How not to get promoted.

I had to work this Easter Sunday. We were not busy. Not being busy at work has produced many things. It has produced a sledge with old racing skis bolted to the bottom and a working brake. It has produced a mould so that I can make my own wax sticks. It has also been the birth child of indoor cricket.

Indoor cricket sounds harmless enough. This is true, it has been played in the store over most summers to while away the long and tedious days. They had never played it however, while I was there.

We made a ball, it had a sock core, wrapped in elastic bands and held together with tape. We already owned a bat made from an old ski, this was in the loft though and we couldn't be bothered to get it. Instead I grabbed the first thing to hand, an old junior ski about the same size as a bat. This I thought, would do fine.

I was up to bat first; the manger of my department was bowling. Only he wasn't bowling. He was pitching. Sure, he made all the motions of bowling, the arm travelling over the head, but the ball didn't bounce. It simply flew, at great speed, towards the wickets. Congratulations, you bowled me out. But that was a pitch, it doesn't count, bowl again.

This he did, and yet somehow he didn't. He pitched again. Once again I was out.

Now the challenge was on. I gave him the ball back, if he wasn't going to play properly then I was just going to have to change tactics. "Don't expect the bounce," I repeated to myself, "just hit the damn thing." This time when the ball came, I was ready. With ski in hand I gripped hard, and swung.

Immediately I realised this was a bad idea. I was gripping hard onto the metal edges of a ski. This hurt. I was committed now however and just tried to slow the ski down before I cut my fingers off. Well I didn't cut my fingers off, but I didn't manage to slow the ski down either. I simply let go.

I don't remember thinking to myself that I should let go. I think my brain did it for me to save my hands. Either way, this was not good.

The ski was now flying across the shop floor like a weapon from Val Helsing. Spinning as it went, aimed squarely for my manager. Contact was made. He fell to the floor holding his leg. I laughed my ass off.

I found him lying on the floor holding his shin. We were both in hysterics. Hardly able to say a word for laughing we simply tried to catch out breath, and then I saw the blood.

Suddenly this wasn't so funny anymore as the blood had made a substantial stain on his jeans. He pulled his trouser leg up to reveal a fairly nasty gouge in his shin. While this was still funny, it was now a more subdued "oh ha ha, please don't fire my ass, ha ha" kind of laugh.

Such was the damage he went to hospital and needed three stitches and a tetanus jab. When he told the nurses what had happened they didn't believe him. "My colleague threw a ski at me while playing cricket" isn't the most believable thing they have heard in Accident and Emergency.

Needless to say, I think I still have a job next year, but I cant imagine being invited to join the shop floor guys next time they are bored and need to while away the hours.

For me, for now, I'm banished back inside my workshop.

Me, my dreads and my tights.

I was stood looking at the Oakley cabinet at work a few days ago when I was struck with an idea. This was an idea so good that when I got in that night I e-mailed Oakley with it. Although I am waiting on a reply I still feel that it credits being shared with a larger audience. You are they.

I was looking at the names of all the glasses when suddenly I realised that Oakley could produce a pair of sunnies, the likes of which the world had never seen, and sell thousand upon thousand of pairs if only they had the right name. Like a flash of light through specially tinted and polarised lenses the idea came to me. They should name a pair of sunglasses. . . the Doakley!!!

Think about it.


Recently I also took the problematic hair that I own and once again tried to make a guy with long curly hair not look like a complete chump. I think I'm on the road to success with 'mah new dreads! Unfortunately it has only turned me into a chump in recluse. At the moment they are in that awful "bedding in" stage. This basically means that they look a bit kack, and will continue to do so until they turn into real dreads and not just bits of hair held together by beeswax. However, while in the vulnerable early stages it is recommended that you wear a pair of tights (well I say pair, I guess just one would do) over your head while you sleep to stop the little fellas from coming undone due to your relentless tossing and turning. I have dutifully followed these instructions and being wearing one on my head during slumber.

Now, and heres where the chump bit comes into it. Wearing one of these things on yer noggin is not one of the more comfortable things you can do. I mean, these things are tight! Maybe I'm just doing it wrong, I honestly don't know, I don't have a lot of experience with them. After a couple of nights I was thinking to myself, there has got to be an easier way.

And there is.

You see, your neck is considerable thinner than your head. Therefore, the seam which has been cutting into my head would not be so tight around it.

Stay with me here people.

There I was laying in bed, tights on head (stocking, tight, nylon, I'm not really sure what the proper name is for what I'm wearing). I'm laying there thinking, "This would be so much easier if I just pulled it completely over my head."
"No way" I think back to myself, "Can you imagine what a complete freaking loser you would look like". But then I figure, who would see?? It would just be me, my dreads and my tights. (for future reference, please shoot me if I ever come close to using a sentence like that again, there is only so much shame one man can handle) So with a little further ado, I pull the tights down over my head, Bank Robber style!

The pain - gone. The dreads - secure. The look - not good.

I have been sleeping like this for about a week now. Every time I do it I have to laugh to myself. Even if I end up not going with the dreads I will be glad I tried it solely for this endeavour.

Threre's a bank robber in my bedroom and he wants natty hair!

It is one month to the day.

One month. That?s all. Oh man, not long now.

I?m redesigning my website, I want it to be easier to post to and easier to use. I reckon I?m on the right track at the mo. The main graphics are coming together. Just need to make it all blend now.

Tonight my bro is out making the magic of television happen. Yes, it may all look glossy and beautiful behind the scenes but the people making that all work are normal hard working lads like my bro. Bless him, out till the early hours of the morning making sure that when you sit down with your tv dinner, you have something marginally enjoyable to watch. Ie, The Games, relax, partially enjoy and remember that it?s my family that make the magic happen!!

However, on a more personal note, tonight I am sat at home with a bottle of red wine, one glass, and no, read that none, friends.
The thing I loved about uni was that I could kick back with friends and enjoy a night in. Now, I love my family, but every now and again I miss with all that I am, just being able to kick it in an over crowded room, with too many people talking at once, with a relaxing drink and good company.

Call me old fashioned, but man alive, I can?t wait for my holiday.

Things that blow when planning a holiday.

Getting ill before you go.
Getting so ill that you have to have repeat trips to your doctors.
Getting so ill you are finally sent for a chest x-ray to try and work out why you are having trouble breathing.

Well, seeing as I'm going away for a nice relaxing holiday by the beach and not going to be engaging in strenuous martial arts training every day I suppose I should be ok. . . wait. . . hang on a mo. . . balls!

My work is coming to an end soon. A friendly sign that my holiday draws near.

One of the most troublesome things about my trip is that I will no longer be able to update my music collection. I could sit on the internet all day and browse around sampling new bands, seeing whats good and what isn't. It's a pleasant little pass time of mine. But once I'm gone, the only music I'll have is what I take with me. This gives me more than enough of an excuse to spend hours at home stocking up on material.
It was on one of these trips that I stumbled upon Wolfmother.

All I can say is Whoa-de-da-do-Ho. Rock isn't dead, it was just hiding out and slowly building a band with which to unleash itself upon the world. Wolfmother is that band.

Feel the finger burn!

I've spent the past two hours furiously tapping away at my keyboard. I have managed to get a couple of thousand words down and for once in far far too long I actually feel like I have accomplished something today other than another days work. My holiday is drawing temptingly closer. My bro's wedding plans are coming together nicely. I'm managing not to spend too much. My visa arrived safely.

Every day I dream about my holiday. Every day I worry that I've been dreaming about it for too long and it wont live up to expectations, but then every day I remind myself that seeing as I have little to no idea what I'm getting myself into I'll just have to wait and see what happens.

I think I'll make this website a bit more holiday friendly before I go too. Seeing as I'm going to be posting on a regular basis again, I think I should do myself the favour of making it as easy as I can.

Here's hoping there are plenty more productive nights before I go.

Hotmail blows.

So they have decided that for 'security' reasons I can no longer seamlessly integrate with Outlook. Last week they disabled my Outlook support and made me log in through a browser and do this little "type in the letters you see in the picture" test. This was a mere annoyance to me, I could have forgiven this and see how it may be necessary. However, once you have done this you have to download all your mail to outlook again. Which in my case puts in into the hundreds. How is this not the most stupid thing they could have thought of.

So while this really annoyed me. I thought I would let them off. After all I've been using hotmail for years now and although I never liked the online side, it has always been fine through Outlook. Then this week I get the same message from them telling me that I have to do the 'security check' again. Now it's starting to become an annoyance. Once I have completed this for the second time I then have to download all my mail. . AGAIN!!!

This is starting to border on the ridiculous for me now. The whole point of using Outlook is that I don't have to go through a brower and log in every time. So while this has got my back up I get an e-mail from Hotmail saying how they are no longer supporting Outlook for new accounts.

Well, if that isn't the sound of warning bells I don't know what it. So instead of putting up with their ridiculous security check every week, and instead of having to download my mail every week ( which Completely destroys the point of using Outlook in the first place ) I am simply ditching Hotmail.

