Ribbed

OK, so it's been a while.

I lost interest, if truth be told. The motivation ... or sporadic genius if you prefer ... up'd and left.

I put my energy, such as it is, into work and home, although after work there was precious little left for home.

I'm writing now as a form of therapy and in an attempt to cast off the blanket of apathy which has smothered me for far too long.

And to tell you about my pain!

Oh, the pain!

I worked through the pain for a whole week before tearfully dragging myself to a doctor ... and after my wife threatened to cut my todger off if I didn't.

It began with a plastic dog bed.

As I carried it to my car (to take to the local dog charity) there was popping sensation in my ribs on the left side.

I'm pretty dammed sure I heard it pop too!

Needless to say that the dog bed landed on the ground, closely followed by a groaning and rapidly crumpling yours truly.

The pain, although short lived, was tremendous! It quite literally took my breath away.

Anyway, it went away and I was left with only an ache under and around my ribs.

However, as the week progressed the pain increased and I soon found myself unable to walk, sit, stand, drive, laugh, cough or fart without discomfort.

Stupidly I soldiered on, going from call to call grunting and groaning my way through each one, much to the concern of my clients ... except for one chap who thought it was hilarious that someone was in more pain than he was.

So, threatened by my wife, I took myself off to the doctor.

It seems that my floating rib on the left side has decided to change places with the rib above it. For some reason they crossed causing some tissue and muscle damage.

Hence the pain.

I've been off work and on heavy duty painkillers for three days now and I'm so [insert expletive] bored!

The pain is still severe and my floating rib is continuing it's 'day trips' up my rib cage, so you can imagine just how comfortable I am right now.

I will willingly accept even the merest scraps of sympathy from anyone reading this ... any young ladies wishing to pop around and give me their sympathy in person shouldn't hesitate to do so. In my condition, they can be absolutely sure of their safety.

Mores the pity!

Thingy

Sometimes your mind just goes ... thingy ... whatd'yam'callit ... blank.

Sometimes you just don't give a ...

I had a phase ... long working hours (bout 70 hours a week), death of a close friend ... where I honestly just couldn't give a ... comes out yet bottom, stinky and messy ... you know!

I'm picking myself up, slowly but surely, and starting to face up to the reality that an unwritten blog is never read.

So ... brave soul that I am ... I'm back!

Be patient with me though because I'm a little rusty.

OK ... So when I'm out and about I see things. And yesterday was no exception.

As I escorted a client to the cafe for the artery hardening meal of his choice, we passed ... and ogled ... a gaggle of spherically challenged ladies, all of whom were armed to the teeth with fat dribbling burgers.

Immediately something I shared on Facebook came to mind ...

   Thin women think they are chubby.
   Chubby women think they're fat.
   Fat women think they've got to wear leggings!

Yes! They were all crammed into black leggings that were smaller than their bulk required, thus displaying to all and sundry the colour ... and on one or two, the design ... of their pants!

With seams screaming for mercy, they waddled their way through Canton (a district of Cardiff) to equal measures of delight and disgust from other pedestrians.

I am assured by friends and colleagues that this is a world wide phenomena. Leggings, like hamburgers and fries, are attracted to fat people!

By the way ... did I mention that I list 24 pounds in weight?

The picture was taken when I was out terrorising the general public

Make The Most Of This One! I'll Be Off Soon.

It's raining!

Less than a month ago I was in 'gloat mode'.

I delighted in making fun of all those lesser mortals who were less blessed by the weather that I was and took immense pleasure from informing them, in detail (and with pictures), of the kind of weather I was romping in.

Now it's raining!

Or, perhaps I should say, it's still raining.

And it's getting cold again.

It really puts a dampener (excuse the pun) on getting to work on some serious blogging ... not that I would ever disappoint my faithful readers by getting 'serious' (please understand, it's not that kind of relationship! I know you all love me, but ...).

It has to be said that the bad weather does, in fact, bring me down.

Not that far down that I couldn't take pleasure at the sight of someone trying to walk through an unseen glass door, but still pretty far 'down'.  

And with my up-coming work schedule ... well, all I can say is "What a bummer"!

Therefore, as my brain is barely managing to tick over in neutral, I thought I would steal something from elsewhere.  I couldn't find anything that really tickled my fancy, or would even be worthy of attempting to tickle yours so, in a last desperate effort to please, I find myself having to resort to old joke.

Enjoy!

Camilla & Charles

Camilla had bought a new pair for the day of her wedding. They tightened as the day went on. That night, after the Royal Knees-up was over, she and Charles nipped off to their room. Camilla threw herself onto the bed and said 'Could one please remove one's shoes darling! One's feet are killing one'.

Charles obliged but the shoe wouldn't budge.

'Harder!' yelled Camilla.

'Harder?' Charles screamed back. 'I'm trying darling! But it's just so damned tight!'

'Come on!' she cried. 'Give it all you've got' 

Finally when it eventually came off and Charles let out a big moan.  Camilla cried, 'Oh God, that feels so good!'

In the bedroom next door, the Queen turned to Prince Philip and said, 'See, I told you she would still be a virgin with a face like that'.

Back in the other bedroom, Charles was attempting to remove the other shoe when he cried out, 'Oh God, darling, this one's even tighter'.

At which point Prince Phillip turned and said to the Queen: 'That's my boy; once a navy man, always a navy man!'

Sadly, It's A Re-Post!

Once again I find myself inundated with work and too tired after hard day's work to spend any time behind the keyboard.  I will be back a.s.a.p., but in the meanwhile, here is a re-post which somehow explains just how I feel after a hard day's bottom-wiping.

