure why I like doing that but it does fill me with an enormous sense of wellbeing. It’s one of my favoured places in Medway and when I get the photo aspect of this blog up and running, I look forward to showing you exactly why.
Aside from that I aint really
As I went along one path in particular, one that is lined with benches for people to pause on (parts of The Lines are very steep), I was stunned to see the amount of dirty needles, broken glass and drugs paraphernalia just left lying around. I shouldn’t be surprised by the depths that humanity can sink to but seeing it in what is a beautiful place, with lots of lovely wildlife upset me a little. Perhaps it is the juxtaposition of the bucolic splendour of an early morning shared with foxes, badgers and such with the squalor of the waste that us humans can leave behind.
As I wound round the rest of the Lines, I tried putting that out of my mind. I was doing fairly well, with the tunes blasting out of my iPod until I came through one of the wooded areas. I’m fairly open minded and all that but there’s not a lot that could have prepared me for coming across two men rumping! I didn’t stay to watch, I carried on right past, lest they invite me to join in their early morning rendezvous!
I got home nice n tired and somewhat mentally scarred and took care of the pets, feeding all of them. I watched a little telly and then got the hump with that and decided to pop out. Now I know I may have said before how I would quite happily kill most of the population of Medway. Think of it liking pruning the dead leaves from a tree. Anyhow, we have more than our fair share of colourful characters, and that is a nice way of saying it! One of these ‘people’ is the Whistling Busker. Now you’ll have to forgive the Youtube video. The two men there come across aright douche bags but the Whistling Busker is beyond annoying. He’s not above stealing from charity shops. Anyway I saw him acting inappropriate around two busty young maidens. Now in all fairness they had 4 fantastic breasts between them but he was leaning right over and leering at them. They were clearly uncomfortable with this. I went over to fuck him off but as I got there, a guy from the coffee shop opposite had the same idea and we both encouraged him to leave.
After that charming interlude I just sort of mooched through Chatham high st, with nothing in particular to do. It was a nice day out, not too hot and so I did something ive not done for a long while. I bought some bread and went to the riverside and fed the wildfowl. I’m not sure why I like doing that but it does fill me with an enormous sense of wellbeing. It’s one of my favoured places in Medway and when I get the photo aspect of this blog up and running, I look forward to showing you exactly why.
Aside from that I aint really
Saturday, 25 August 2012
Let The Games Begin
Over this bank holiday weekend here in my home town there’s a sporting event going on. Not the Olympics, though that would be cool. In actual fact I am miles more excited about this one.
It’s the Transplant Games, an opportunity for people who have had organ transplants to compete.
Just think about that for a second. These men and women (and children) have had major surgery and still want to get out there and run, throw and whatever. For me that is even more impressive then some of those competing in London who have been handheld the way through, not to diminish their achievement of course. I’m heading up to watch some of it over the weekend.
Now here’s the thing. Given the Olympics, given the Paralympics next week and the Transplant Games this weekend, what excuse will the bloaters give for stuffing their face with crap or not doing any exercise? How they can be so gross when even a 6 year old can run a race after having surgery?
It’s the Transplant Games, an opportunity for people who have had organ transplants to compete.
Just think about that for a second. These men and women (and children) have had major surgery and still want to get out there and run, throw and whatever. For me that is even more impressive then some of those competing in London who have been handheld the way through, not to diminish their achievement of course. I’m heading up to watch some of it over the weekend.
Now here’s the thing. Given the Olympics, given the Paralympics next week and the Transplant Games this weekend, what excuse will the bloaters give for stuffing their face with crap or not doing any exercise? How they can be so gross when even a 6 year old can run a race after having surgery?
Sunday, 19 August 2012
Snakes Alive
My name is tony and I am a snakeaholic…(yes I know that’s not a real word but fuck you, this is my blog!)
A few weeks back I started with Grand Moff Tarkin, a Royal Python. Look a few posts back and you’ll see pics of him. Actually im assuming it’s a him but I don’t know where a snakes bits are! Anyhow, when he is full grown, in around 2 years or so. He’ll reach maybe 5 foot in length and be nice and chunky round the middle. He has a brilliant temperament and is very chilled and lazy. He’s eating well, wolfing down a small rat every week. Fairly soon I’ll move him up to a larger sized rat and then increase the interval between feeding.
I also got this lovely lady, Kira.
She’s a Corn Snake, a species native to the eastern half of America. She’s much slimmer in the body than Grand Moff Tarkin but will achieve more or less the same length. She’s also quite chilled but was a feisty little sod when I first got her home. Interestingly, with corns snakes and with royal pythons there are many different colour variations, and some of these go for astonishing amounts. My 2 are examples of the ‘normal’ colouration.
Then there’s my new snake.
That’s Nagini, a Boa Constrictor. If you want to be poncey and get her latin name for her species, she’s a boa constrictor imperator. If Nagini IS female then she’ll reach around 12ft in length and will be very chunky and strong. If male then slightly smaller at around 9ft but again, very strong. She’s a baby now so is eating rat pups but as she gets bigger. So will her dinner and eventually she’ll eat large rats and medium rabbits.
I’m now thinking about getting a cobra….
My pets will fuck your pets up!
A few weeks back I started with Grand Moff Tarkin, a Royal Python. Look a few posts back and you’ll see pics of him. Actually im assuming it’s a him but I don’t know where a snakes bits are! Anyhow, when he is full grown, in around 2 years or so. He’ll reach maybe 5 foot in length and be nice and chunky round the middle. He has a brilliant temperament and is very chilled and lazy. He’s eating well, wolfing down a small rat every week. Fairly soon I’ll move him up to a larger sized rat and then increase the interval between feeding.
I also got this lovely lady, Kira.
She’s a Corn Snake, a species native to the eastern half of America. She’s much slimmer in the body than Grand Moff Tarkin but will achieve more or less the same length. She’s also quite chilled but was a feisty little sod when I first got her home. Interestingly, with corns snakes and with royal pythons there are many different colour variations, and some of these go for astonishing amounts. My 2 are examples of the ‘normal’ colouration.
Then there’s my new snake.
That’s Nagini, a Boa Constrictor. If you want to be poncey and get her latin name for her species, she’s a boa constrictor imperator. If Nagini IS female then she’ll reach around 12ft in length and will be very chunky and strong. If male then slightly smaller at around 9ft but again, very strong. She’s a baby now so is eating rat pups but as she gets bigger. So will her dinner and eventually she’ll eat large rats and medium rabbits.
I’m now thinking about getting a cobra….
My pets will fuck your pets up!
Friday, 10 August 2012
Evolving
Much like Charlie Darwin posited, things evolve this blog never really had a purpose or particular subject matter but inevitably it was most often about my boxing.