Hotmail is dead, long live Gmail.

Make time go faster.

Plans are coming together nicely. I pick me tickets up this week and then all I have to do is buy any toys I want to take with me. My accommodation is all sorted, they are looking forward to meeting me at the camp. I have been told to take a protein shake with me and my favourite supplement so it looks like all that time trying to put weight on might finally come to some use.

I'm working a lot. This is why I'm not posting. You don't want to hear about my work everyday. Remember, I leave in April. I'm trying to work every day I can until then. I've managed to scam my way into working every day this week. I keep on working out how much I earn in a day in Thai Baht, it is little things like this, that keep my going!

I also discovered my new favourite music track today. It makes me want to jump around waving my arms in the air in the most stupid way I can think of. I'm going to play it sooo much at work to keep me in the holiday mood.

Single digit weeks left.

So. . . painfully . . . close.

I'm doin it.

Yup, that's right. I booked my tickets today. I finally have something to look forward to. My decision is made, the flights have my name on them. April is the month, the 20th is the date. Put it in your diaries.

For on that date, I will be taking my merry self over to Thailand. You heard me right people, I'm off to Thailand. How long for you ask, well about six months actually. Oh yeah, six glorious months of Thai sun, sea, shin splints and getting the shit kicked out of me.

Yup, you heard me right again. I'm going to spend the majority of the time getting the shit kicked out of me. No no, not because I'm planning on keeping the English tradition alive of sullying others cultures by getting drunk and insulting, but because I'm going to be spending my time living at a Thai Boxing camp.

Again, you were not misled. I'm going to Thailand for six months to train in Thai Boxing. I'm staying at a boxing camp and by the time I get back I should be in the shape of my life.

I am truly excited with equal portions of fear thrown in for good measure.

Keep on checking back. Wardys got something to write about again!

Sloppy writing killed the cat.

There is an advert on at the mo for a cat sanctuary that says ?remember, for every cat we take in, there are two others in need of help.?
By my logic this means that if I game them money I would be making the situation worse. So instead of that, I?m going to actively make two cats homeless, thus securing a place at the sanctuary for one lucky moggy.

Say goodbye to hair.

There is no reason, not to play this.

Gold from my bowels.

Well after three days of losing as much fluid as possible out of every orifice that leads to my stomach, I am finally on the up.

In these three days however, I have discovered something great. I have discovered Dream Evil. (disclaimer - this picture on this site is sooooo camp it completely ruins any respect you may have for them. I almost cried when I saw this picture, my heroes shot down in a hail of silver face paint and guys holding hands) However, any damage the picture may have caused is quickly erased when you hear the first track of their new album The Book Of Heavy Metal. You can download it from the site but I'm not sure of the legality so I didn't tell you to, ok. Anyways, should you download it, you are only in for disappointment. The best part of the track is missing. At the very beginning of the track on the album version, the singer lets rip with a high pitched and sustained voice tearing scream of "Meeettttaaaaaaaaaaaalll." Pure Genius. It sets the song up perfectly. This tracks has now knocked Metallicas The Call Of Ktulu off the top spot as my Clean The Workshop track.

This song rules, of this there is no doubt. But when someone from the store came in my workshop and went "the singer sounds like that guy from The Darkness" I nearly puked and crapped myself all over again.

. . . and relax.

Having spent the day carefully crafting a cd of immeasurable quality with which to astound a friend of mine, I sat back and did some good old fashioned day-off relaxing.

Firstly I started reading Down And Out In The Magic Kingdom, I got to chapter 4 and will finish it off after I've printed it so I can sit in a comfy chair to read. Then I played a bit of piano, then a bit of guitar (man, I wish I was good at either of these) after which I decided I would leave it up to the pros and retired to my favourite spot in front of my speakers.

However, I then spent the next hour-and-a-bit in random and impossible to resist bouts of inane grinning and spurts of laughter. Go and see for yourself.

Thanks to Grumps for supplying me with the link.

Proof positive, as if you needed it, that all the time I sunk into getting my contact page to work is starting to pay off.

Flame On!

About a week ago Chris thought he would kick the proverbial hornets nest around a bit and see if he could cause a fuss. Post Here. He did, and quite managed to upset Ann. I did my bit to calm the situation but ended up not helping at all. Mike then jumped in with one of the best units of measurement I have ever heard off and quite upset Sarah. Chris did some clever self-depreciating and Sarah calmed down with a little self-hate of her own and everything settled.

Chris then moved on and talked about oil prices. Post Here. ydelek and SoCalJ helped with providing real time statistics and Mike thought he would add a touch of British humour. SoCalJ completely missed the British art of sarcasm and got narked.

With all that going off I thought "It will never last. Sooner or later we are going to get a post that starts 'I don't know what to talk about today' and then go onto talk about nothing for three paragraphs." I was expecting this, it is the way of Chris.

But then what happened, something incredible. The flame wars truly came to life and some random lass came in, all guns blazing with insults and more. Boy is she pissed! This is what Chris has been trying to do for days now, really really get under someones skin, and finally, he cracked it. Sarah helped translate for those of us who could only read the short words and then ydelek comes in with the greatest closing sentence in history.

Keep up the good work people. You are brightening my days.

Fatties, Tramps and Jews.

No, not the clever title of a book, but the clientele of a petrol station we were at Saturday night, pre camping trip.

After filling the car up we took another twenty minutes to get to the car park in the Peaks that we were to depart from. A swift walk into the woods and were at our clearing. We collected wood, pitched our tents, lit the fire, then got down to some serious chinwagging and drinking.

It seemed like such a good idea in theory. We would work all Saturday, then go camping Saturday night, then get up and go to work on Sunday.
It seemed like such a good idea in theory.

Waking up on Sunday was horrible. I lay there, fully clothed in my sleeping bag, thinking ?I?m laying in the middle of a wood in the peak district, and I have to be at work in about an hour!?

We made it to the door with not a second to spare. We got changed on the shop floor and spent the day serving customers in our unwashed state, stinking of wood smoke.
It was ace.

My love of music is refreshed.

I have recently found some sites on the internet which have reaffirmed my faith in good music. Having been on a bit of a sabbatical from hunting around for tunes, I thought I would give it another go last week. Am I ever glad I did! Thanks to the wave of blogs out there that concentrate on music I have managed to find myself some of the most amazing music. Yeah, you still have to listen to the hours of crap and average stuff before you get your hands on the gold, but that?s half the fun. It makes finding those special tracks so much more satisfying. I spend my days listening to what I?ve scavenged and then when I get home I whittle it down to the select few.
The quality of what I have found even spurred me on to go and buy new cables for my stereo so I can use that istead of relying on headphones.

Which brings me to another point.

While listening through speakers is better during the day, when night closes in headphones rule. I have taken some of these tracks to bed with me (so to speak) and laying there in the dark, fully submerged in music. . . it just blows me away.
Some people get passionate about films, I rarely go to the cinema. Some get passionate about books, I?m a casual reader. For me, laying in the dark, eyes closed, submerging yourself in music. . . that is a passion that owns me.

The holidays are over.

My bedroom is a medlee of beer bottles, tea mugs and clothes. There is a quarter eaten Toblerone on the floor, assorted socks, travel insurance information, one glove and unplugged computer speakers in between my bed and the door. I avoid these things rather than move them, somehow moving them is too much effort and stepping over/around/on them each and every time I use my door is acceptable.

Next to my keyboard I have pennies and bottle tops, pay slips, cd cases and a remote control for a stereo that doesn't work. Even the files on my computer have somehow become jumbled. My usual anal habit of keeping the desktop clutter-free has been left by the wayside.

I got in from work today and had a beer and a quarter of Toblerone for dinner, then I washed it all down with a couple more beers.

Next day off I get, I have to tidy.

The holidays are over people, get back to normal.

Well that's Christmas over and done with.

Moving onto the year ahead I'm going on holiday. It is going to be massive. I'm pretty sure on where I'm going and what I'm doing but until I do I'm not going to leave a trial of bread crumbs, I'm just going to leave you in the dark and then hit you with it. It's going to be sooooo ace. I'll have something to write about again. Sweet.

At work today one of my machines caught fire. Not a big one, more a smoulder than a fire, but still. . .

All my training came into its own, years of lectures and self preservation techniques kicked straight into action as to stop the fire alarm going off, I poured cold coffee onto a large electrical machine.

If there is one thing I need a the moment. . . . it's that holiday!

Where's a good protest when you want one.

Today at work we were hoping for Animal Rights Protestors to come to the shop and start harking on about how terrible it is that a couple of animal had to die for the well being of the human race. Me and the rest of the staff were soooo up for a big protest. Something to give the day a bit of flavour. And yet, it would seem apathy won yet again and nobody turned up. Booo.

So I had to spend a normal day at work with no crowd of crazy tree huggers banging drums and trying to be political to cheer me up.

