Damned kids

It's about 9.15 am on Saturday the 31st of July.

I have been up since about 8 am enjoying some "no bugger else about"-time. Just me, my laptop and the dogs (I fed them, ok!).

The kids are meant to be travelling to Surrey today to start their holiday to France, and although they were meant to have caught an early train, Gabriele's alarm has only just gone off and Christopher is still face down and dead to the world in his pit.

Let me start from the beginning on this one so that you all (or both of you) get the right idea and don't jump to conclusions that make me look like a bad guy.

Firstly, Gabriele is 19 and Christopher is 18.  Both think they are old enough to make their own minds up, say and do what they like and come and go when they please. Both of them make a point of being dead on time when they go and see their father (I'm a step-daddy for my sins) but are always an hour or two late or don't show up at all if they are meeting, or doing anything for, us (me and their mum).

Months ago, through one or two mumbled conversations with Christopher (he mumbled, we spoke and eventually shouted because we just couldn't understand him) we discovered that both he and his sister would probably be going to France with their Aunty Disease .... sorry, Louise,  and family.  Over a period of ... ooooooooh ... three months or so, it became a certainty that they would be going to France.

Gabriele, who had done everything she could think of NOT to find a summer job, eventually found one, which was just as well because she'd spent everything on her bank account (and a bit more) on her mobile phone and going out with her friends.

Christopher had been working off and on for his father and had been paid a vastly over the odds salary for his services.  He had also been given a car by his father (to which his father holds all the documents, etc..) putting Christopher into a position whereby saying "No" was no longer an option.  Anyway, my point is he had money, but he was spending it like water and could never remember what he he'd spent it on (so he said).  £35 was spent in Ikea using his debit card but he has no idea what on!
He has just come back from marching in Holland and plans to go to Italy for adventure training when he returns from France. It's all go in his life and he is almost as broke as his sister!

Ok.  With me so far?

On Thursday Gabriele went out (still unpacked for holidays at this time) to a friend's house and although she was asked to return by 11pm, crawled in nearer to 1 am.  Strangely enough on Friday she was too ill to go to work and stayed in bed all day.  Christopher stayed home and packed for France after saying he was going to work for his father.

By 10 pm on Friday Christopher was packed and Gabriele was just starting.  By 10.30  pm Christopher was watching T.V. in his room and Gabriele was on her way out to see a friend.  God knows when she came in again.

They both wanted to be in Farnham, Surrey by midday today so we told both of them to set their alarms and to make sure they get up in the morning.

Did I already say Christopher is still face down in his pit?  It's now 10 am.

As for Gabriele, her alarm did go off at 9.15 am, but it was immediately switched off. She has creaky floorboards in her room and so far there hasn't been a single creak heard .

Why haven't I woken them up?  Because dear reader(s)  ... in a heated debate about money, in which their mum and I tried to convince them not to live outside their means, we were very forcefully informed that they want to "learn by their own mistakes".

So ... good luck to the little buggers!

Stolen old joke

A man takes his Great Dane to the vet and says, 
"My dog's cross-eyed, is there anything you can do for him?" 
"Well," says the vet, "let's have a look at him." 
So he picks the dog up and examines his eyes, then checks his teeth. 
Finally, he says "I'm going to have to put him down." 
"What? Because he's cross-eyed?" 







"No, because he's really heavy."




Stolen from
http://greatdanefun.aimoo.com/

Jealous? Not me!

I read Jamie's blog from time to time and she really is quite good at blogging. She writes some funny stuff about her every day life which might tickle your fancy.

Mind you, having said that, the sickly, fawning, A-HO-licking comments from her "followers" really wind me up.
Ok, so she's good at what she does and not ALL the people who post comments are that sickly-sweet with their remarks,  but the ones that are get right up my nose!

Not that they are all THAT sickly-sweet, but you know what I mean ... it's a definition thing, isn't it?

I define "I loved your article today!" as excessively sickly-sweet ...






... although if it happened to me once or twice, maybe I could change my way of thinking.

NO!  I am not in the least bit jealous of her following in any way. Not in the slightest ...


The *&%$££$!!!!!

Cat Kicker

If I was the cat-kicking type, my cat would still be flying north with my shoe wedged up her arse!

After a little windfall in the form of a tax refund from that nice man at the Inland Revenue my car decided to play up again.