Since the recent and continuing health scare, I've had time to think and one of the things I've decided to do is to change this blog around a bit. As well as ranting on health and fitness issues, I'll do more general stuff as well as utilising my digital camera and using a few photos to brighten things up.
I've also decided, as of tomorrow at some point, to do a film blog.
Look forward to seeing you there.
Thursday, 26 July 2012
life is shit
So it’s been an utterly, utterly shithouse few days.
As has been mentioned before on here, I am a Jew. At work, that is a known fact, given that I take the Jewish festivals off from work. 4 weeks ago now, a co-worker made a comment to me about Hitler and gas chambers. Instead of chinning him I did what I thought was the right thing. I went to my line manager and made a complaint. I should have had an inkling of how things were going to go when she told me to laugh it off as a joke. Since then there have been meetings after meetings where I felt under attack.
Also I have been going through some medical problems.
I am intelligent, I am loquacious and have no problem talking. However for the last few months, say around 4 or 5 months, I’ll know the word I want to use, I know the correct context and all that but between my brain and my mouth, it’ll get screwed up. Syllables get jumbled, and I cannot force the damned word out, no matter how hard I try. It’s doesn’t happen all the time but it is happening more often.
So in addition to that being massively frustrating there’s something else. When holding or using something with my hands, I will have to concentrate really damned hard to make my hands do what I want them to do. Its almost like I have to force them to work. I’ve also been dropping things I really shouldn’t be. As above with the speech it’s not a constant problem but it is happening more often.
So at the same time as I made the complaint about the racist jerk at work I also made an appointment with my G.P, after all, better safe than sorry eh?
The appointment was Tuesday evening just gone. Doctor tells me that she is pretty sure it is stress that causing it. She’s given me a course of beta-blockers to deal with it. If they work then great, we know its stress. To that end I have been signed off work for a few days to chill out.
However if it is not stress then it is something more serious. That serious thing? Multiple sclerosis.
Life is shit.
Update.....
Have the big meeting at work tomorrow. Thankfully I have got someone coming with me, a brief sent by a Jewish group. Will update you when i know more about what's going on. Normal blogging service will resume at some point.
As far as medical issues go, I am on a stronger dose of medication now so will see how i go on that. I'm waiting on a letter from the hospital regarding an appointment with a neurologist so it's just a case of waitin and seeing.
As has been mentioned before on here, I am a Jew. At work, that is a known fact, given that I take the Jewish festivals off from work. 4 weeks ago now, a co-worker made a comment to me about Hitler and gas chambers. Instead of chinning him I did what I thought was the right thing. I went to my line manager and made a complaint. I should have had an inkling of how things were going to go when she told me to laugh it off as a joke. Since then there have been meetings after meetings where I felt under attack.
Also I have been going through some medical problems.
I am intelligent, I am loquacious and have no problem talking. However for the last few months, say around 4 or 5 months, I’ll know the word I want to use, I know the correct context and all that but between my brain and my mouth, it’ll get screwed up. Syllables get jumbled, and I cannot force the damned word out, no matter how hard I try. It’s doesn’t happen all the time but it is happening more often.
So in addition to that being massively frustrating there’s something else. When holding or using something with my hands, I will have to concentrate really damned hard to make my hands do what I want them to do. Its almost like I have to force them to work. I’ve also been dropping things I really shouldn’t be. As above with the speech it’s not a constant problem but it is happening more often.
So at the same time as I made the complaint about the racist jerk at work I also made an appointment with my G.P, after all, better safe than sorry eh?
The appointment was Tuesday evening just gone. Doctor tells me that she is pretty sure it is stress that causing it. She’s given me a course of beta-blockers to deal with it. If they work then great, we know its stress. To that end I have been signed off work for a few days to chill out.
However if it is not stress then it is something more serious. That serious thing? Multiple sclerosis.
Life is shit.
Update.....
Have the big meeting at work tomorrow. Thankfully I have got someone coming with me, a brief sent by a Jewish group. Will update you when i know more about what's going on. Normal blogging service will resume at some point.
As far as medical issues go, I am on a stronger dose of medication now so will see how i go on that. I'm waiting on a letter from the hospital regarding an appointment with a neurologist so it's just a case of waitin and seeing.
Sunday, 22 July 2012
Working Hard
So I’ve taken to dong something a little different when I go running. As well as doing my interval sprints, I’ve added a little extra into the mix. I’ll sprint between two set points, say two lampposts and then I’ll bang out 10 pressups, then continue sprintg to another set point, do 10 more press ups until I’ve managed 5 sets.
I’ve jumped several more rungs with boxing and im more or less there with terms of being ready for the medical. My sparring has greatly improved and I’ve been having some real hard battles. However that is only a good thing I reckon. After all if I do not push myself past my comfort zone then how will I learn? That’s not to say that immediately after a hard sparring session I am itching for another, coz I’m usually exhausted! I bring a fresh t shirt to wear home after a work out and its been a case of me having to peel the old one off after I finish. Still, for all the pain, for all the aches and bumps and bruises, I’d much rather feel like that then be one of the blubber monsters I see around town.
There’ll be more soon, and I’ll keep that promise this time folks!
I’ve jumped several more rungs with boxing and im more or less there with terms of being ready for the medical. My sparring has greatly improved and I’ve been having some real hard battles. However that is only a good thing I reckon. After all if I do not push myself past my comfort zone then how will I learn? That’s not to say that immediately after a hard sparring session I am itching for another, coz I’m usually exhausted! I bring a fresh t shirt to wear home after a work out and its been a case of me having to peel the old one off after I finish. Still, for all the pain, for all the aches and bumps and bruises, I’d much rather feel like that then be one of the blubber monsters I see around town.
There’ll be more soon, and I’ll keep that promise this time folks!
Saturday, 23 June 2012
Thumbs Up
I started my journey to a better life over 2 years ago now. There have been bumps along the way but I’m getting there and my dream of a bout gets ever closer. I am sparring most nights now and it’s be silly to expect everything to go my way all the time but I am taking less pastings now and am dishing a fair few out. I did refuse to spar with a woman the other week though. I have had light spars with females before but theirs is something really hard to stomach about full sparring with someone of the opposite gender.
Also, I try to apply self to the full extent when training. I look it at it like this. If you’re not going to give it all you have, then what’s the point? Most of us feel the same way and I like how e help ach other. At the moment I am in aw of two people that train with us. These 2 are not going to box, rather they are there to work out. The first person, Jane, is a single mother of two, is heavy and has had some recent health problems, necessitating hospital treatment and physiotherapy. She still comes in and gets on with the work and wants to do most of the stuff we do. I cannot fault her at all and I see parallels to myself when I first started, both in size and application of effort. She is not shy about getting sweaty and whilst she is a big lass, that wont last and no one has judged her for that. In fact, I would go so far to say that we admire her for coming in.
