Let's Get It On

Saturday afternoon - 1st October - 28 degrees outside in the burning sunshine, I know, but let's not question it, eh? Decamping to a friend's flat in a couple of hours to meet up with other nutters in order to drink beer, eat takeaway and watch Dr Who...

Thenceforth into town (luckily the flat is actually in the centre of town so this involves, er, going downstairs) where more friends will be met and much more alcohol consumed, no doubt in several establishments... later still, avoiding the numerous grunting semi-evolved hominids intent on violence, we'll make our way to some form of dancing venue, consume still more alcohol and 'dance' for a bit.... I will attempt, probably half-heartedly, to avoid the brain-shredders known as Jagerbombs (ohhh, but they taste so good... and have the effect of class A drugs... not that that has anything to do with it of course. Heh)

One thing which always happens to me around this point in the evening is that I lose the ability to control any kind of basic device, ie mobile phones... there is almost always a point where someone goes awol and the cry goes out "Capt! Call Dave, find out where he is!" and after fumbling incompetantly with my phone for a couple of minutes, calling a couple of people who are asleep miles away, taking a photo of my left leg and a video of my crotch, I have to hand it over to someone else. That's normally when the missing person walks up and says "I was next door, been calling you for the last 10 minutes"

Probably then back to the flat, assuming gravity allows us, where we will talk utter bollocks for a while before making our merry ways homeward into the Sunday dawn. Couple of hours kip and out into the sunshine again (who am I kidding here?) and who knows, a lunchtime pint or three...?

Well, that's the general plan, that's how it usually goes, things don't always happen as hoped though... updates to follow... if my brain still functions...

Cheers!

POST-MATCH REPORT :

Hmmm. After a confusing episode of Dr Who, during which the dog tried to die, the indoor badminton began

Once that and guitar hero was completed (yawn) we shuffled into town, saw some fighting, danced like sweaty fools and the night nosedived into the usual incomprehensible stupidity

Crashing finally occurred around 5am. Apparently we had a good time, but don't ask me, I wasn't there, I know nothing, there was no traffic cone, nobody shouted "CHUTNEY" at a horse and the gerbils will be absolutely fine. Once they find their way out of the trumpet.



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Badge of Evil

In the early 80s badges were big. Big badges. We all wore badges. They acted as proof of identity, confirmation of which particular tribe one belonged to. Mine were worn with pride on jacket lapels, jumpers, coats, even hats. And they were all terrible. I recently found an old bag of badges, and here are a few :

Firstly, the silly badges - specifically worn so that young ladies would approach, peer closely at them (thus getting within sniffing distance) and exclaim "Ha ha ha, brilliant, what an amazing sense of humour you must have, will you sleep with me?" This, of course, never happened.

Then there were the band badges - obviously designed to attract like-minded fans, and young ladies who would check out the badges and exclaim "Wow, you're into -insert band name here- , what a discerning taste in music you must have - fancy a shag?" This never happened either, quite possibly my choice of bands had a fair amount to do with that...

And finally the desperately obscure badges, usually connected to music but consisting of strange symbols culled from album covers or band logos which only the most fervent fans would recognise, thus absolutely guaranteeing that you'd get laid at some point due to the obvious deep thought applied to your badge-wearing... nope, never happened...

I never wore political badges. I didn't know what most of them even meant. It was a simple world I inhabited, and pretty damn sexless. Couldn't understand why at the time, but it's all so clear now...

Ahh, hindsight...

DAMN YOU BADGES!



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Wonderful in Young Life

This autumn heralds something of an anniversary for myself and an old and trusted friend. A 30th anniversary to be exact. A relationship began in autumn 1981 which endures to this day, despite many many changes both good and bad through the years. It's complex yet also very very simple... two like minds which gelled and continue to spark off each other in an oddly combustible way. I'll say no more, but these pictures tell a private little story of the year it all began :

A celebration is occurring, and has been for several months... it's non-specific and so far has involved much merriment and mischief.... with more to come... I fully hope that this particular layer of my life continues to deepen and swell with the richness of a firm friendship for many years to come...