The engine is misfiring and it's used a litre of oil in three days.  There is no obvious leek to be found.  The best case scenario is that they have to replace the piston scraper, which won't be as expensive as the worst case scenario, which would be an engine re-build.

When they told me this there was a pursing lips, an intake of breath, a glance at the floor and a long drawn out  "Ooooooooooooooooooo!" before the mentioned that that would cost about £1500.

As I walked home from the workshop images of the guy behind the service desk rubbing his hands as he already counted the money I was going to have to cough up.

It never rains, but it pours!  I want to scream, kick something and wring someone's neck, all of which won't help, but will, just for a  moment, take my mind off my car problems and the impending damage to me already weak financial affairs.

The trouble is that without a car, I can't get from A to B in order to do my job.  A company car is out of the question because I don't even know if we still have one.  Asking  my clients to come to me is out of the question.

I know one solution to my problem, but it's a solution millions of others are hoping for too, so I'll not put too much hope in a big win on the lotto.

You know, it doesn't matter what I write about, I always try and inject a little humour into it.  Today, however, as I re-read the above, I couldn't detect anything funny or even mildly amusing.  I'm sure I tried, but I don't think it worked.

Oh God!  I'm sooooooooooooooooooo fed up!

Unloved

Undesirable is my middle name

Unwanted is my first.

I have a surname that rhymes with hat,

so I'm well and truly cursed.

No one seems to want to know,

just who I really am.

But I'm not a nasty piece of work,

I'm as gentle as a lamb.

But I can be harsh,

sometimes I'm cruel.

But only to those idiots,

who think that I'm a fool.

I speak my mind, 

I say what I think.

And I can drop myself in it,

quicker than you can blink.

But at the end of the day,

I'm really not that bad.

Shame no one believes me,

that really makes me sad.

So forgive my indiscretions,

and give me a little break.

Even a scrap of friendship,

I perfectly willing to take.

Take a chance,

try and trust me

because when all is said and done,

all alone is no place to be.

Open reply to an email

Two months ago I received an email from someone who I won't name.

This person pointed out very politely that they were disappointed to have learned that I employ cruel and inhumane methods a la Cesar Milan in order to train my dogs. I assume that they were referring to to my post on the "the other place" (henceforth "TOP") forum which was critical of some of the evidence produced by various people and organisations claiming his methods were cruel.

At the time I dismissed the email as I had already explained my position on this subject on a number of occasions and deleted it without a second thought. I no longer have their email address, hence this belated "open" reply.  However, the thought that someone out there may think that I am cruel to my dogs and treat them badly has smouldered in my mind for ages and, for the last time and for some peace of mind, some clarification may be needed.  If my peace of mind is all that is achieved, then so be it.

1. I have never employed the methods of Mr. Milan in the training of my dogs, just treats and patience.
2. My dogs love cheddar cheese, beef jerky strips, doggy chocolate drops and would jump through hoops, learn to fly and even prepare an evening meal for four just for one of those tasty treats.
3. Two of my dogs are rescue dogs that have received some horrible treatment in their lives but are now very settled and happy with us.
4. I reserve the right to form my own opinions and not just blindly follow those of others
5. I cannot be held responsible for other peoples lack of attention whilst reading my articles.  
6. I reserve the right to think other people talk tosh (even if they may be right).
7. My views whilst a member of the "TOP" forum were clearly marked as not being those of the charity or any member of it.

I am not and have never been an advocate of ANY animal trainer (with the exception of the great lady herself,  Barbara Woodhouse [and I don't care what you all think of her. She was brill!]).

I am and always have been an animal lover and our dogs are members of our family and are very well cared for.

To be honest with you all (or both, as the case may be), after typing all of the above, I don't care what anyone may think.  I know that I treat my dogs very well and so do they!

There you go!

I feel better already.   

I now consider this matter dealt with, explained and now ended.  

Sense of Humour in Cardiff?

Seen on the T-shirt of a very well fed young lady in Cardiff this morning:

I'm not FAT!!!

Barbie

is

Anorexic

well I thought it was funny!

BP and WMD

American senators and journalists seem to have generated a lot of anti-British feelings with their criticism of BP with regards to the environmental disaster caused by the BP rig explosion and for the alleged lobbying on behalf of the Lockerbie bomber Abdelbaset Al Megrahi in return for oil rights. 