The other person isn’t there every week, but is there more often than not. Alan was a soldier, and left the Army after…..having a leg blown off by a bomb in Afghanistan! Think about that for a sec. He is an amputee, has a false leg and STILL comes in and puts a fair few of us to shame. I really do admire him.
If they can get in the gym and do it, why the fuck can’t the blubber monsters I see waddling around town
Eagerly displaying their rolls of flab? There are very few people that genuinely cannot do at least some form of exercise or work out.
Also, I try to apply self to the full extent when training. I look it at it like this. If you’re not going to give it all you have, then what’s the point? Most of us feel the same way and I like how e help ach other. At the moment I am in aw of two people that train with us. These 2 are not going to box, rather they are there to work out. The first person, Jane, is a single mother of two, is heavy and has had some recent health problems, necessitating hospital treatment and physiotherapy. She still comes in and gets on with the work and wants to do most of the stuff we do. I cannot fault her at all and I see parallels to myself when I first started, both in size and application of effort. She is not shy about getting sweaty and whilst she is a big lass, that wont last and no one has judged her for that. In fact, I would go so far to say that we admire her for coming in.
The other person isn’t there every week, but is there more often than not. Alan was a soldier, and left the Army after…..having a leg blown off by a bomb in Afghanistan! Think about that for a sec. He is an amputee, has a false leg and STILL comes in and puts a fair few of us to shame. I really do admire him.
If they can get in the gym and do it, why the fuck can’t the blubber monsters I see waddling around town
Eagerly displaying their rolls of flab? There are very few people that genuinely cannot do at least some form of exercise or work out.
Thursday, 7 June 2012
Dog Tired
I‘ve seen and read some horrid stories in the news recently but tonight, this one takes the biscuit. I sincerely hope that whoever did that to the poor dog gets the same treatment back.
This has set me off on a tangent with regard to dogs. I love Milly, and as I write this she is sat right next to me and in a manner of speaking, she, along with my cats is an extension of me. I care for Milly by providing her with good food, water, exercise and plenty of fuss. When I walk her, I always, ALWAYS carry poop bags to clean up her ‘mess’. I have control of her, she is never off-leash, given that I live in an urban environment. If she sees another dog and seems like she’ll get aggressive then I calm her and the situation down and walk away. I do not allow strangers to come up to her to pet her, regardless of whether they’re children or not (and just because she’s small doesn’t mean she wont bite!)
So if I can do that, why cant the other dog owners around?
Why do I see dogs, usually Staffies, running around without leads? It matters not that they may have good recall, because as Norma quite rightly states, all dogs have instincts and what happens when it sees another dog and bolts over?
Also, why the fucking fuckity fuck can’t people pick up after their dogs? I mean technically it’s an offence to leave dog turds laying around but judging by the amount of crap I have to dodge round here it’s not a law that’s enforced. At least I hope it’s dog poo, because if not then the alternative is a bit grim!
I honestly despair at some people.
This has set me off on a tangent with regard to dogs. I love Milly, and as I write this she is sat right next to me and in a manner of speaking, she, along with my cats is an extension of me. I care for Milly by providing her with good food, water, exercise and plenty of fuss. When I walk her, I always, ALWAYS carry poop bags to clean up her ‘mess’. I have control of her, she is never off-leash, given that I live in an urban environment. If she sees another dog and seems like she’ll get aggressive then I calm her and the situation down and walk away. I do not allow strangers to come up to her to pet her, regardless of whether they’re children or not (and just because she’s small doesn’t mean she wont bite!)
So if I can do that, why cant the other dog owners around?
Why do I see dogs, usually Staffies, running around without leads? It matters not that they may have good recall, because as Norma quite rightly states, all dogs have instincts and what happens when it sees another dog and bolts over?
Also, why the fucking fuckity fuck can’t people pick up after their dogs? I mean technically it’s an offence to leave dog turds laying around but judging by the amount of crap I have to dodge round here it’s not a law that’s enforced. At least I hope it’s dog poo, because if not then the alternative is a bit grim!
I honestly despair at some people.
Tuesday, 29 May 2012
Grand Moff Tarkin
This is Grand Moff Tarkin, my Royal Python. At the moment he is just under a foot long but when full grown he'll reach maybe 6ft. In keeping with all Royals/Ball pythons, he curls up into a ball at first but when he relaxes and is comfortable with you, he explores and slithers around.
I think he is chuffing lovely.
Sunday, 27 May 2012
Hey Hey
My god damned laptop is acting the god damned twat.
I’ve not been ignoring you, honest.
I was seeing a young lady but had to dump her for being utterly insane. Had been seeng her for 3 weeks when she brought up the subject of getting married and having kids. That was when I took my cue to run for the hills!
I’ve gotten myself a new pet, a Royal Python, a normal. He’s still a baby so less than a foot long but when fully grown he’ll be between 5-6 feet. I’ve also got myself a corn snake coming as well. That’s an interesting tale there. I was in a reptile shop in Maidstone yesterday. They’re pretty good in there, they have a good choice of animals and are very knowledgeable about their trade. I was allowed to handle all sorts of snakes and there was a baby Corn Snake behind the desk. I asked about it and was told that it had been found in a basement, abandoned and had been close to death. It apparently has a screw loose and is being nursed back to heath. When it is fit and ready to go, that’s coming home with me. Whilst in there I enquired as to a snake I saw that was utterly beautiful. I asked how much I was looking at for the set up and the snake. I asked what the temperament was like. They answered all my questions and allowed me to hold the baby one, though the older one in a neighbouring tank had not long been fed and as such was not available to be handled. I fell utterly in love and once I’ve seen how I get on with the python and corn snake, then I’ll get me one of those. One of what you may ask? Only a Boa Constrictor!
Lizards are also an option and I’ve been offered a Bearded Dragon I’m much more of a snake person then a lizard. My only issue with the larger snakes, such as the Boa will be their food. I’m fine with obtaining and feeding the corn and the python their mice and when the python is larger, it’s rats but the Boa eats rabbits and chickens! And if I’m not careful, me as well!
Interestingly, I have seen this shop refuse to sell to people they think want their animals for status or people that they think wont take care of them properly. I like that, the sense of honour there. I’m also fond of the fantastic rack on the girl working there!
I’ve not been ignoring you, honest.
I was seeing a young lady but had to dump her for being utterly insane. Had been seeng her for 3 weeks when she brought up the subject of getting married and having kids. That was when I took my cue to run for the hills!