It's weird, being quite liberal myself I thought I would be able to sympathise with animal rights people, but I just can't. When they go on (and on) about how terrible it is that we test drugs on rats I just think, "well hey dude, I test them too so quit bitchin'", then when they say that we shouldn't use animals for science I think, "well hey dude, my bro would be dead if we didn't so quit bitchin'", then they use the good old 'Meat is Murder' line I think, "well hey dude, meat is dinner, so why don't you bite me instead and quit bitchin'".

Other stores got protestors, we got nothing. . . . denied.

*cough* *cough*

For the majority of the day I have to wear a dust mask while I'm in my workshop. I only really need it for a couple of the machines but it's such a pain putting my protective stuff on and off all freaking day that I tend to keep my mask on. I've started taping a big "X" on the front of it to give it a bit of character but I felt more was needed.

Then today I had a brainwave. From this day onward, my dust mask is going to be adorned with the phrase "I have SARS."

Brilliant.

The inner monologue of todays crash.

Faster Wardy, must go faster. Must show that even though I'm on someone else's bike I've still got it. That's it, pedal harder, pick up speed.

Ohhh, nicely done. Drop it a gear, pedal hard down the hill. Ohhh, yeah. Holy moly I've got a lot of speed up. Ok, ok, calm down, spot your line around the corner. Right then, aim for the apex. Crap! There's a bench in the way. Ok, cool down hot shot, just go a little wide. Damn, picked up too much speed, get on the brakes now Wardy, lets take some of the oomph out of this flying machine.

Hmmm, not slowing down a lot. Pull the levers harder, no no, that's not working. Man I wish I was on my bike, where are disk brakes when you need them. Ok, think faster, pick your line, try and lose more speed.

Still not slowing down, hmmm, the brake levers wont pull and tighter. Well well, this should be interesting. Right then Wardy, time to get serious. You're going way too fast to get around this corner, evasive manoeuvres required.

Start evasive manouvers. . . now - crap, too late!

Lean, lean damn you, swivel your hips in the direction you want to go, careful with the brakes. Mind the bench, lean further, get around this damn corne - WHOA - ok calm down. You bailed. You're on your side. Balls, this is going to burn sooooo bad. Still sliding, watch where you're going, don't hit anything. Look, look, wet soggy grass, I'm sliding straight onto wet soggy gra - Airborne, I'm in the air. Ok, I'm spinning around in the ai - Aarrgggh, just landed. Where am I, oh yeah, sliding I'm just - Airborne, whoa I'm spinning again. Does my shin hurt? Hope I don't injure myself when I - Aarrgggh that's the floor, oohhhhh that's gonna sting in the morning. Still moving, still sliding fast. I'm on my back, my legs are tangled in the bike, lets hope I don't flip again. Man I'm sliding a long way. Hey, check it out. There's Fran and Ezra coming down the path. Frans shouting something, whats that. . oh, got it. Am I ok? Woo Hoo, I'm fine dude. Still sliding though.

Ok, I've stopped sliding. I'm in one piece. Check your legs Wardy, make sure nothings broken, check out that shin. Ok ok, I'm good. Just bruised. Bad Ass, That was cool. Where are the guys? I wish we had that on camera.



Ahhhh Damnit, I've busted my headset again!!!!

Money Matters.

This week has been the kind of week that makes me despise not being unfathomably rich. The past week has just been a week of my life gone by with nothing to show for it. Yes I've earnt some money. Woo pee do. I have nothing to remember this week by. There was an absence of noticeable events. My job is not varied enough for any one week to be different enough from the rest to earn a place in memory. I'm just a week older.
Sometimes I think this lottery thing is a bit of a fix. I mean, I've been playing for ages now and I still have to get up in a morning and lose the best part of my day doing something I'd rather not be. And the kicker is, my job is pretty cool. I get to work with really nice people, listening to whatever music I want, and there's a really laid back atmosphere. Can you imagine what I'd be like with a crummy job, oh boy!
Yet still, I want to be rich beyond my wildest dreams. To have the money to get out there and do stuff instead of just dreaming about it.

Still, I've got a holiday coming up in the next year so this is just all fuel to the fire to make sure I get the best out of it.

If anyone of you know of something in the world that I simply must do before I die then go the Contact page and let me know. If I end up doing it I shall personally send you a post card from wherever in the world I may be. Now that my friend, is an offer!

Money Matters.

This week has been the kind of week that makes me despise not being unfathomably rich. The past week has just been a week of my life gone by with nothing to show for it. Yes I've earnt some money. Woo pee do. I have nothing to remember this week by. There was an absence of noticeable events. My job is not varied enough for any one week to be different enough from the rest to earn a place in memory. I'm just a week older.
Sometimes I think this lottery thing is a bit of a fix. I mean, I've been playing for ages now and I still have to get up in a morning and lose the best part of my day doing something I'd rather not be. And the kicker is, my job is pretty cool. I get to work with really nice people, listening to whatever music I want, and there's a really laid back atmosphere. Can you imagine what I'd be like with a crummy job, oh boy!
Yet still, I want to be rich beyond my wildest dreams. To have the money to get out there and do stuff instead of just dreaming about it.

Still, I've got a holiday coming up in the next year so this is just all fuel to the fire to make sure I get the best out of it.

If anyone of you know of something in the world that I simply must do before I die then go the Contact page and let me know. If I end up doing it I shall personally send you a post card from wherever in the world I may be. Now that my friend, is an offer!

Congratulations, you're as useful as VD.

Today I was on my annual "what mobile phone deal can I get" shopping trip when I had the misfortune to walk into Phones 4 U. The first thing that happened once I had set foot into retail space was that someone asked me if I needed any help. Seeing as I knew exactly what I was after I thought I would take him up on the offer and save myself browsing time. "Actually", I replied "I'm looking for a PDA phone."

Silence.

"Oh" he managed after going through every PDA acronym he knew before realising he didn't know what 'acronym' stood for "I'll just go and ask someone"

and somehow it went downhill from there.

Now, I work in a ski and snowboard shop. I know little about ski's and snowboards. This is why I don't go up to people and ask them if they want help. What use am I? None.
Asking if I wanted help would imply that he could be of help to me. So why oh why when I told him what I wanted, did he look stunned. It's a PDA mate, you sell them, it's a type of mobile phone, I'm stood in a mobile phone shop, do the math.

So he went and got someone else and they got me sat down in "buyers corner", a subtle technique to make me feel compelled to buy which washed over me in exactly the same way his stinking cologne didn't, and they showed me the only PDA phone they sold.

Now I had done a mornings research on the internet to make sure I knew what I was after. I knew the particular model they showed me could not be used to access the internet in the way I needed it to. It was around this point that I thought I would play along and hopefully glean some information out of these people that I didn't already possess.
I asked if the phone could be used to access the internet. The guy, and I wish I was kidding here, turned the phone around in his hands, saw a button with a little arrow or globe on it or something and then informed me that it could indeed be used to access the internet. Well blow me away, it has a shortcut button on it. That answers all my questions straight away. I asked if they knew anything of the "walled garden" internet access as it is sloppily named, they did not. I explained that it could not be used for normal browsing, they seemed surprised. There was a man stood slightly away from us taking notes on a clip board. I had embarrassed the sales staff, they would have their revenge.

I went on to explain that I simply would not in any way be buying a phone unless I could get a full size keyboard to accompany it for text input. I know for a fact that you can buy these off the internet. The sales gang -there were now three of them- went on to explain that I could use the stylus provided to enter text and so I wouldn't need a keyboard. I explained that I would be producing Word documents and so I needed a keyboard as I could touch type and it would make it faster.

"You can input text really fast with the stylus though, it has a special input method to speed it up"
"Yes, but I can touch type so would prefer a keyboard."
"It's faster using a stylus than it is with a phone though."
"But I can touch type."
"Honestly you wouldn't believe how fast you can get."

Then it hit me. He didn't know what touch typing was. He imagined me sitting there with my mobile frantically bashing away with one thumb and he though that was what I meant.
Oh poor confused soul.

I asked if they stocked any keyboards but unfortunately they didn't.

"The only one that will work with this phone is not being released till next March."
"What about the one I could have bought off Amazon this morning?"

Silence.

Finally somebody asks me exactly why I want a PDA phone and separate keyboard. I explain and he looks at me, weighing his options.

He takes me slightly away from the others and gives me the heart to heart.

"It sounds to me mate, like you'd be better off with a laptop."
For the nth time I explain how I don't want a laptop as I need something small and portable.
"You can get them pretty small these days though."
"Yeah, but they cost a couple of thousand pounds."
"Small though."

Brilliant. No other word could describe it. I walk into a shop, am greeted by ignorance, lied to, and then told I should go somewhere else and spend a couple of thousand pounds to overcome my problem.

I have come to the conclusion that the Phones 4 U advert is not filmed in some backwards part of Kentucky, so much as in Birmingham, at the Phones 4 U annual staff party.

Needless to say, I shall never again be setting foot into any of their stores.

Luckily though, since last time we met, there have been happy times also. Times that I can look back on and smile. I was talking to a friend from uni last night, she went to the theatre to watch Chicago, I went to watch Joseph. Although this tragically highlighted the class difference between us, it only brought a grin to my face as I cast my mind back. Since Chris has already written about the night, I shall point you there.