They may well be correct in both cases ... I don't know.


I can't help wondering though; what would have happened if they had been just half as passionate and determined in trying to put George W. Bush and Tony Blair onto the "naughty step" for their lie-based (WMD) invasion of Iraq?


They caused God knows how many thousands of deaths, destroyed the country's infrastructure and brought it's economy (what the hell? It wasn't that great anyway) crashing to the ground and yet they found no nasty weapons that would have melted us all in our beds.  


It was all because Saddam Hussein wouldn't play ball and do as he was told ... oh, and probably for oil too!


Saddam paid the ultimate price by going to the highest "naughty step" of all for the atrocities he was responsible for.


BP boss Tony Hayward, who on the whole has handled the actual oil-spill clean-up quite well, has had a disastrous couple of months as far a his PR goes.  He has been accused of either putting his foot in his mouth whenever it opens (agreed) or of engaging in inappropriate activities when he should "doing something" about the spill.  


Whereas GW Bush and Tony Blair probably had a host of minions lined up ready to carry the can for the WMD scam, Mr.Hayward is being hung out to dry because of a political / journalistic witch hunt.  I doubt whether any American run inquiry will turn up anything other than BP is GUILTY!!! 


If I was a cynical person, I would say the the senator's must be up for  re-election, the journalist's reader / viewer figures were down and those people who directly suffered the effects of the oil slick are already counting their six or seven figure compensation.  


But I'm not ... so I won't say that.


This isn't meant as a political or anti-American rant ... It's an anti-senator / anti-journalist rant so don't get on your high horses and give me your opinions.


*****


Just found out those senators ARE up for re-election in at the end of the year, so that explains their "resolve" and anti-BP rhetoric.

*****

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

What a day I've had!

And I can't tell  you anything about it 'cos it's confidential!

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

my "comeuppance"

Whilst reading someone else's blog some days back, I posted this comment

I can only hope his willy is as big as your ego or your wedding night would have been somewhat of a let down.

Congratulations on finally doing the deed ... marrying, that is!

She is, I believe, an English teacher and writes ... sorry ... 'blogs' to the world from HERE.

She writes some fairly good stuff that is worth a read even though her talented writings may not seem to be your cup of tea. My comment (above) on the news that she had at last married and was intended as humorous (and as the proverbial cat among the pigeons) to stir up comment.  Little did I realise that my semi-innocent comment would provoke as much of a response as it did, both from the lady herself and her following, which appears to be quite big .... er, her following, not the lady herself!.

If you would like to see how I received my "comeuppance" click below

Jamie Jenson addressing the "EGO" thing

and read the post and following comments.

Have fun! 

To Julie Ann's Mum

Cheer up woman,

it ain't so bad.

Can't be worse than

the op that I had.

They took out my liver

and then my spleen.

Gave 'em a polish

and put 'em back clean.

They rummaged about

inside my chest,

but couldn't decide

which lung was best.

They whipped everything out

and then stuffed 'em back in.

Now I've got my bollocks

just under my chin.

So get yourself back on the mend

and be of good cheer.

I'll send Julie around later

with some whiskey and beer!

Age or Geography

When do ´boobs´ become a ´ bosom´?

This question was touched upon be Terry Pratchett in "Monstrous Regiment", but I don't think he ever reached a satisfactory conclusion ... If he did, then I must have missed it.

Although technically and by definition, a bosom is always present, the term is never used by the younger generations.  Have you ever heard some young bloke say "Look at the bosom on her!" or any girls saying "My bosom is bigger that hers!"?  No!  So when does a bosom become a bosom?

My own thoughts on this subject, as a connoisseur, are that it very much depends on the boobs/bosom in question and the method of support they receive, or not, as the case may be.
The 'bosom' could be effectively fought off for many years with the correct fitting bra, as Gok Wan has pointed out on many occasion's, but as he has pointed out, only 1 in 10 women are correctly fitted for bra's.. 

As they get older most woman of brobdingnagian proportions will suffer from the breast version Tectonic drift, so the question of when boobs become a bosom could, I suppose, be answered by measuring the distance between nipple and belt buckle ... this would certainly explain why so many older women these days are wearing hipsters!
However, it may not be a simple case of simple geography that defines a bosom.  It may only be a 'mind' thing where the mind-set changes your attitudes and opinions at a certain age or condition.