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Don't Look Down

There are people out there - and I know this because I used to be one of them - who don't believe depression actually exists as a clinical condition. The old 'Oh just pull yourself together' brigade... you know who you are...

Well I can tell you for a fact that it bloody DOES exists, and at its worst it is utterly crippling. Having a broken brain is horrendous because it affects every single aspect of your life. I was knocked down by the depression bus several years ago and the bloody thing just kept on reversing over me, again and again. I didn't go out for years. I lived in my own headspace, a dark, cold little place without joy or optimism. It's reasonably easy to pretend to everyone that you're OK, you don't want their opinions or sympathy, so you carry on day-to-day but keep hidden in your burrow as much as possible and feel that your life is crap and that you are worthless and hated.

Anyway, I pulled through it all. Yes, it can be defeated. And for the last 3 years or so I have been myself again, not that strange, angry, nasty little shit I became for several 'lost' years. Suddenly I am loving life again, now with the foreknowledge that a simple chemical imbalance can screw a life up and chuck it in the bin, I take nothing for granted. I've managed to somehow develop a large social circle, with so many different dynamics and levels that it's becoming a full time job just to keep track of all my friends and decide where to go, with who, why and for how long. This is a world which was closed off to me for so long I stopped believing it even existed.

So, to all my current social buddies in the myriad pubs, bars and venues, flats, houses and towns we inhabit I'd like to say 'Fuck knows why you hang out with me, but thanks anyway. Mine's a pint."

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Inane Thought for the Day #2

If we could somehow connect Lowri Turner's jaws to a series of wind turbines the entire country's energy problems would be solved at a stroke...


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Life's Unexpected Delights #4

When you enter a room at work and find a dislikeable, aggressive and generally surly co-worker flapping a dead lobster through the air and making stupid "wak-wak-wak" noises and you realise he is just a silly little tosser after all.


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Inane Thought for the Day #1

Using the analogy of the planet Earth being one single vast living organism ; you know those days when you wake up and you just feel, you know, crappy. Your skin's greasy, your mouth tastes like a cat's arse, various bits ache, your nose is blocked up and last night's curry is straining for release...

I reckon that's probably how Earth feels most days now.

However, it's gonna take more than a good shit and a clean toothbrush to make things better this time...



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Whistlin' Past the Graveyard

Dead of night. Very drunk. Thought I'd pop in and take some pics. This particular graveyard is down an unpaved country lane and surrounded by trees and fields. I was the only living human for quite some distance... I hope...

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Telephone Operator

Having been with the same mobile company for many years now, and actually having found them very reliable, I was quite chuffed to be offered an iPhone 4 for just 50 quid. However, being the luddite I am I absolutely have no need whatsoever for a smartphone. So I took a £25 reduction on my monthly tariff instead.

WINS. As those pesky yougsters might say.



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Forgotten Years

Whilst in the process of clearing out piles of old folders and plastic bags in a neglected room I've come across some ancient gems. Mostly of interest only to myself and immediate family, nonetheless I intend to share a few found items with the blogosphere.

This is (was?) my father cira 1972 - the face of Minster Fuels :

His name wasn't Roy, for some reason 'Les' was not considered the right name for a heating engineer. On the reverse is an advert for 3-piece suites, reduced from £60 to £42. You wouldn't get a bloody 3-piece SUIT for that price now, let alone furniture!

The following picture is definitely an indication of how things change ;

That's my mother and I, Christmas 1966. I am proudly clutching my new golliwog. Guess what, I grew up without becoming racist. Funny that.

Here's me in 1965 :

And here's me half an hour ago :

Which proves, if nothing else, that dogs like me even if humans don't. Also the hair's come full circle.

Finally (for now at least) a family picnic from 1964. At an aerodrome in Hampshire. We weren't fussy. (I say 'we', but as this was taken in the summer I was merely a collection of sexless cells with no identity at this time. Some say I still am.)

I suspect more of this nonsense will follow soon....



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