And remember people, "It takes a man who knows no fear, to wrestle, with a goat."

You wanna buy some Skunk?

Was not a question I was expecting as I walked into Gap today. However, it would seem that buying drugs in my city centre is now simply a matter of walking around and looking like the type of person that would buy drugs. Unfortunately, if I was going to buy drugs would I really buy it off some random scabby guy that accosts me in the street? It would seem so much more logical that this guy should concentrate his efforts on the literal crowds of urban scum that accumulate like brown froth on shallow streams, rather than any old uber-dude that just happens to be walking by.

However, being the type of person that sells drugs in the street probably rules him out of being able to make these kind of informed decisions about society. That coupled with my blatant disregard for clothes that look like they were made to fit, hair so outrageously out of control that I'm seriously considering wearing a beanie to the gym, and a friend who look like he probably does use drugs on a regular basis, and I can kind of see where the poor chap was coming from.

Needless to say, I did not purchase any of this mans questionable-in-quality skunk and busied myself with distracting the manager of Gap from doing his job properly by trying on any item to hand and organising a "Welcome to the city" outing with him.

It was while in Gap, distracting the manager, not buying drugs, that I was remind of something that happened almost exactly three years ago. I was out shopping for a friends birthday and we decided we would get this ace stuffed monkey we had seen.

As a side note, this was not during the big ITV monkey saga, it was not the ITV monkey, the ITV monkey and this story, no relevance hold.

It was dressed in a bright yellow mak and hat which we thought were a bit lame so we decided to take it to Gap and get it some nice clobber. We entered the shop, went upstairs to the Baby Gap section and flagged the attention of a nice girl on sales.
The conversation went as close as matters to the following.

Hi, I think we're going to need a bit of help here.

OK, how old is the baby that you are buying for.

Well, it's not so much of a baby. . . . as we need you to dress this monkey.

(Wardy pulls the monkey from the bag with all the pride that a monkey can be pulled out of a bag with)

Oh.

Yeah.

True to form though she pulled through and we bought some tiny trousers and a tiny top. The monkey looked ace, the present was well received and another birthday went down a storm.

Remembering that made me wish I had started this blog when I was 15. So much stuff has happened that I have forgotten about. I know that most of it is lost forever so it's always nice to get things like this down so I can look back in years to come.

Saying that , the university dialogue is coming along nicely and if anyone reading this was at uni with me and can think of something memorable that happened, then mail me and I'll be sure to include it.

Theatre tomorrow, I'll let you know how it goes.

Skunkless Wardy out.

Is it wrong to laugh on my own?

I have been sat here today in hysterics. I'm writing about my time at university and I was sat giggling to myself like a little girl as I typed away. It was the little things in the big things that made me laugh. For example, it wasn't so much the practical joke I was writing about that made me laugh, so much as the look on my housemates face when he watched me throw a bag of flour out the window. Just remembering how hard I was laughing on that day made me crack up all over again. I can still see Olly now, a look of complete astonishment on his face. Torn between laughing out loud, and being so astonished that he couldn't laugh.
Good times.

This is my first day off since graduation and it has been nice to just sit and write. I cant believe how hard I used to find it trying to find another 1000 words to put in an essay when today I just sat and wrote page after page without thinking about it. I really really want a cheap laptop. I think I'm going to go shopping for one with my first pay packet. I don't want anything fancy, just a word processor so I can go out and sit in other places when I write. If I can find one for below £100 then all the better.

Dodgy second hand shops and rip-off merchants, here I come!

Work consumes me.

I really do wish I could update more. There has been a rash of funny stuff happen at work but I'm either in too late to write before I have to get to bed (I'm a bit of a sleep monster) or I'm just plain old knackered and want a nice cup of tea.

I'm going to the theatre this weekend. "Very cultured Wardy." I hear you shout, well it would be if I wasn't going to see Joseph and his amazing technicolor dreamcoat. If there were ever a show to remind me of my childhood this would be it. Car journeys listening to the tape from beginning to end, singing all the words are a memory I will never lose. Neither will I forget that I used to think they sang "And throw the Cheese into the Nile as well." I was young folks, and with a vivid mind. I did use to wonder what cheese had to do with it though.

My snowboarding is slowly improving. I'm only falling on my ass every other run now. I'm sure within a matter of months I'll be popping a 340 hang rail goofy backside grab thing on the merest of whims.

While I have written about a number of things over the time this blog has been up and running, never in a week have I had such a diverse range of people visit. I'm glad that I'm attracting attention, it's just that the sort of attention I'm attracting isn't always what I would expect.

If you are the company that you keep, I think I need to evaluate my life.

Decide for yourself which worse, the Geek (1st) , or the Freak (8th).

Laters.

You may remember this post. Yeah I was on my soap-box, and with good reason too. The guy in question left for Afghanistan today. He's going back out after the country nearly took his life.

I used to think I was fairly brave. Now, I'm not so sure. It takes a whole different kind of courage to stand up and walk back towards a situation that almost killed you.

He is a Christian in the way that men should be.

Stay safe Tom.

Wardy Fireball BSc.

It's over.
I've graduated.
Another part of my life is behind me. All I have left is memory and friends.

All I have left, is more than enough.

It's my birthday . . . .yesterday.

I'm now yet another year older. Yesterday I turned 24 to the rapturous applause of myself. Now I'm getting old (ha) I think I should start setting definite goals for myself. Last year for me was all about graduating. Now I'm not at uni I don't really have anything to aim towards. I no longer have a big 'goal' in life. It should be my career, but hey, I don't even know what I want that to be. So instead of being some target that I can only achieve through brown nosing my way to the top in some dead end job I don't even want, my targets are going to be personal. They will be targets that I can achieve through just putting my mind to it, and getting on and doing them. Because of this they will be goals about me, they will not be goals about 'things'. For example, I was going to have "leave the country" on this list but I could walk down the street and book a ticket to anywhere. There is no process involved. These goals have to be about personal achievement, not materialistic gain.

And so, my targets are as follows.

- Be able to do the splits.
- Be able to do 10 one legged squats on each leg.
- Be able to do 5 one arm pushups on each arm.
- Be able to play the blues on the piano.
- Stop picking my nails.
- Write at least one of those things I've always said I should write.

There you go. So easy to write, so dastardly to accomplish!

The first three are physical goals. Now I've stopped trying to put weight on I've kinda slipped from going to the gym. I'm resigned that I'll never be the big, so I figure I should try and be strong instead. As for the splits, well I just think it's be cool to be able to do that!

The next is a skill. I love listening to music and have dabbled with playing instruments in the past. I have a bit of a soft spot for the piano so I'm gonna give it a go. 12-bar boogie here we come!

The next is personal. I have a horrid habbit of picking my nails. I just can't stop myself from doing it. I cannot remember a time when I didn't do it but it's getting annoying now. I constantly have really ratty, nasty nails. I'm almost embarrassed to let people see my hands. This has to end.

The last one is emotional. I've had something I've wanted to write going round my head for a while now. I even started it once but never got very far. I would love to just take myself away for a week to somewhere secluded and get it out my system. Just me, a laptop and nice whisky.


So this time next year I'll check back and see if I managed any of them.

I'm hoping this list will help me regain the motivation I seem to have lost over the past months. If I have something to work towards it should kick start me into life.
I want my spark back.

Too tired.

To write much. This is why.

Just time to say, apologies to the guy who found my site through this search. Denied.

I'm going to start running in a morning before work. Not going to the gym is making me feel all lethargic, I can almost feel my fitness levels dropping. Hopefully the painfully early mornings will become second nature to me soon and I wont dread them as much.

You may also remember the Piano vs Guitar problem that I was musing over before. Well today I bought myself a book on playing the piano, I'm going to use my evenings for something more constructive than watching telly.
One of my workmates is giving me a snowboarding lesson tomorrow too so in a couple of months I should have a two more skills to add to my repertoire.

Tired, so very tired.

Wardy out.

Captain Ronald Brown.

My entire blog entry for the last week has just paled into insignificance after seeing this picture of Ron on the internet. Coupled with the e-mail I just got off him I have been sat here laughing my ass off.
Ron is a bandit who fully bailed on me to go on the worlds most spectacular holiday leaving me in England having to catch busses in the freezing cold and work eleven hour days.
He also got me pushed in a canal because he's too stupid to react fast.

I say these things because I'm jealous.

PS. Ron once vomited on his pillow because he didn't lean far enough out his window to be sick while drunk. This is the type of person that is protecting our environment.

Start worrying,
,
,
,
now.

The Debate Rages On!

Which is cooler. Zero gravity, or throwing cats.
Now, most people have easy access to a cat which they can throw. Not so many of us can quickly and reliably experience weightlessness. This has often meant that this debate could never be answered. Untill now.

Why can't we all just get along, and enjoy both at the same time!

This is what the internet is about.