I am not in the least bit prejudiced against gravitationally challenged women, indeed men (I am one) could be described as "gravitationally disadvantaged campanologists" in later years as it is a well known fact that their 'bells' hang lower than their 'rope' with age.  

No! What I would like to know is how do women know when it's time to change their terminology?

This is a tricky one to answer as there are bound to be a multitude of different views and opinions, but it might get you thinking about when and how we all change with age.

Here is a nice thought to finish with:-

People quite often say that they sound like their parents. If that is true, one day they will sound like their grandparents too!

For Bernard

Far away,

yet still in my heart.

Safe over the Bridge,

yet we are so far apart.

I dream,

I still see your face.

And I remember,

how you loved to race.

Sweet memories,

will always be mine.

To me,

you will always shine!

God speed,

dear friend.

We will never let

your story end!

Chocolate Cake

Chocolate cake, chocolate cake,

such a delightful yummy taste.

But what about the pounds,

that you left on my waist?

It looked so good,

I thought I'd try just a bit.

Imagine my surprise,

when I ate ALL of it!

Now I carry so much blubber,

and I wobble when I walk.

And my chins keep on bouncing,

all the time when I talk.

I have to turn to the side,

to go through a door.

And none of my clothes,

are going to fit any more!

My tum is so big ,

and I feel like a ball.

My feet are down there,

but I can't see them at all!

So here I am,

so grossly overweight.

And all because

I had too much on my plate!

Needy pups

We are Four Paws,

and we need your backing,

to give stray dogs,

the care they are lacking.

Please read on,

and see if you can assist,

with some of the things,

below in this list.

Could you spare some pennies,

or maybe a pound?

to help us save,

some desparate hound.

Could you foster a dog,

so he'll no longer roam?

could you give it hope,

until we find him a home?

Could you help us to run

a collection or stall,

at your village fete,

or community hall?

Could you open your heart,

to a dog in need,

and give him a home,

as your good deed?

However you help,

whether it be simple or grand,

you'll be lending some pups,

a much needed hand!

Four Paws Animal Rescue (s. Wales)

Toothpaste ads on TV

Don't they just pee you  right off?

"To see just how good our stuff is, just smear it onto the sensitive tooth and drink this ice-cold water eat this ice-cream" they say.

O.K!  All you are doing is 'plugging' the hole in your tooth for a second or two!  The toothpaste isn't actually stopping your tooth from being sensitive to hot or cold drinks in any way other than as a plug!

You could to the same thing with crab paste / meat paste / putty!

I hate those kinds of ads 'cos they really do rely on the gullibility of the public in order for them to sell their product.

I'm not saying that constant use doesn't help make your teeth less sensitive (don't want a law suit, do we?).  I'm just saying that the method they use on T.V. to demonstrate them is a complete and utter sham that can be done with any amount of 'hole-filling' products.

I'm sorry to have taken up your valuable time with this minor rant, but I do feel better for getting it of my chest and sharing it with you all.

May the Lord take pity on your choppers and prevent the need for such products ... or putty!

 

To Quiz or not to Quiz?

I have been taking part in this months quiz thingy that was started for members of the "other place's" forum to have a bit of competitive fun.  I haven't done it since ... ooooo! ... since about March of this year, as the questions were becoming too repetitive and in certain sections I found myself able to answer the question just by looking at the answers and clicking the right one. In most cases I never even read a word of the question in order to know the answer.


This repetitiveness made it easy (at times) to whiz through all ten questions in as little as 30-35 seconds which was considered highly suspicious by some of the other quizzers.  My next-door neighbour was convinced I was using a 'auto-fill' programme to answer the questions for me.
This was not an idea that I discouraged ... in fact, I may even have planted the seed of that thought myself.
It is however untrue.


In truth, I'm just a pretty brainy sort of  modest genius.


However, this time around I have deliberately missed three days of quizzing.  I intend to prove that I can still hold my own ("his own what?" I hear you cry) against the likes of  INDYDOG, Turtlebum, Will and DextersMum.


In today's quiz INDYDOG has just scored a creditable 9/10 in 60 seconds, bumping DextersMum (the one to watch) into second place with 8/10 in 62 seconds.  The topic by the way is "General Knowledge 4 : Harder" which is, at times, a major problem to most players especially when they ask questions based on obscure American TV shows or celebrity's.