I’ve gotten myself a new pet, a Royal Python, a normal. He’s still a baby so less than a foot long but when fully grown he’ll be between 5-6 feet. I’ve also got myself a corn snake coming as well. That’s an interesting tale there. I was in a reptile shop in Maidstone yesterday. They’re pretty good in there, they have a good choice of animals and are very knowledgeable about their trade. I was allowed to handle all sorts of snakes and there was a baby Corn Snake behind the desk. I asked about it and was told that it had been found in a basement, abandoned and had been close to death. It apparently has a screw loose and is being nursed back to heath. When it is fit and ready to go, that’s coming home with me. Whilst in there I enquired as to a snake I saw that was utterly beautiful. I asked how much I was looking at for the set up and the snake. I asked what the temperament was like. They answered all my questions and allowed me to hold the baby one, though the older one in a neighbouring tank had not long been fed and as such was not available to be handled. I fell utterly in love and once I’ve seen how I get on with the python and corn snake, then I’ll get me one of those. One of what you may ask? Only a Boa Constrictor!
Lizards are also an option and I’ve been offered a Bearded Dragon I’m much more of a snake person then a lizard. My only issue with the larger snakes, such as the Boa will be their food. I’m fine with obtaining and feeding the corn and the python their mice and when the python is larger, it’s rats but the Boa eats rabbits and chickens! And if I’m not careful, me as well!
Interestingly, I have seen this shop refuse to sell to people they think want their animals for status or people that they think wont take care of them properly. I like that, the sense of honour there. I’m also fond of the fantastic rack on the girl working there!
Monday, 14 May 2012
Working it Out
Had an excellent workout tonight, did several hard rounds of sparring with Raj, another cruiser/heavyweight so the more I go around with the bigger guys, the better it is for me. After that I did my usual weights, bag work and skipping and one of the other boxers showed me anew exercise to do involving the medicine ball. All good fun but something occurred to me on the walk home
I’ve been at that club for over 2 years now. I have built up friendships that without resorting to too much hyperbole, have been forged in blood and sweat with me supplying most of the blood ! The support we give each other, the help and the good will for each to do well, despite the fact that we regularly spar each other has convinced me that in a way, we have become brothers and have formed a bond similar to that of those serving in the armed forces or the friendships that I formed and that have endured since my prison days. I don’t know if that sounds like I am talking bollocks but that’s how I see it. I have cornered for a couple of them, and travelled to see them fight more I know that I can absolutely count upon them to be right behind me.
I enjoyed my journey home though I was too tired to jog or run it.
I am just now about to tuck into my post work out chow of a grilled chicken breast, dahl and chickpeas.
Toodle pip folks.
I’ve been at that club for over 2 years now. I have built up friendships that without resorting to too much hyperbole, have been forged in blood and sweat with me supplying most of the blood ! The support we give each other, the help and the good will for each to do well, despite the fact that we regularly spar each other has convinced me that in a way, we have become brothers and have formed a bond similar to that of those serving in the armed forces or the friendships that I formed and that have endured since my prison days. I don’t know if that sounds like I am talking bollocks but that’s how I see it. I have cornered for a couple of them, and travelled to see them fight more I know that I can absolutely count upon them to be right behind me.
I enjoyed my journey home though I was too tired to jog or run it.
I am just now about to tuck into my post work out chow of a grilled chicken breast, dahl and chickpeas.
Toodle pip folks.
Sunday, 6 May 2012
Woof Woof
Yesterday I went to the Sweeps Festival, an annual thing held in Rochester . It’s an annual thing and it’s all so very British, with May Day celebrations, craft stalls etc. It’s not as big as the Dickens Festival but it’s fun nonetheless. This years one was sadly disappointing though, and I suspect the local council have focused upon Dickens.
So with that in mind I was a bit cheesed off with things there. I was on my way home when I met two dogs that absolutely made my day.
First up was a big, beefy looking geezer of a dog. It kinda resembled a bulldog but was much bigger, easily three times the size. I asked if it was ok to stroke him (the dog, not the owner) and I enquired as to the breed. Turns out it was an American Bulldog. A more gregarious doggie you wont find. He sniffed at my hand, then stood up on his legs to slobber over my face.
Then, as I neared the end of Rochester High St, I saw something up ahead of me. I couldn’t quite believe my eyes. Was it, could it be my favourite breed of all time? It bloody well was. It was only a Doberman! Iw as made up and fussed over him. A more magnificent pooch you wont ever find. You could feel the sheer power beneath the sleek exterior and whilst he was calm, you could just tell that if I had meant his owner any harm, that dog would have fucked me up.
I am so bowled over by dogs.
So with that in mind I was a bit cheesed off with things there. I was on my way home when I met two dogs that absolutely made my day.
First up was a big, beefy looking geezer of a dog. It kinda resembled a bulldog but was much bigger, easily three times the size. I asked if it was ok to stroke him (the dog, not the owner) and I enquired as to the breed. Turns out it was an American Bulldog. A more gregarious doggie you wont find. He sniffed at my hand, then stood up on his legs to slobber over my face.
Then, as I neared the end of Rochester High St, I saw something up ahead of me. I couldn’t quite believe my eyes. Was it, could it be my favourite breed of all time? It bloody well was. It was only a Doberman! Iw as made up and fussed over him. A more magnificent pooch you wont ever find. You could feel the sheer power beneath the sleek exterior and whilst he was calm, you could just tell that if I had meant his owner any harm, that dog would have fucked me up.
I am so bowled over by dogs.
Abscence Slip
Sorry for the absence, did you miss me? I’ve been sorting a few things out here at home hence the lack of blogging really.
You’ll recall from the last post that I down in the dumps somewhat. That’s been rectified now, thanks in part to Alana. Who’s she? She’s in her early 20’s, works part time in a shop and gave me her number. Think about that, she’s interested in me!
She also studies part time at Uni, doing something I have no understanding of, namely Political Science and Economics. So not only is she funny, smart, young but she is smoking hot!
You’ll recall from the last post that I down in the dumps somewhat. That’s been rectified now, thanks in part to Alana. Who’s she? She’s in her early 20’s, works part time in a shop and gave me her number. Think about that, she’s interested in me!
She also studies part time at Uni, doing something I have no understanding of, namely Political Science and Economics. So not only is she funny, smart, young but she is smoking hot!
Thursday, 19 April 2012
Tonys Burning
I have been in really low place these last few days.
I work in a place that prepares ready meals and suchlike, as I posted about the other week. The other day I was in the canteen at the same time as one of the porters who was deep cleaning the walls. He was using a cleaning chemical, one of several that are used in the place, all for various reasons and of various strengths. Said porter splashed the chemical rather too liberally and soaked my arm in it. I immediately washed it off and whilst my arm was bright red and itching afterwards I thought it was more or less ok.
I was wrong.