Cast your mind back if you may, to when I was harking on about The How And The Tao Of Old Time Banjo. Well the guy who wrote the book mailed me and thanked me for drumming up support.
Now, I'm not one to let a kind gesture like that go unnoticed, so it is without further ado that I bring two of my favourite things together: Music and Nice People.

Patrick Costello is so cool that not only has he released one book on the internet free of charge, he has put a second one on too. The How And The Tao Of Folk Guitar Volume One: Getting Started is now free for the world to enjoy. This means that if you want to learn how to play folk guitar, you can get first rate information, free. He is also releasing the second and third books in the series under the Creative Commons licence so you will be able to get those free in the future too.
It is people like Patrick Costello that make the internet great. Everybody sharing the knowledge they have with each other, no string attached.
If you already play the guitar, go and look for fresh ideas; if you are wanting to learn, what better place to start.

I know quite a few people that are learning to play the guitar and I expect you all to check this book out.

Help out the good guys people, it doesn't cost you anything and in your own little way you are helping to shape the internet into a bigger, better thing.

Cheating and stupidity.

We would awake. The crisp morning sun would beam through our thin curtains lighting the room with a welcoming glow.
We would roll over, pull the duvet over our head and try to fall back to sleep.

I've always preferred sunrise to sunset. I can see how sunsets have become more popular as you are usually awake to witness a sunset, and so appreciate it. But sunsets represent the end of something. Watching sunsets marks the end of a beautiful day or the end of a memorable year. Sunrise gets shunned. But to me, sunrise means more. You have to make an effort to witness a sunrise. You don't witness a sunrise by being drunk one night and just happening to be watching the sky when the sun goes down. To catch a sunrise needs a bit of effort. To me they mean more, they mark the beginning of something. They are the start, and sunset is the end. I'm all for fresh starts.

Apart from when you've had a bit too much to drink the night before. In that case, sack sunrise. Who cares a bit about its beauty or majesty, turn it off. Make the light go away, shut the blinds, get me a glass of water, and make it night again.

I didn't appreciate one morning at the cottage. The only happiness they brought me was thinking back to the night before and remembering the laughs that we had.

Laughs like playing board games.

First up was Pictionary. The lads (me and Chris) got fully owned by the gals (Katie and Jo). It was painful to watch us lose. Chris is a graphic designer and with my imagination I thought we would have this game sewn up.
Not so.

We even cheated and still lost.

Well, I say Cheated. That is a strong word. It brings with it connotations of deceitfulness and dishonesty. We didn't so much cheat as we did strongly imply what a word may be. . . through the use of pictures. . . and some letters. . . . letters which may or may not have spelt the word we were trying to guess. . . . repeatedly.

But it all came unstuck when after a seemingly superhuman effort I guessed Leisure Centre in all of nine seconds. (damn you alcohol for clouding my judgement of time!) The gals asked to see our picture, and well you know. . . we didn't have one.

Busted.

So the rest of the game was played with all decorum and we got our assess whipped.

But the night after when we played again. . . this was a different kettle of fish.

The word was Dragonfly. It was an Allplay, so we were against each other to see who could guess it first. Chris and Jo were drawing, me and Katie were on interpretation duty.
The timer was started. Chris started on his abstract construct of what he sees as a Dragonfly. I got as far as Moth before taking a large swig from my whisky and wondering where the hell he was going with this.
Sure doom was looking us in the face. Chris has started on a tangent which no doubt was meant to 'help' me. My guesses were becoming more erratic, time was nearly out, the page was starting to resemble an entomologists scrap book, when from out of nowhere our deliverance sounded.

Imagine, if you will. What a whisper would sound like if it were not so much a whisper, as a cough . . . and if the volume didn't so much resemble the volume of a whisper, so much as that of a cough. . . . and if the whisper didn't sound so much like " wsshs" so much as "Dragonfly".

Imagine if you will, girls trying to cheat at Pictionary.

Whisper-coughing the word, loudly, when the opposition are sat no more than a meter away is not recommended practice for increasing your chances of 'getting away with it'.

Needless to say that Chris and I went on to take the game with a commanding lead. A lead so commanding in fact that it has been rumoured that we cheated. This is a rumour that we shall neither confirm nor deny. Needless to say that if we were cheating, we got it down to a fine art and for the whole game nobody noticed.

That is of course, if we were cheating. Which we were not. Not at all. Not once. Never.



After picturing ourselves out we though a game of Scrabble would calm things down.
Oh ho ho . . .wrong.

Before I tell this story. You have to remember that I was drinking the finest single malt Scottish whisky. Laphroig aged 15 years. Sweet and surprisingly mellow to start, with a slow burning peat smoke flavour building up towards the finish. This stuff is gorgeous, not my favourite, but a fine fine whisky none the less. This was a high pressure environment I was in, we were playing board games for heavens sake. I had consumed maybe more of this whisky than my cognitive capacity would have liked.

I had a great word ready. It was Wessex (a place in England). There was one E on the board and I had another. The move before mine Chris put a word down and I no longer had room for my super word. My W would have joined our too words together. I was gutted, I could see nothing else on the board. I would have got a double word score for this, and now, nothing. After longer than was socially acceptable sat looking at the board I had to throw my problem over to the other players. I could see no alternative.

I told them of my problem and a silence descended. They sat there looking at each other, confused faces one and all. I could see pity in their eyes, 'I know' I thought, 'my letters suck'. I could feel their condolences reaching out for me across the table, an almost unified sigh of regret that my letters, did indeed, suck.

Katie turned to me, she looked me straight in the eye, I could tell that this was where my game ended. I would have to pull out, put my letters back in the bag and make coffee for everyone. She took a controlled breath. "Wow" I thought, "she's taking this a bit hard".
With all the pity in the world, she looked at me and said,

"Why don't you just have Essex. . . . . Numbnuts!"

Awwww, Damn.

It was looking me in the face the whole time. The worst part about it was that I didn't even twig straight away and had to check that I had all the letters.

Man alive, sometimes I embarrasses myself.

Needless to say, I lost at scrabble. . . twice.



More tomorrow.

Wardy gets all academic.

Would you belive it. Check this bad boy out.
Who says I can't be serious when I want to.

To whoever it was that did this search, I hope it helped.

Dawn of the brain dead.

Setting off on Thursday I was expecting to be able to just kick back and relax. I thought this trip would chill me out. I was hoping for a nice sit down in the country, a couple of red wines by the open fire, intellectual conversation and a general feeling of well being.
Boy, was I disappointed.

It all started in Loughborough (pronounced Luffburra for the American contingent). Katie and I stopped off at Safeways to get some drinks in. As we were leaving the shop we were presented with a display of child-parent trust that would change my entire outlook of the weekend.

They were dawdling. Nobody likes being stuck behind dawdlers. As we ever so slowly followed Gran, Mum and Kid out the automatic doors my mind was on the car journey ahead of us. Mum was holding Kids hand. They approached the doors. The Kid was looking forwards. He was looking forwards. He was looking forwards. He just walked plain as day into a wall.

Just like that. Wham!

Don't laugh Wardy. Crap, Katies gonna laugh. Look away. How did he not see the wall?? Parents are Very close by, for the love of God don't laugh! Walk away, walk away from the parents and walk away from Katie. Katie is giggling, walk away from her, walk anywhere but just walk and don't laugh!

Don't laugh Wardy!

This poor kid was led directly into a wall by his mom. They were holding hands and I'm guessing that the Kid wasn't leading. I will never know how neither of them saw this collision coming. Yet for a good 10 meters the impact was inevitable and neither of them tried to rectify the situation. Wham!

From that moment, my relaxing weekend away was changed from the calm tempered, red wine sipping, open fire stoking, fresh air breathing experience I was hoping for, into a riotous four days. Not a day passed in which I did not laugh with all my breath. It was a far better break than I could have hoped for.

Here of a select few of the highlights.

Dawn.

We stopped at a service station on the way down for a pick-me-up coffee. As we went to pay for the goods we were met with a suspiciously jolly Brummie. You know the type, the ones that overcompensate for hating their jobs by being everything and more management want them to be in the vain hope they will get promoted and no longer have to serve rude business types their complicated coffee orders while fending off advances from the 'chef' who works behind the hot sausage rolls and pies counter.
I digress.

Dawn was obviously a woman. I mean no disrespect by this. Just to clarify that even from a distance, you would assume she was a woman. There was no doubt in my mind that Dawn was a woman.
I went to pay for our coffees and was presented with a grin as wide as her midlands accent was annoying.

"€œMy names not Michael."

- Cue me, stood, looking shocked.
- Still looking shocked.
- Trying to think of something to say.
- Feeling helpless.

"Oh, did you forget your name badge and had to wear another one then?" cue nervous laughter.

"No."
"My names not Michael."

- Cue me, just stood there. Lost for words.
- Still stood.
- Waiting to pay for coffee.
- I'm confused too now.

"Oh, how much is the coffee?"

- Clever, just ignore her, pay for the coffee and get the hell away.

"It's £3.60. But if they ask, my names not Michael."