Anyway, the reason for this post is purely to wish everyone luck and to assure you all that "the best man" will win!  


Down, Ego!  Down!

My boy and his ball

I am beginning to realise that my boy Sym has a closer relationship with his ball than he does with me.

If his ball goes into the long grass or bushes on a walk he will spend ages looking for it, but if I hide from him he tends to wait until Clover and Sox locate me first before he comes for a look.

The good thing about him searching for his ball (and nearly always finding it) is that it saves me money on tennis balls!  On the negative side, when it's raining, he won't leave until he has found it or is dragged away.

I have noticed though that when another dog is near, he will forget his ball all together and leave it somewhere out of sight in order to go and sniff around the other dog.  Then, when 'sniffs' have been exchanged, get back into a "throw the ball for me" position totally forgetting that the ball is still where he dumped it .... and he nearly always dumps it in long grass.

This mornings early walk was no different.  When we met a group of four women and their pooches, he dropped his ball and went to exchange pleasantries.  Sniffing over, I called him back to where he'd last had his ball and told him to find it.  He sniffed and snorted through the grass for about five minutes, unearthing not one, not two, but three tennis balls before turning to me in triumph with a fourth (his own) ball stuck in his mouth.  Now that deserved a bit of cheese and he knew it!

I know lots of people have dogs that are clever and do all sorts of tricks but I think my boy Sym, although he doesn't do all the doggy-dancing or party trick stuff, is pretty smart too.

"throw the ball for me"

Holland 0 Spain 1 (AET)

What a poor game!  I wasn't expecting a classic, but last nights attempt at football between bouts of martial art-style tackles was abysmal.

I did notice however, that the Spanish seem to have brought in a couple of actors to cope with some of the more dramatic acting.

There was Robert Downey Jr.

(Xavi)      

And that bin man from Corrie

                                                 (Gerard Piqué)

There you go!  That should be clearer for you.

World Cup, the Sweepstake and the Paranoid dribbler

I am sooooooooooo not looking forward to today's World Cup Final!  I don't want either team to win it but, as one of the has to, I hope it will be Holland.  The Spanish though, will probably pull the wool over the ref's eyes and "swan-dive" their way to a win.


I can't complain really though because one of my teams in "the other place" sweepstake came third by beating Uruguay last night, so I am now looking forward to a £10 windfall.


I am no longer a member of the "other place's" forum (  I left due to the abuse of powers and intolerant nature of the moderator ) and it only remains to be seen whether or not they will pay up.   It wouldn't surprise me in the least if they came up with a reason not to do so.


It is really a great shame that I no longer play a part in the banter on their Forum, but I believe that as long as there is no direct abuse being directed specifically at an individual, or at the charity as a whole, that the moderators should keep a low profile and not interfere. They certainly shouldn't use their powers to invade a locked thread, which was clearly marked as NOT reflecting the policies of the charity or anyone, and aggressively try and impose their opinions onto someone else.  See the following article to find out what I'm going on about;  http://symdaddy.blogspot.com/2010/04/trouble-maker.html


A forum is, after all, a meeting or assembly for the open discussion of subjects of public interest, not a moderator's playground. 


The reason why I mention this is that in recent days when out walking the dogs I have met one or two ladies who foster dogs for "the other place" and whereas they used to say at least 'hello', they now change direction and walk the other way.  Maybe I'm becoming just a little bit paranoid or perhaps my deodorant is letting me down severely ... surely they can't be avoiding me!  Could they?

The Rothbury Operation

This is the woman in charge of the massive police operation in the Rothbury area of Northumberland.

And this is her in her acting days.

(On the police press conferences, Sue Sim [1st piccy] really, really does have a very similar hair style to the Wallace & Grommet character Lady Campanula Tottington [2nd piccy]). 

Olivia

Take my love with you
  as you start on upon your way.
Wait for me on the other side,
  for I will join you there one day.
Take heart in your new surroundings,
  and play with new friends and old.
But don't be sad without me,
  be brave, be dashing, be bold.
Enjoy the golden splendour,
  and stretch your beautiful claws.
You'll never be alone now,
  because paradise is yours.

Germany 0 Spain 1

Bum! Bum! Bum! Bugger, bugger, bugger!!!

BUM!

Sweepstake

The 'other place'* is running a World Cup sweepstake.