Maybe 2 hours or so later I was in agony. My skin had bubbled up and gone a shocking red. The area affected is around my left elbow and part of the forearm. I slathered on the cream I have for my allergy but then didn’t help. I decided to take myself up to the hospital and after a 15 minute hike up the hill opposite me I was in A&E waiting to see a nurse.
In essence, I have, or had, a first degree chemical burn to the arm. That’s at the least serious end of the scale but the news for me that is worrying me, the stuff that’s got me down is that once the redness and all that fades, I am almost certainly going to be left with scarring over the affected area. I am not a shallow person and its not like the scars will be on my boat race but it does bother me somewhat.
I work in a place that prepares ready meals and suchlike, as I posted about the other week. The other day I was in the canteen at the same time as one of the porters who was deep cleaning the walls. He was using a cleaning chemical, one of several that are used in the place, all for various reasons and of various strengths. Said porter splashed the chemical rather too liberally and soaked my arm in it. I immediately washed it off and whilst my arm was bright red and itching afterwards I thought it was more or less ok.
I was wrong.
Maybe 2 hours or so later I was in agony. My skin had bubbled up and gone a shocking red. The area affected is around my left elbow and part of the forearm. I slathered on the cream I have for my allergy but then didn’t help. I decided to take myself up to the hospital and after a 15 minute hike up the hill opposite me I was in A&E waiting to see a nurse.
In essence, I have, or had, a first degree chemical burn to the arm. That’s at the least serious end of the scale but the news for me that is worrying me, the stuff that’s got me down is that once the redness and all that fades, I am almost certainly going to be left with scarring over the affected area. I am not a shallow person and its not like the scars will be on my boat race but it does bother me somewhat.
Sunday, 15 April 2012
Heavy Petting
Well how the devil are you?
Yesterday I was walking through the local shopping mall when I saw a sight that intrigued me. No, it was not a fight, nor was it a naked wench but it was an animal charity with all sorts of pets. They were simultaneously raising money and education people about the needs of various pets as well promoting rehoming pets rather than buying them from shops etc.
I gladly stuck some money in their collection and took home some leaflets to read about rehoming pets. They also had a big push on these dogs as ideal family pooches, seeing as they are a breed that are sadly overlooked here. More importantly for me though, there was a big old display of exotic pets. This dovetails nicely with my post from the other day.
I got to hold a HUGE Reticulated Python but there’s no way I would have one of those, their normal tank would be way too big for my place. I got to hold a tarantula but again, I cant see me having one of those. Not because they scare me though, no siree bob! The Nile Monitor Lizard was not available for handling, as they are remarkably dangerous. However I did see something that did catch my eye. Madagascan Hissing Cockroaches! They are remarkably easy to care for and gorgeous to look at. I was chatting to one of the charity workers there and he asked me if I felt brave. I told him I had just had the python across me, so I was game. This was when he started getting the cockroaches out and placing them over my face. They sat more or less still and you know what? I sodding loved them! There were some people there, other shoppers, who were not so enamoured, judging by the noises of horror but I was all aquiver. The tank required is not all that big and all I need to do now is find a place to buy them.
They had several dogs there, one of which was a Staffie which promptly slobbered over me and that’s always good. Interestingly the animals there, ranging from the rats to the exotics to the dogs were rescued and so my next exotic will also be a rescue effort. Having said that I really do want the ‘Roaches!
Yesterday I was walking through the local shopping mall when I saw a sight that intrigued me. No, it was not a fight, nor was it a naked wench but it was an animal charity with all sorts of pets. They were simultaneously raising money and education people about the needs of various pets as well promoting rehoming pets rather than buying them from shops etc.
I gladly stuck some money in their collection and took home some leaflets to read about rehoming pets. They also had a big push on these dogs as ideal family pooches, seeing as they are a breed that are sadly overlooked here. More importantly for me though, there was a big old display of exotic pets. This dovetails nicely with my post from the other day.
I got to hold a HUGE Reticulated Python but there’s no way I would have one of those, their normal tank would be way too big for my place. I got to hold a tarantula but again, I cant see me having one of those. Not because they scare me though, no siree bob! The Nile Monitor Lizard was not available for handling, as they are remarkably dangerous. However I did see something that did catch my eye. Madagascan Hissing Cockroaches! They are remarkably easy to care for and gorgeous to look at. I was chatting to one of the charity workers there and he asked me if I felt brave. I told him I had just had the python across me, so I was game. This was when he started getting the cockroaches out and placing them over my face. They sat more or less still and you know what? I sodding loved them! There were some people there, other shoppers, who were not so enamoured, judging by the noises of horror but I was all aquiver. The tank required is not all that big and all I need to do now is find a place to buy them.
They had several dogs there, one of which was a Staffie which promptly slobbered over me and that’s always good. Interestingly the animals there, ranging from the rats to the exotics to the dogs were rescued and so my next exotic will also be a rescue effort. Having said that I really do want the ‘Roaches!
Saturday, 14 April 2012
Ring Of Fire
As I have probably made clear through this organ (ohh err missus!) I love boxing, it’s changed my life and it’s in my blood now. However there is something that’s given me pause for thought just recently. Right now though it is time for me to go off on a tangent.
All my life I have had an evil temper. As a child I tried stabbing a teacher with a pair of scissors when I was told off (I think I was about 6) and when I was 9 I stabbed my stepbrother in the eye with a compass. During my first prison term I head butted a screw for shouting at me. I’ve since calmed down but occasionally, very occasionally the dark side bubbles up.
This past Monday I was sparring with Alfie, a young lad and a southpaw. The first round was crap from me, I kept getting caught. I upped my game in the second and third round and held the centre of the ring well and kept pressure on Alfie. However in the fourth round I came in low with a body shot and somehow Alfie ended up holding me in a sort of headlock! He then proceeded to throw uppercuts into my face whilst holding me down. I heard John, our coach, shout break but Alfie didn’t let me up. When we broke, instead of gathering ourselves and then going back, I steamed right into him. For a few seconds I wanted to kill him. I unloaded with everything I had and the darkness was behind my eyes.
John was hollering break at us, and whilst I heard him, I didn’t pay attention, I was that much into wanting vengeance on Alfie, who was himself cowering behind his arms. When I eventually stopped, John hoiked me out and handed out the mother of all bollockings. I have since been allowed to spar again but I am under orders to dial down the power and to never do that in sparring again. According to John I was an animal in the ring and that needs to be kept for when I fight. I walked home in a huff but I have since realised that John was right but it doesn’t help the fact that for those few seconds I was out of control.
Norma, I don’t know how often you do the MMA stuff now and if you spar but I am pretty sure that Josh must do so regular? Would my actions in the boxing ring seem like an isolated incident? I’ve put the incident behind me I think and have since sparred again with yet another southpaw and yet again I came off worse but there was no evilness this time, just blood! I have a distinct hatred for southpaws.