- If WHO ask. The doctors?
- What does this woman want of me. Give me my coffee and let me go. I thought the motorways were meant to be the safest way to travel by car. Apparently they didn't take service stations into account.

"On the receipt, it says I'm called Michael, but I'm not. I've borrowed someone's card."

- Finally I understand. On the receipt, which she has not yet given me, it will say I was served by Michael, not Dawn. I will look at this receipt for all the time it takes to put it in my pocket, which I can't do because she is yet to give it me.

Instead of just telling me to ignore the name on the receipt, which I can image would be important for one in a couple of hundred thousand people, she just sends out crazy signals and expects me to join dots that I don't even know exist.

My names not Michael.
That's great love, but instead of playing impossi-puzzles with you can I just pay for my drinks and be on my way. Guessing an unimportant error on a piece of paper I wont look at, before you have even given it to me, was not on my top ten list today.

I blame the businessmen for turning normal workers into this.


The Jolly Locals.

I went into the local video store to buy a Scart adaptor. The guy who served us was the single most cheery man I have met. He could not have been happier to see us. He was delighted that he had what we were looking for. He was over the moon that we were buying something. He was overjoyed that we had nearly the right money. He was ecstatic that were happy customers. He was great.

Then I had to have an obligatory look in the charity shops. We found some funny stuff to buy, it came to the earth shattering total of 50p. At the counter the lovely dear couldn't quite get her head around us trying to give her a full pound, when it only came to 50p. She kept on counting the coins as if to clarify to herself that we had given her too much. She insisted we didn't have to. We assured her it was no bother. She looked so surprised it made it all worthwhile.


There is more to tell about the weekend, including "Cheating at board games, Why girls shouldn't try" and "My train carriage is flooding, how nice."

But before this post gets too long to be interesting I'm going to end it.

More tomorrow.

ps - apologies to Dawn. I try to avoid being directly rude about people but the title of this post made me laugh. sorry lass.

Sweet money, and bitter blood.

Once again the world shows that it likes to keep a balance in all things.

This weekend was yet another example of why you shouldn?t get too down when things are rough, and you shouldn?t get too happy when things are good.

I found out this Friday that I got the job I wanted. Yehaa and all that. This should mean that in about five months I will have mastered the basics of snowboarding and will be able to go on holiday somewhere snowy and actually have a laugh, as apposed to still being in the ?falling down while learning? stage.

So, we have a new job. This = Good.

Well that afternoon I took my bike out into the peaks for the first real test of its performance. (yes, another story about my bike, lucky you). All was going well, I was definitely faster than usual, confidence levels were high, storming along the top of some crags, my brain registering and evaluating every rock and making split second decisions about which route to take.
Well, that was the theory.
But where the body was willing, the brain failed. To me, the riding, and the pain were not separated by time, My brain was too shocked to register the flight and commit it to memory. One moment I was riding, the next I had face planted a rock, absolutely sure that I had broken my nose.
As luck would have it, my nose did not break. This is thanks solely to my helmet. The front of my helmet stopped my face from being too closely introduced to the rock. So while my soft squidy nose took the initial impact, my helmet quickly took over and stopped me messing my features up.
After a quick breather to compose myself, we set off and finished the ride. Oh yeah, we also had to cycle back up to the top of the massive hill because even though we had two cars and were going to shuttle run it back to top, someone forgot the keys.

. . . oh yeah. . . that was me. . . sorry Ez!

My first major ?new bike? ride and my first major fall. Lets hope I don?t keep this up eh.

So, I fell off my bike. This = Bad.

If I have learnt one thing, it is that you shouldn?t get smug when things go right, and you shouldn?t get down when they go wrong.
The world really is in balance, just ride it out.

Linkage.

Every now and again I like to post up some of the more interesting parts of the internet that I have found. Then I e-mail the post to Blogger, then I spend the next 15 minutes sorting out all the html that gets messed up somewhere between me hitting send, and the post getting published.
Every time.
Without fail.

Every been a child. Ever dreamt of having your own secret underground hideout" I still to this day dream of having a secret underground hideout. I saw recently on some Dream Home program this place in Turkey that had been built on the entrance to a cave and the house opened up in the kitchen to a huge cave complex. It took about five to seven seconds for me to fall deeply in love with the house. Image it, your own cave! How superhero cool is that. Finding some unexplored part of a city that you can take refuge in just rocks. The instinct is just built into us. Exploring is fun, even more so when you are doing it in secret under everyone"s noses. That is why I fully, and with all my heart, love this story. I found it a while back and forgot to write about it. It has everything that my heart craves, adventure, secret clubs, mystery and an out of this world "we know who you are" ending.

Man, I wish I was invited.

Luckily for me though, I have found a way to inject this adventure into my life. Thanks to advances in modern technology we can now experience what is usually reserved for backwards thinking, hooch drinking inbred rednecks.

While all this wishful thinking and daydreaming is nice, I still do find the time to get out into the real world every now and again.
It was during one of these excursions that I learnt something very important.
I was sat talking to a girl and she assured me that cooking is the way to a woman"s heart. I thought she was kidding at first but she assured me that if a man shows he is handy in the kitchen, he scores big points. This came as a bit of a blow as I"ve been stockpiling expensive diamond rings and air miles to romantic destinations to aid me in my "wooing". After thinking carefully about it I went on to sell all this expensive crap and found a website that can help turn my easily bored, analytical mind into a fine food super machine.
Now all I need is a date to try my finest cuisine on.

Unimaginable knowledge.

There have been a few baddies over the years trying to amass such a thing.
If only they had been alive in the future then it would have been so easy.

Brewster Kahle (founder of the Internet Archive, my favourite source for free and legal downloadable music) just delivered an amazing presentation called Universal Access to All Human Knowledge. He basically wants to archive all the information ever created in the world. Notes from the presentation taken by Cory Doctorow can be found here.

Can you imagine having free and quick access to all the information in the world. Man alive, I can waste time with the best of them on the internet, but to have literally all the information in the world at my fingertips would be too cool for words. I don't know what I'd do with it like, but it would be nice to find out.



For the nay-sayers out there, let me whet your appetite for universal knowledge with this book which is available online thanks to the Creative Commons licence. Sit back, buckle up and get ready for the might that is The How and the Tao of old Time Banjo.

I think we have a banjo in the attic somewhere. I might just have to get it out and see if I can rip chords with the best of them.





Changing direction slightly. President Bush is so god-awful stupid that this is probably true. It wouldn't even surprise me if this was actually the President but names had to be changed to protect the uncommonly dumb.



Lastly, this is just another example of why we'll tolerate the French, just that little bit longer.

Hair and Bikes.

Two of the subjects that have been taking up space in this blog recently.
Lets go through them in order.



Hair.



I decided to get a haircut as my graduation is coming up and my hair was
moving away from "cooky cool" to "Hasselhoff cool". I got some pictures of
what I was after and booked myself into a salon to have a word with one of
the guys. We chatted about what would and wouldn't work with Gene Wilders
rejected hairpiece and he had some grand ideas. Seeing as it wasn't going to
cost me the earth (a sign a should have noted) I decided to just go ahead
with it. The plan was to take the bulk out of the afro I was sporting and
leave a smaller fro with wispy bits sticking out aka medusa.



However, once the cut was finished and the 'product' reared its ugly head,
my stubborn curls got their revenge. The wispy bits just refused to be
wispy. They curled straight back on to themselves and disappeared back into
my now very much smaller afro.



This means I have now gone from zero maintenance but subject to taste hair,
to high maintenance but subject to taste hair. Not a good move.



I'm determined that my hair will look good long. It just has to. I've lived
with short hair for way too long to have to deal with it again. So I'm back
to growing my hair. Luckily he didn't fully crop me so there is a fair bit
of length there, once pulled straight.



Note to self, trying to make yourself look cool doesn't work.

Take what you've got and roll with it.



Bikes.



I got my first air today. . . SIR!



Oh yes, the obligatory "Point Blank" esqe quote to kick things off. But I
did indeed, catch my first air today. While exploring the local woods I
found a bike trail fully set up with cambered corners, jumps and all. I
found a jump that had 'beginner' written all over it and got to work. My
progress was in three distinct phases.



ONE.

Rolling over the jump at speed and summing up more and more courage to go
faster each time and finally get a wheel off the floor.



TWO.

Getting the front wheel to travel a fair distance but not really feeling
like I was 'jumping'. More 'hitting the ramp at speed'.



THREE.

A real life jump. Landing on the rear wheel first (most of the time), and
feeling like a champion.



I've got to get good at this jumping lark, it just looks so groovy on the
telly.



I want a piece of that.

How badly do I wanna get Beatified!!!

When did the Catholics start having all the fun eh??


While Gods messenger on earth sat slumped like a turnip in a barrow full of spuds, 'struggling for breath', he got to beatify some stiffs. Now in the side box it says that Beatification (how fully awesome is that word) requires that a miracle have occurred.