With the second semi-final to be played tonight, that leaves only three teams that could win the coveted trophy.

 Germany (Symdaddy [me])

 Spain (Dilly)


 Netherlands (Maggieann)


There appear to have been no further updates on the 'other places' sweepstakes thread as the team of the person that started it all has long since gone home.


Tonight two of the best teams face each to decide who will face Holland in the final.


My tip has always been for Germany (14/1) as for some unknown reason the German national team always has that 'tournament' attitude even when their team is not the strongest or most talented. 
Spain (9/2), on the other hand, have a team full of talent but have not really let their dominance of games translate into the rout's that were predicted.


It will be a close call tonight, but I will be waving the German flag in one hand and eating a bratwurst with the other, hoping for another German demolition job on the Spanish.








*the place they don't want me to mention

Mouse pad

My desktop PC has a wonderful "Cohan the Barbarian and the Silver Horde" mouse pad sitting on the desk next to the keyboard.

This laptop has a built in mouse pad thingy that I can't get to grips with so I plugged a USB mouse in instead.
I don't have a regular mouse pad for the laptop. Instead I use "Verbrechen an der Wehrmacht, Kriegsgreuel der Roeten Armee 1941/42"*, a rather thick book by Prof. Dr. Franz W. Seildler.

It's a very unusual mouse pad, but an interesting read.




* Crimes against the German Army, War Atrocities of the Red Army 1941/42

Oh my poor back!

I am not very often ill, I have never broken a bone and I have never been mentally incapacitated (although some would argue against that point).  I have been lucky, I guess, in that I have never suffered as others have suffered.

In my life there have been no major medical problems to report; I once had the grisly bit on the end of my nose nearly ripped off at school playing rugby (for the last time); I have had my appendix out when I was in my 40's; I have had pneumonia; I had the fingers of my left hand dislocated (popped 'em back in myself ... ouch!)by a friendly kick; I had both legs (thighs downwards) scalded by the contents of a kettle (hence the almost hairless less on an otherwise hairy body ... 'cept for my head, which wasn't scalded).

Apart from those minor injuries / ailments, I can only report the usual catalogue of childhood maladies such as german measles, chicken-pox, mumps and dontwannagotoschoolitis.

However, over the past three years or so I have been somewhat unfortunate to have acquired a dodgy back.
It's the same back that I grew up with and fully trusted throughout my formative and early adult years, but it seems now to have developed an attitude problem.

I say 'attitude problem' purely because it complains now constantly about everything I do.

I walk the dogs ... back ache!
I mow he lawn ... back ache!
I do the shopping ... back ache!

I have always been aware that in my later years that things would probably become more difficult for me and that simple things such as tying my shoelaces could end up as a chore for someone else and not for me, but I am only 51 years old and it's already beginning!

Yesterday I was on an overnight call.  I had to spend the night with a client as he requires 24 hour support.
All was well when he went to bed at a little after 10 pm so I made sure everything was locked up or switched off then I settled myself down to a packet of crisps (cheese & onion if you are interested) and my book (Thud! by T. Pratchett).  At about 11.15 pm, as I had to be up early, I decided to call it a night and went to bed.

As always, I was ripped from my slumbers at 05.10 am when my client turned on his radio and began singing along with the hit's of yesteryear.  Instead of swinging into action (putting a pillow over my head), I screamed in agony as pain shot up my back.  Ok, so I didn't actually scream!  I'm no wimp and can handle pain ... just ask my dentist how much he saves on Novocain ... but I did make a squeaky sort of 'eark' sound and that isn't wimpy, is it?

Anyway, the upshot is that during the night (God knows what I'd been doing) I put my back out as I slept!
I had to roll carefully out of bed and slowly raise myself to my feet with a very straight back. Getting dressed took me nearly half an hour and brought me out in a cold sweat. Luckily my relief came in early and I very gingerly took myself off home, where I now ponder the agonies that lie ahead.
As I type this, I am still in pain but awaiting some modicum of relief from the pain killers I washed down with my coffee only moments ago.

This is not the first time that my back has, if you'll pardon the phrase, stabbed me in the back!  Once, I picked up an empty shoe box and my back inexplicably locked, leaving me bent double for almost an hour (it's quite a shameful position to be stuck in, I can assure you).  Another time, after a round of golf, I was sitting at the bar in the clubhouse and as I turned to face someone there was an audible 'click' and I was stuck for several minutes, much to everyone's amusement, in a half turn.