All my life I have had an evil temper. As a child I tried stabbing a teacher with a pair of scissors when I was told off (I think I was about 6) and when I was 9 I stabbed my stepbrother in the eye with a compass. During my first prison term I head butted a screw for shouting at me. I’ve since calmed down but occasionally, very occasionally the dark side bubbles up.
This past Monday I was sparring with Alfie, a young lad and a southpaw. The first round was crap from me, I kept getting caught. I upped my game in the second and third round and held the centre of the ring well and kept pressure on Alfie. However in the fourth round I came in low with a body shot and somehow Alfie ended up holding me in a sort of headlock! He then proceeded to throw uppercuts into my face whilst holding me down. I heard John, our coach, shout break but Alfie didn’t let me up. When we broke, instead of gathering ourselves and then going back, I steamed right into him. For a few seconds I wanted to kill him. I unloaded with everything I had and the darkness was behind my eyes.
John was hollering break at us, and whilst I heard him, I didn’t pay attention, I was that much into wanting vengeance on Alfie, who was himself cowering behind his arms. When I eventually stopped, John hoiked me out and handed out the mother of all bollockings. I have since been allowed to spar again but I am under orders to dial down the power and to never do that in sparring again. According to John I was an animal in the ring and that needs to be kept for when I fight. I walked home in a huff but I have since realised that John was right but it doesn’t help the fact that for those few seconds I was out of control.
Norma, I don’t know how often you do the MMA stuff now and if you spar but I am pretty sure that Josh must do so regular? Would my actions in the boxing ring seem like an isolated incident? I’ve put the incident behind me I think and have since sparred again with yet another southpaw and yet again I came off worse but there was no evilness this time, just blood! I have a distinct hatred for southpaws.
Tuesday, 10 April 2012
Snakes Alive!
I think I really should ban myself from the pet shop in town. I not long got back from there having bought some more crickets for Palpatine. I got talking to one of the staff members and she showed me their snake collection. I more or less fell in love, but not with the woman, though she has a nice rack.
No, I am enamoured of the snakes. I really do think I have been bitten by the exotic pet bug. Palpatine is doing alright, though he does get very active at night! From what I’ve spoken of with the woman at the shop, I’ll kick off with a Corn Snake and see how I get on. If things go alright with that, then my next project will be a Royal Python. I’ve kept rodents and to be brutally honest, I’ve that many nasty bites off a hamster that it has pout me off them, no matter how fluffy and cute they may seem.
I’m going to do some more reading up on snake care before I dive in but I really do think I lost my heart to a Corn Snake today.
No, I am enamoured of the snakes. I really do think I have been bitten by the exotic pet bug. Palpatine is doing alright, though he does get very active at night! From what I’ve spoken of with the woman at the shop, I’ll kick off with a Corn Snake and see how I get on. If things go alright with that, then my next project will be a Royal Python. I’ve kept rodents and to be brutally honest, I’ve that many nasty bites off a hamster that it has pout me off them, no matter how fluffy and cute they may seem.
I’m going to do some more reading up on snake care before I dive in but I really do think I lost my heart to a Corn Snake today.
Sunday, 1 April 2012
Work
Well I promised you a long and complicated post with regard to work didn’t I?
I work at a place that manufactures high end ready meals. This is the sort anyplace that sells it ready meals for £7 as opposed to £1 in the supermarket. The likes of me would never buy their food!
I work up in the office and I’m essentially the oldest office junior in the world. Sometimes though, in order to retrieve certain paperwork etc, I have to pass through the manufacturing floor area so this necessitates getting changed so as you would expect, locker room banter can and does ensue. As long as it doesn’t veer into nastiness then there’s no problem with that.
Bear that bit in mind yeah?
There’s quite a few people that work there, with a workforce of just about 130 or so across all shifts. When in either the changing room or in the canteen, I like to have a chat with people. There’s one guy in particular who is a bit slow on the uptake, a bit dim. That said he is essentially a nice guy but he does come in for some fearsome stick. I have encouraged him to stand up for himself but he never did. However, the other week he was caught eating some of the food in the kitchen and that’s absolutely forbidden. He was suspended and late last week he was sacked. However in the period between his suspension and his sacking more than one person stitched him up with tales of how he was lazy or how he was thick. The accumulation of these things ended up with him getting his p45.
So I made a point of going on record at work saying he was stitched up. I also went on record saying that whilst passing through the changing room I overheard several workers laughing at how they had finally gotten him the sack. I was and still am, angry at what I perceive as the lowest form of bullying. It reminds me of kicking someone when they are down. I acknowledge that he brought most of this on himself by eating the food but the person that grassed him up could have a word with him in private, rather than immediately going upstairs with it. The people mocking him for his sacking and also mocking him for his dumbness are wankers. On Friday lunchtime I quite loudly and forcibly made that point to several of them.
On doing that though I may have painted big old metaphorical target on my back. I dislike my job anyway for more than one reason but I cannot afford to resign nor can I afford to get sacked. I am dreading going into work Monday.
I work at a place that manufactures high end ready meals. This is the sort anyplace that sells it ready meals for £7 as opposed to £1 in the supermarket. The likes of me would never buy their food!
I work up in the office and I’m essentially the oldest office junior in the world. Sometimes though, in order to retrieve certain paperwork etc, I have to pass through the manufacturing floor area so this necessitates getting changed so as you would expect, locker room banter can and does ensue. As long as it doesn’t veer into nastiness then there’s no problem with that.
Bear that bit in mind yeah?
There’s quite a few people that work there, with a workforce of just about 130 or so across all shifts. When in either the changing room or in the canteen, I like to have a chat with people. There’s one guy in particular who is a bit slow on the uptake, a bit dim. That said he is essentially a nice guy but he does come in for some fearsome stick. I have encouraged him to stand up for himself but he never did. However, the other week he was caught eating some of the food in the kitchen and that’s absolutely forbidden. He was suspended and late last week he was sacked. However in the period between his suspension and his sacking more than one person stitched him up with tales of how he was lazy or how he was thick. The accumulation of these things ended up with him getting his p45.
So I made a point of going on record at work saying he was stitched up. I also went on record saying that whilst passing through the changing room I overheard several workers laughing at how they had finally gotten him the sack. I was and still am, angry at what I perceive as the lowest form of bullying. It reminds me of kicking someone when they are down. I acknowledge that he brought most of this on himself by eating the food but the person that grassed him up could have a word with him in private, rather than immediately going upstairs with it. The people mocking him for his sacking and also mocking him for his dumbness are wankers. On Friday lunchtime I quite loudly and forcibly made that point to several of them.