Yet I went to Italian-born (and mystic) nun Maria Ludovica De Angelis' write up on the Vatican website and it doesn't mention anything about a miracle. Which I, albeit being a mere unbeliever, assumed would be rather important. This seems to be the only thing the individual themselves have to do to be considered for Beatification.

And yet, nothing.


Now I'm not saying that she wasn't a top lass. But rules are rules, and
these are Gods rules.

Well they probably are, I don't know a lot about the Catholic faith, maybe there was a Saint who got the Beatification process explained to him one day over lamb.


So then I looked up French monk Joseph-Marie Cassant, lo and behold, his Vatican write up contains no mention of a miracle either. In fact, this guy basically did nothing other than be a nice guy. I quote "The sheer ordinariness of his life has been noted by some".


So now we get on to Frenchman Pierre Vigne who founded an order of nuns, again, no mention of a miracle. Sorry peeps. It does mention that his dad was an "honest textile merchant" which is good . . . but miraculous. . . I'm erring on the side of no.


The Pope it would seem, is just getting his own back at God. "The pope has now beatified some 1,340 people, more than all his predecessors combined, Reuters news agency says." I don't blame him. The poor guys a wreck. He probably thought that when he was ordained he would get it easy. After all, he is basically Gods squash partner. He's got about a gamillion people praying for him and he still needs somebody to wipe his mouth. God wont heal him, but he wont let him die either. The poor guy just keeps on getting rolled out every time the Vatican has something to say.



I'm all for the pope. He knew what he wanted to do and he went for it. But now he's just a frustrated old man, mumbling his way through speech after speech. Beatification is probably his little way of having fun. He can hardly do a bungee jump to raise money for a school, nor can he join in a sponsored Macarena.



You have to make fun for yourself wherever you can find it. So if the pope wants to keep on pushing the boundaries of Beatification, then I'm all for him.

He must have sat there going "ohhh, let me think, a guy that didn't do anything and a mystic!! Oh yeah, that's a good one!"


Then when this furore from this ceremony has settled down, a little grin will draw itself across his face as he laughs and thinks, "I've got it! A litigator and a modern artist! That should turn the Basilica into a hoot."

Urban Freeriding. Council Style.

I have discovered a mecca. It was staring me in the face all the time. Every
time I drive home, I saw it, but never really appreciated what I was looking
at.



Behind my house, is an undiscovered wonderland of mountain biking track. It's
not a massive place, just one small hill. But it has all the essential
elements, mainly nice tight trails that weave and bob through woodland.

Added to the excitement are the felled trees that are often laid across the
track by the local deviants for no more reason than 'havin a laff'. The car
parts founds in strategic piles where the casual police officer would not
notice a wreck straight away. The nettles at shin level, the needle thin
branches teasing onto the path at eye level, the occasional large rock at
tyre level.



The place was surrounded by council estates, that is, until one of them was
pulled down. It is this strange mix of natural beauty and chav playground
that makes the routes so interesting. The splashes of colour under the
foliage are rarely flowers. More discarded Dyson vacuum cleaners, car brake
lights, or WKD bottles. Falling into the shrubbery is not advised.



It looks like the paths get a lot of use. There used to be a real problem
with trails bikes going up there and tearing the place up. I have to say,
hat off to them. Some of the drops are truly impressive and there are recent
signs of use. Who ever is riding up there has some serious skill.



Me, I'm going to stick to my trusty mountain bike and work up the guts to
attempt some of the crazily steep bits and jumps.





Oh yeah, I might try and stop talking about my bike as well





don't hold your breath.

The king of all PS2 games.

Amplitude. I am addicted to this game. I neeeed to own a PS2 for the near
future so I cam complete it. It is way too addictive for words and even
though it contains "music" tracks from the Dance and Drum and Bass genres, I
still love it.



This game overrides your body. You get to a point where you no longer
consciously think about which button to press next, your brain just moves
your fingers for you. I felt like a silent observer as my brain did all the
hard work for me and I was left watching the score rack up.



Anyone can play this game, albeit not well. But that is the true test of a
game, it is easy to play, difficult to master. But hey, I want to try
anyway.



If you own a PS2 and you want a game for your next party. This is it.



The cleats finally arrived for my bike today. I have fitted them to my
trainers so tomorrow is testing day. I predict many falls, many scrapes and
a few bruises. I'm going to cycle around the park until I feel I have got
all the falls out of my system. Next week I'm off into the peaks with my
mountain biking buddy. Now I've got suspension I'm going to kick his ass on
the descent. Falling off is not an option.



As far as dints in the social calendar go, taking a dive would be a big one.

Putting the "Crap", into "Crap Customer Service."

My dear Chris, if I had a sister, I would be introducing her to
you right about now.
While you celebrate your 'anniversary' of sorts, I have been screwed twice
this week already. However, where you are looking for an involved
relationship and maybe a little bit of pillow talk, I have simply had the
customer service departments of large established corporations taking turns
on my ass.

Then they didn't even call. Sniff sniff.

Example of ass banditry one: My
mobile phone isn't working properly so I called up my insurance to sort it
out.

Hi, my mobile isn't working so I want a new one. I'm on your gold insurance.

OK, have you got your phone wet, knocked it into anything or dropped it
recently.

No, it's just knackered.

I'm afraid unless you caused the damage there's nothing I can do for you.

But it's just bust, I pay insurance, cant you just give me a new one.

Sorry.

OK then. I dropped it. Can I have a new phone please.

Sorry sir I cant do that.

But the only way I can get a new one is to lie, at least I'm being. . . . . . CLICK

The phone goes dead. The bandits hung up on me. There is a sore feeling in
my loins.


Example of ass banditry two. The bike saga.

So my bike will defiantly come with cleats? (metal plates that let me attach my trainers to the pedals.)

Yes.

It will DEFINITELY come with them.

Yes, definitely.

Because I've got my trainers already and want to take it out as soon as I get it.

The bike will come with cleats.

Bike arrives, No cleats.

Hi, you assured me the bike you sent me would come with cleats and it didn't, can you send them me?

Yeah sure, I'll put them in with your gloves that have just arrived from the
suppliers. (that they assured me they had in when I ordered the bike.)

So they will go in the post today?

Yes.

And that will be next day delivery.

Yes.

So I'll get my gloves and cleats on Monday?

Yes, I'll put them in dispatch right now.


NEWS FLASH. They didn't fucking arrive.

I am SUCH a sucker some times. I should have realised that because I got
such a good deal, they would have to screw me over somewhere down the line.
They even had the audacity to call me up and moan at me because my card was
refused when they tried charging me £100 too much. (yes, I did spend
approximately 95% of my worldly money on this bike, only to be whole
heartedly rogered in the process)

So now tomorrow I have to call my phone company and lie to them, then I have
to call the bike shop and be lied to.

This world it would seem, likes to keep a balance.

A Quantum Leap moment. . . . Oh Boy!

The seasons, much like athletes foot, come and go. There was once a time
when this blog was somewhere to start your day with interesting links to
parts of the web you would otherwise be unaware of. So in the same vein as
Dianas death, I thought I would drag it out of the back catalogue and
subject you to it all over again.



I can't think of a clever way to introduce this next link. I just deleted
what I had because it was neither clever, nor funny, nor interesting. Much
like Hollyoaks infact. So click here and see a master at work.



Black Metal. Gathering together all that is dark and mysterious about heavy
metal music, and then being the complete opposite. How people can still buy into the "I listen to black metal so therefore I am tortured and evil" is beyond me. Tortured and evil people listen to the static from a telly, the silence of a tomb, or the Cheeky Girls.



Some kids TV is just too damn cool to be for kids. Much like Shrek and Toy
Story, the best bits of kids TV are when it is blatantly aimed at adults.
Adults with a kids sense of humour. SMTV has nailed this at the moment with
the sketch they call "Butthaven". Get up early next Saturday and watch it.
How they get away with this week after week I will never know, but as long
as they do, I'll try and keep watching. However, when they just go waaaaay
off the scale, it just gets painfully painfully funny. The kids don't have a
clue, and I'm left laughing my ass off. If I had seen this episode of Dick
and Dom I would have probably peed myself. Keep up the good work lads.

En Knee excuse! . . . . oh har har.

I went to see my doctor today about my knee. I wanted to know if getting
properly active again would be a stupid idea or not considering I have no
cartilage in my knee. In a nutshell he said go for it. I'm going to get
arthritis any way, and yes, doing active things will make it happen faster,
but I may as well enjoy getting to the stage where my knee hurts. He was
soooo cool. I've seen him since I was a tiny little kid and he rocks. It was
so nice to hear my doctor tell me to go out and enjoy myself. So that's
exactly what I'm going to do. Yes, I'll get a duff knee sooner than usual,
but like he said, it's going to happen at some point anyway so I may as well
look back and say "It was a right laugh getting here!"



Snowboarding lessons was that. Why ok then.



So this is sweet. I got into mountain biking as a kind of 'safe option' and
now I can go and join my mates when they do fun stuff that I would have
usually sat out of.