There have been countless other incidents over that past three or so years, some more painful and debilitating than others.  If I were to detail all of them I would be typing for a very long time (that is if I could even remember them all).

In conclusion I would like to say that, to be fair, I have had a pretty active life (sport, Army, etc..) so that I have probably put more than the average amount of pressure and stress on my creaking skeleton.  If you, dear reader, lead or have led a more sedentary life than I have, then I wish you pain free back for many years to come.

Look after it because when they hurt they hurt big!

Writing stuff

There appears to be a slump in readership of my blog.  I reckon I'll never be famous now!

But, as I write whatever comes into my mind (whenever my two brain cells collide) for my own benefit (mostly), it doesn't really matter.  I write basically for my own amusement, although the egocentric side of me does get a kick when the numbers of my hit-counter get racked up.

I like words and, although I'm no writer,  I like to put them through the hoop occasionally.  I know I'm no Shakespeare or Douglas Adams but I do like to tickle the keyboard just to see what appears.  It's never exciting, is rarely funny and is sometimes just a long-winded moan, but it's mine ...all mine!

Words can be wonderful and powerful things.  They can shape and mould the world around you (for as long as you read them);  be your worst critic or your most ardent supporter; have a tendency to bite you in the bum when you slap them onto paper without checking exactly what it is you've written.  I have been bitten on a number of occasions.

Unfortunately, the art of writing does not flow though my veins and my skills are limited, but every now and again I surprise myself by turning out a poem that can actually put a smile on someone's face or bring tears to their eyes.  It happens vary rarely, but when it does, It's a nice feeling.

My pet hate, which I have also fallen victim to, is the misspelled  word.

Spell checkers are great, aren't they! 

Teenagers

How do you prove to a teenager the importance of good time keeping when you are working or have appointments?
How do you convince a teenager that money doesn't grow on trees and you have to be careful with what you earn?

Well, in our house ... you don't!  Whatever we say, they both have a smart-arse answer and think they have everything under control ... even when one of 'em only has £4 in the bank and they are going to France for a couple of weeks holiday at the end of the month.

I have serious concerns that they will both (once they have left home) end up over their heads in debt because they get credit cards or take out loans.  So far at 18 & 19 years old they have displayed no signs of taking any kind of responsibility for their future financial security. 

So far, every time we speak to them and explain something, within a short time it's totally undermined by the actions of their father (I'm only a 'step-dad') who throws money at them willy-nilly.

Other folks out there may have the solution.  I sure as hell don't!

The daily grind ...

... is getting to me!  Day in, day out I'm up at 6 am then I race around the Cardiff area trying to get to my clients in time.  Traffic is fine at 6.45 am and I can manage the first two without a hitch, but after about 7.30 am it becomes a horror on wheels!  I just want to give all those people who are trying to get to work when I ALREADY am working a bloody great slap and send them home.

OK, so I know it's the same for everyone and it's a similar problem in almost every other town or city at that time in the morning, but hey ... I'm important!!!

Sorry for shouting ... it's just that I have to go out again in a few minutes and I just know all those learner drivers are going to be out there stalling their cars in front of me time and time again.

Buses*?  Don't talk to me about buses!  I have to drive down Sloper Rd., past the bus station and every morning the bus drivers block the road to let their colleagues get their charabanc's out, leaving me (don't care about anyone else) stuck behind a convoy of them.

Oh!  And if that's not already enough to make me pull my few remaining hairs out, the office want me to do an extra call this evening in Aberdare!!!  I won't get home until after 9 pm!

Where is the justice?

* Buses;  quite often misspelled as "Busses".  I am sure that my reader will be aware that busses refers to those of the electrical (computer) kind (as in Universal Serial Bus or USB) and not the wheeled, passenger carrying  variety.  

Mind you, the yanks spell everything wrong, so maybe it's correct for them.

Handsome boy!

This is a worms eye view of my boy Sym

Like most dog owners, I think my pup is the handsomest thing on four legs. Unlike most dog owners, I am telling the truth!

Forget all those ankle-biting JRT's, Labs, etc.. For me, there can be only one! MINE!!!

'couse, he's closely followed in the good-looking-doggy-stakes by Sox and Clover.