On doing that though I may have painted big old metaphorical target on my back. I dislike my job anyway for more than one reason but I cannot afford to resign nor can I afford to get sacked. I am dreading going into work Monday.
Saturday, 31 March 2012
A Mish Mash Of Things
Well I think I may have found the most disgusting TV show of all time. Happened across it whilst channel surfing and am seriously lost for words. In a nation in the flabby grip of an obesity epidemic , the fact that a show that celebrates gluttony is not only commissioned but becomes popular says a lot about the moral fabric of that society. (no offence Norma)
I woke this morning at 0545 and yet again went for a nice run. I prefer running when there’s not many people out and clearly I am not the only to feel this way as I passed several others all doing the same. For home stretch, I did lampposts, alternating between jogging and flat out sprinting using lampposts as markers.
I went to the shul and on the way back went into Gillingham for some curried goat. I got a text from a woman I’ve chatting up inviting me for a date. Now I have to do some explaining. She lives down here but is originally from south east London so in that respect we are very similar. However she is of mixed ethnicity and she happened to tell me she was from an area of south London called Blackheath. Except when she wrote the text she spelled it Blackest. That’s very funny when you’re eating Jamaican food. Or perhaps you had to be there.
After that I wandered home but checked out the charity shops. Since I lost weight I have liked exercising greater choice in my clothes and I have a liking for skinhead style stuff. You can pick up some bargains in the charity shops but today I saw something that made my jaw drop. It was a shirt that XXXXXXXL! I did toy with the idea of buying it for the comedy value.
There’s a longer post bubbling under, to do with work but that’s one I need to think over. I’ll post it tomorrow.
I woke this morning at 0545 and yet again went for a nice run. I prefer running when there’s not many people out and clearly I am not the only to feel this way as I passed several others all doing the same. For home stretch, I did lampposts, alternating between jogging and flat out sprinting using lampposts as markers.
I went to the shul and on the way back went into Gillingham for some curried goat. I got a text from a woman I’ve chatting up inviting me for a date. Now I have to do some explaining. She lives down here but is originally from south east London so in that respect we are very similar. However she is of mixed ethnicity and she happened to tell me she was from an area of south London called Blackheath. Except when she wrote the text she spelled it Blackest. That’s very funny when you’re eating Jamaican food. Or perhaps you had to be there.
After that I wandered home but checked out the charity shops. Since I lost weight I have liked exercising greater choice in my clothes and I have a liking for skinhead style stuff. You can pick up some bargains in the charity shops but today I saw something that made my jaw drop. It was a shirt that XXXXXXXL! I did toy with the idea of buying it for the comedy value.
There’s a longer post bubbling under, to do with work but that’s one I need to think over. I’ll post it tomorrow.
Tuesday, 27 March 2012
Fat Chance
I’ve decided to take up a challenge from Norma.
Now, like me, this story probably makes ones jaw drop. For me though its part of larger issue for me as an Englishman. See, for too long the welfare state has allowed the feckless, the work-shy, the indigent to demand things to be given to them for nothing rather than earning them. This then means that those in actual need have to make do with less, seeing as those who want something for nothing are doing their best to empty the pot. I very much believe that the Welfare State, along with the NHS and the British Empire is of this countries greatest achievements.
So it makes my blood boil when I see stories like that. It’s not like her size has stopped her having 6 kids is it? She cant fit into an office chair? Cant stand up? But she can manage to get to the kitchen often enough! I would venture here that her husband has to be complicit in her getting to the size and self hating state that she is in. Why has he not maybe, just maybe, stopped her form stuffing her fat face? If you really do love someone then surely the onus is upon you to stop them harming themselves? I dread to think of what her children must be going through and dragging them through the media like that is horrid.
I have been coming round to the idea that people with self inflicted diseases or health conditions should absolutely come bottom of the list when it comes to NHS help. That goes for the obese as well as it does the alcoholic or the drug addict. My stepfather died from pancreatic cancer a few years ago, and he was a good and decent man who always worked hard his entire life. Instead of funds being poured into cancer research, we waste untold amounts on making addicts better just so they can right back out and do it all over again. I would give each addict, whether they be addicted to food heroin or booze, one single chance at treatment. If they fuck it up then sod them, I’d leave them to die. You should get fit and healthy because it’s the right thing to do, not because the state is paying for it. Perhaps, and a t a stretch, I would fund vouchers or something towards the cost of healthy food but then again why should she get that when I have to spend my hard earned on my own?
Now, like me, this story probably makes ones jaw drop. For me though its part of larger issue for me as an Englishman. See, for too long the welfare state has allowed the feckless, the work-shy, the indigent to demand things to be given to them for nothing rather than earning them. This then means that those in actual need have to make do with less, seeing as those who want something for nothing are doing their best to empty the pot. I very much believe that the Welfare State, along with the NHS and the British Empire is of this countries greatest achievements.
So it makes my blood boil when I see stories like that. It’s not like her size has stopped her having 6 kids is it? She cant fit into an office chair? Cant stand up? But she can manage to get to the kitchen often enough! I would venture here that her husband has to be complicit in her getting to the size and self hating state that she is in. Why has he not maybe, just maybe, stopped her form stuffing her fat face? If you really do love someone then surely the onus is upon you to stop them harming themselves? I dread to think of what her children must be going through and dragging them through the media like that is horrid.
I have been coming round to the idea that people with self inflicted diseases or health conditions should absolutely come bottom of the list when it comes to NHS help. That goes for the obese as well as it does the alcoholic or the drug addict. My stepfather died from pancreatic cancer a few years ago, and he was a good and decent man who always worked hard his entire life. Instead of funds being poured into cancer research, we waste untold amounts on making addicts better just so they can right back out and do it all over again. I would give each addict, whether they be addicted to food heroin or booze, one single chance at treatment. If they fuck it up then sod them, I’d leave them to die. You should get fit and healthy because it’s the right thing to do, not because the state is paying for it. Perhaps, and a t a stretch, I would fund vouchers or something towards the cost of healthy food but then again why should she get that when I have to spend my hard earned on my own?
Overheard In Chatham....
Chavette : But i love you.
Chav : You can't love me, you fucked 7 boys in 5 days.
Chavette : But none of them were Kosovans.
Chav : You can't love me, you fucked 7 boys in 5 days.
Chavette : But none of them were Kosovans.
Saturday, 24 March 2012
When...
When your arms so tired you can barely hold them up, when your nose is dripping blood and your body is pouring sweat and your legs feel like rubber, with your lungs burning, that’s when you reach inside yourself and fight on for one last round.
Palpatine
The above are 2 pics I snapped of Palpatine, my Emperor Scorpion. He lives right next to my bed. Have got my eye on a snake next.