Arthritis, here I come!!!!

Today I became a father.

The weight in my stomach has finally gone. The mood swings, the emotional
instability, the reduced physical activity. They have all ended. Today I
witnessed a delivery, which will change my life.



It was about half three when the anguish ended. I had been strolling the
corridor all morning; waiting, nervous, knowing that it couldn't be much
longer. I kept on gazing out the window and imaging how the new arrival
would affect my life. How much of my time would be taken up by it, how much
of my money? Then I heard it, gentle at first but soon growing louder. A
sound that is golden to the ears. A sound that brought me straight back to
my senses, this was it, I dried my hands on my jeans.



Five study knocks on the door. I answered, slightly nervously, not quite
knowing what to expect. There was a man standing there, he looked me
straight in the eye and said, "Got a package for you.", I felt my knees grow
weak.



And then there it was, wrapped up so carefully in cardboard and tape. I
hulked it into the lounge, carefully removing the cargo. I took each piece
out and laid them on the floor, the large pieces I propped up against
chairs. I was amazed at how some looked, the shape, the colour. Soon the box
was empty, it was time to get to work.



Tools in hand I began, tentatively at first for I had not done this before,
but soon with the vigour of a man whose dreams are in sight. Time passed,
how much I do not know, mistakes were made which had to be carefully undone,
progress was steady.



Then I had finished. My new bike was complete. All the waiting, haggling,
numerous telephone calls and problems were over. It was here. It is mine.



So now I'm just waiting for the first chance I get to take it out in the
country. I've had a spin around the local park to test the gears and brakes
but I need a real ride. A big one, with technical trails and long downhills.



Oh man, my new bike rocks.

They're back.

Students once again descend on my city. This means the pubs will once again
come alive to the sound of "chug chug chug", the kebab shops shall be rife
with the cry of "chilli sauce and salad" and every corner in all the inner
city will be swelling with the gutteral growl of after drinks vomiting. I
love it when the students come back. It moves the chavs on, they no longer
congregate in my favourite watering holes trying to out flip more beer
coasters than each other. They no longer walk into my pubs to only play on
the lone slot machine. They no longer have the power of majority.



Oh man, I miss being a student sooooo bad.

A problem I say.

It would seem that there are still people in the world using the inferior
web browser Internet Explorer. It would also seem that the home page of this
site doesn't work properly with this browser. I'm trying to fix the problem
but you could all help me. Instead of using a crappy crappy crappy browser
like Internet Explorer, why not go and download Firefox
and find out how the internet should be used. I only use Firefox
and so never noticed that the site didn't look right. I tried to work out
why but can't due to my complete lack of Web Design knowledge. So for the
sake of me not having to take a night out of my schedule to sort this out,
just download Firefox see this site properly and get a whole lot more
from the internet than you would normally.

Gotta love Yorkshire.

Stood on top of one of the famous peaks today. Bike in hand. Rain closing in
behind, woefully underdressed for the weather, bleedin' knackered. With only
the downward sprint home, we quickly refreshed and set off.



Mental note to self. A helmet may stop me from killing myself, but landing
on a stony path at crazy per hour will make a real mess of the social
calendar.



All the more reason not to fall off then.

Tom

Welcome back home dude. Thank God - literally - that you're OK.



People, next time you're out in town and someone is collecting for charity.
Give them some money. You can afford it. If you think it's too much like
hard work to give money to good causes then think about the people that are
out there during today's messed up world putting their lives on the line to
try and help others.

They get little money and little recognition. Aid workers put themselves in
dangerous situations, not for any macho or materialistic reason, but for the
simple, almost forgotten trait, of selflessness.

They work in the most politically dangerous places on earth because if they
didn't, nobody would.



It's easy to not care about the third world because we're not in it. It isn't
easy to relate to famine when we are trying to fight obesity. It's hard to
image political persecution and a government that kills, starves and
withholds medical supplies from it's own people when western politics can
grind to a halt over the life and death question of a ministers sexuality.



But we have heard this before. The arguments have been laid out so many
times and through so many mediums that it becomes blasé. There is nothing
new to bring to the table, no new argument that will sway our judgement.



The human character is not stupid. We have the ability to weigh facts and
make decisions. The tragedy of all this is that the human character has
weighed the third world, and decided it doesn't care.



Thank God for those few that do.

The trouble with trains.

While on the train to Birmingham this weekend I had the sorry fortune to be
confronted with stupidity usually reserved for the most bizzare of Monty
Python sketches or a double bill of Trisha.

I was on one of the new Virgin trains, there were examples of the failed
eduacation system all around me. Between music tracks I could hear two of
the welfare snatching, child producing drains of society talking loudly
between themselves, and the whole carrige, as if to display just how far we
havn't come.



The woman (who shall now be refered to as 'she') was saying to the man (
'he' ) that the new doors were just soooo stupid.

"I mean, you have to press a button to open one door, and then another
button to get through the next door. It's like every door you get to you
have to press another button."



Too true my dear, too true. However, please if you will, cast your mind back
a few moments to the doors you had to overcome to get to the train station.
I think, and I'm going out on a limb here, but I THINK, that you might have
had to open all of those individually as well.

Yes, I would even go so far as to say that the buttons on these trains are
actually replacing what is commenly called a 'handle'. This is a mechanical
object which one physically engages with to push, or pull, the offending
door out of your way.



But then he says, "I know what you mean, it's not like they're building
space ships or anything!!"



Hold On.



1. Space Ships. Lets just take a moment here to check when we were born. I
think we stop calling them Space Ships when we reach our early teens and
realise that Captain Bucky O'Hare isn't actually the toad kicking hero we
always thought he was and that space travel is so boring in real life
compared to cartoons that we may as well just not bother.



2. I would like to see Mr "Why do I have so many children", build a stable
family environment, much less a train.



3. In what life, in which city, during how many alcohol related fantasys did
this couple actually believe that they had ever been in a situation during
which all the doors they wanted to get through opened automatically. Unless
these people live in a shopping centre, or simply don't have doors, then
thier whole conversation eludes me.



I can't belive that somehow when I get on a train I am considered a nusaince
because I want to listen to music, which nobody else can hear, and yet we
continue to allow thourghbred stump jockeys like these to air thier badly
conceived conversations for the whole carraige to hear. If I had my way (
and my weather changing device is near completion so not long now ) there
would be areas on trains where you were not allowed to talk. You could read,
or listen to music, but benign conversation would be punishable with
enforced depature at Coventry.





To end I would just like to say that it would have been less expensive for
me to drive to Birmingham and pay parking than it was to buy the train
ticket.

Go Go Gadget Government.

Don't stare directly into the site!!!!

Yeah baby, that's right, it's back.

Well sooner or later I had to return. Here it is. It's not perfect, there
are things about it I would love to change but don't have the skill or time
to, it annoys some people, some love it, some see it as a source of
amusement, some of information, it may well change in the future, maybe only
subtly to iron out the rough edges, maybe an overhaul, maybe over time it
will grow on you and the rough edges wont even stand out any more, maybe no
matter how many times you are subjected to it, you will never grow to like
it.

As somewhere on the internet to exist , I can think of no better
representation of myself.

Updates, both for the blog and the articles, will be regular for the next
week as I have loads to say from my time away, and quite a few long bits
that I have already written and just need to sort out.

My faithful few.

Welcome back.

We can but hope.

I was reading this article with wonder and a touch of hope. When search engines get this good it will make my online time so much more enjoyable. No longer will I spend hours over the important things in life such as "Why does my bike keep breaking?" and "When is Dave's birthday?".

This means I can spend more time thinking up completly implausible yet ingeniously tempting money making oppurtunities.

Softback vs Software.

I read a brilliant book called "I am legend" this weekend. It was brilliant, so brilliant in fact, that i'm going to spoil the end for you on the slim chance you go out and read it for yourself. Basically, all the way through the book - and it's only short so no worries there - you think that 'everything will turn out for the best' as is the way in these books. But this one goes, 'sack that' and just turns it all on it's head and the vampires end up 'winning'. Although 'winning' doesn't really fit what they do, 'survive' is more like it. Best of all though is that the main character dies at the end. Not in a crappy Amtrack Wars kind of way, but in a clever, well thought out way. A brilliant read, and it only takes one day.

Here's a thing. If I spend a week reading a book then I am considered somewhat intellectual. It is not considered time wasted. Yet, if I spend a week playing a computer game, this is somehow a puerile way to pass time and seen as a pointless venture. Yet computer games are more fun. You get to actually BE the guy in the story. You have a hand in how it works out in the end. Surely that is more intellectually stimulating than a book. You have to think about your actions and make descioins which have consequences for the future story. A book just takes you by the hand and you have to only read, not think.

Judging by this is could be argued that playing a computer game - and i'm thinking more RPG here than a space shoot em up - could be considered more intellectually demanding, and therefore stimulating, than a computer game.

Now I'm not knocking books here. I like to read. Just saying, the pompus view of computer games 'rotting minds' doesn't hold anymore. Embrace the future people. Play games.