Friday, 23 March 2012
Can't We All Just Get Along?
I don’t claim to be an angel, I’ve done some fairly shitty things in my life, stuff that I’m not proud of but I have noticed recently that there’s been real downshift in peoples attitudes to one another. There’s been a real downswing in the standards of peoples behaviour. It’s been playing on my mind because sometimes I think I’m a misanthrope and sometimes I believe in the general decentness of people.
I try to hold myself to high moral standard. that’s makes me sound bigheaded but the way I see it, if I try to behave well, then perhaps I can lead by example. However I get very upset and angry when others don’t follow that and it can really play on my mind.
I’ll give a couple of examples here.
In Chatham, my hometown, on a Saturday and Sunday we get a few buskers out on the high street. I can take or leave busking but we are lucky enough to have several really good ones and it’s a pleasure to listen to them and can make the day for me. However the flipside of that is that you can find some buskers that ear achingly bad! There is one guy though that stands out. He’s a chap of perhaps Asian or Slavic extraction and he whistles REALLY badly. The man is clearly two stops short of Dagenham (i.e. Barking) and he can come across as properly odd with muttering and gestures, added in to the piquant bouquet of b.o and stale urine. Today I was in town, enjoying a day off and the Whistling Busker was out. People would walk past and give him weird looks and some though would give him abuse and taunt him, bait him much like one would see bears prodded with a stick. The chap in question got really upset with this stormed off shouting gibberish and the maybe half dozen people that had been goading him laughed like this was a happy jape. Thankfully several of them went to walk past me and I got in a good old shoulder barge as they went by. This taps into a deeper affliction in society, one tat allows people to mock the afflicted. I don’t get how people can call themselves civilised and then mock the obviously mentally ill. Look at this video and then you’ll get an idea of what I mean with regard to the Whistling Busker and believe me, the wankers in this video are pretty mild.
Not even 15 minutes later something else happened that absolutely tore at my heart strings. I was outside a supermarket making a call on my phone when a well dressed family of a mum and 3 kids walked past a barber shop. One the small girls, aged around 5 I would guess walked into a street sign outside said haircutting establishment. A group of locals laughed loudly at this, all the while the girl was crying though she was thankfully not hurt. Her elder brother, aged maybe 9, asked his mum “why would they laugh, why don’t they like us?” I have to say, hearing that absolutely tore at me. The people laughing make me ashamed to come from here.
I know that I shouldn’t take it personally, that I shouldn’t allow myself to get upset or dwell on other people being scummy but its been really bugging me since then.
What the hell has society become when people can be so damned causally cruel? Why cant people just at least try to be decent to each other?
I try to hold myself to high moral standard. that’s makes me sound bigheaded but the way I see it, if I try to behave well, then perhaps I can lead by example. However I get very upset and angry when others don’t follow that and it can really play on my mind.
I’ll give a couple of examples here.
In Chatham, my hometown, on a Saturday and Sunday we get a few buskers out on the high street. I can take or leave busking but we are lucky enough to have several really good ones and it’s a pleasure to listen to them and can make the day for me. However the flipside of that is that you can find some buskers that ear achingly bad! There is one guy though that stands out. He’s a chap of perhaps Asian or Slavic extraction and he whistles REALLY badly. The man is clearly two stops short of Dagenham (i.e. Barking) and he can come across as properly odd with muttering and gestures, added in to the piquant bouquet of b.o and stale urine. Today I was in town, enjoying a day off and the Whistling Busker was out. People would walk past and give him weird looks and some though would give him abuse and taunt him, bait him much like one would see bears prodded with a stick. The chap in question got really upset with this stormed off shouting gibberish and the maybe half dozen people that had been goading him laughed like this was a happy jape. Thankfully several of them went to walk past me and I got in a good old shoulder barge as they went by. This taps into a deeper affliction in society, one tat allows people to mock the afflicted. I don’t get how people can call themselves civilised and then mock the obviously mentally ill. Look at this video and then you’ll get an idea of what I mean with regard to the Whistling Busker and believe me, the wankers in this video are pretty mild.
I know that I shouldn’t take it personally, that I shouldn’t allow myself to get upset or dwell on other people being scummy but its been really bugging me since then.
What the hell has society become when people can be so damned causally cruel? Why cant people just at least try to be decent to each other?
Sunday, 18 March 2012
Gene Genie.
So I’ve seen some amazing headlines recently but this one on the BBC News website has caught my eye.
Scientists say there’s a gene that causes obesity? Fuck off! Cake + pies + no exercise = obesity!
Scientists say there’s a gene that causes obesity? Fuck off! Cake + pies + no exercise = obesity!
Saturday, 17 March 2012
Oh Happy Day
I woke up this morning at 0430. I was unable to get back to sleep and therefore took the initiative to get out on the road and run. I went up Chatham and Rochester High Sts, then up Star Hill (I sprinted this part) then back along New Road to home. All in that’s a route of around 3 miles or so. I got back feeling very chilled and happy with myself. I showered then dozed off for a bit on the sofa with Milly snuggled in next to me.
I saw Lauren for a lunchtime date. She’s a nurse and lives in a town nearby. We went to a shopping mall and went window shopping and had some sushi for lunch. I managed not to spend too much of my money, but I did have a rather splendid date and Lauren has made quite the impression on me. I have been dating quite a but recently but Lauren has been the first young lady to make me feel like this. don’t know where this will lead but I will have a damn lot of fun finding out.
On the way back from seeing Lauren I stopped off at a supermarket to get some bits for the cupboard. On a whim I bought a scratch card on the way out. Guess what? I’m now £250 richer! Not exactly the biggest windfall but I have plans for this cash. It’s going to furnish my flat out.
I also saw on the news that this evil bastard has died. I sincerely hope he lived out his last days in agony and fear. The news of his death made today even better.
To top all that off, my team won 3-0 away from home today, so all in all it’s been a rather spiffing day.
I saw Lauren for a lunchtime date. She’s a nurse and lives in a town nearby. We went to a shopping mall and went window shopping and had some sushi for lunch. I managed not to spend too much of my money, but I did have a rather splendid date and Lauren has made quite the impression on me. I have been dating quite a but recently but Lauren has been the first young lady to make me feel like this. don’t know where this will lead but I will have a damn lot of fun finding out.
On the way back from seeing Lauren I stopped off at a supermarket to get some bits for the cupboard. On a whim I bought a scratch card on the way out. Guess what? I’m now £250 richer! Not exactly the biggest windfall but I have plans for this cash. It’s going to furnish my flat out.
I also saw on the news that this evil bastard has died. I sincerely hope he lived out his last days in agony and fear. The news of his death made today even better.
To top all that off, my team won 3-0 away from home today, so all in all it’s been a rather spiffing day.
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