Failure to Fire

I consider myself to be a blogger with a degree of style,  if not always good taste.


I also like to think of myself as being capable of some pretty slick and smooth writing that, whilst sometimes bending the rules of grammar to breaking point, delivers some worthwhile entertainment. 


It does not come easy to me however.  I have to trawl though area's of my mind that I very sensibly vacated many years ago in order to obtain some of the material that ends up as a blog article.  I dodge, as neatly as possible, the somewhat darker memories and attempt to document only the lighter side of what it is like to be me!


Others can sit themselves in front of their laptops/PCs and effortlessly fire-up their neurons in such a way as to deliver sophisticated and, in most cases, humorous anecdotes directly onto their blogs without so much as a second thought.


I,  on the other hand, have to tweak and re-tweak before I consider an article ready for posting.  Some, after a considerable 'construction' phase, never see the light of day. 


Today is another one of those days where, although there are a number of things I would like to tell the world about, my neurons failed to 'burn' and the 'construction' idea's that I had for my article, have vanished in their entirety.


The one thought that remains, but which I hadn't planned to write about is ...

• Minnesota comes from a Sioux Indian word meaning "sky-tinted water", or "water that reflects the sky."

It has nothing whatsoever to do with a very small, fizzy drink!


I knew that!

Spelling Bee

How many times have you met a 'real leader'?

By 'leader', I mean one of those inspirational people that believes a good pep-talk should always include that old chestnut "We have to pull together! There is no 'I' in 'Team'".

That comment has often been scooped up by my log-holes and allowed to rattle around my head for a short while before being dismissed as a load of nonsense.

Little did I realise as I set off for work early yesterday morning, that that comment would once again be aimed in my direction.

I had already completed two calls and had just arrived to carry out the third when bumped into my boss.
The short conversation we had as we crossed paths included several referrals to the 'good work' and 'team spirit' that we (carers) had shown over the Christmas period.

Then it came.

"We all have to work together; make a concentrated effort to get everything right for the client. There is no 'I' in 'Team' so we all have to muck in".

I was tired and it was too early for a spelling competition but I was so tempted to remind my boss that there is no 'F' in 'Chance'!

There is no guarantee that it would have been understood though.

Happy New Year!

When you are all counting down the hours, minutes, then finally the seconds as you await the death of 2011 and the birth of 2012, think of me!

As the alcohol trickle becomes a torrent; as the jovial party mood turns to gut-spewing, raucous and arrest-warranting behaviour; as the globe spins and each time-zone belches out good wishes for the future; as fireworks  around the world scare the shit out of everyone's cats and dogs ...

... I will be working!!!

Well, actually, I will be in bed ...if I'm lucky.

If I'm unlucky, I will be dealing with tantrums of a client who just can't understand what all the fuss is about.

The 'unlucky' scenario is the more likely of the two.

Anyway,

Happy New Year!

My next post will be in 2012.  I hope you can survive the year without me!

And The World Turns

So, as the title says, the World turns.

And the bad things just keep on coming.

I have never been what you might call 'well off'.  Money and I do not make good bed fellows!
As soon as it comes, the World contrives to make it go away again.

Take, for instance, my car ... someone, please take it!!!

Last week not one ... not two ... but ALL FOUR spark plugs decided to foul up causing my car to complain bitterly and roll to a stop uttering phutt-phutt noises, which I am sure is car-speak for "Not another inch you bastard"!  OK, so it was fixable, but it cost me quite a bit of money.

Some weeks prior, for some inexplicable reason, most of my clients decided to cancel their calls for a two week period. This left me with a mere 19 hours a week of work. As I am paid by the hour, you can guess how much that dented my wallet.


On Saturday the glass fell out of the right-hand wing mirror of my car.  No, it didn't break! I managed to catch it! NO mean feat when you are travelling at 70 MPH.  With the aid of some (fortunately) handy sticky tape, I was able to secure it again.

That same day, I learned just how deceitful my fellow man could be.  I picked up a client who I was to take to a rugby match (Pontypridd vs Bedwas).  When I arrived on the car park opposite the stadium, I made for the ticket machine (so I could park legally) and was told by a number of people that parking on match days was free.  So, like and idiot, I believed them only to return to my car after the match and find a £50 parking fine stuck to my windscreen.

Bummer, right?

But the hammer came when the vet confirmed that my boy Sym's cancer has returned.

Yes, the World just keeps on turning ... and shit happens!

The Meaning Of Thingy-ma-bob ... Wossname ...

Normal service has been resumed and I would like to thank you all for your patience!

I have spent a lot of my free time (such of it there was) putting together a collection 

of pictures and giving them captions. I once had over 120 of them and was

thinking about maybe having them published.

Now I only have about 60 due to an unfortunate copying error which 

sadly wasn't noticed until my hard disk had been de-fragmented and cleaned.

You could describe that as a 'major bummer', although I have admit

that I thing 'F*&@ing catastrophe' is a far more accurate description.

What does the tittle have to do with this post?

Nothing at all.

That was the title of a post I submitted to my blog via Window's Live Writer

a few days ago, but for some reason it never saw the light of day.

I would re-post it now, but the draught copy is on a different PC and I don't have 

access to it at the moment.

I have been experiencing turbulence (not flatulence) at work recently.

One of my colleagues downed tools and walked off the job without giving notice.

This left us (me mostly) with a lot of extra calls to cover. 

This has left me with a general feeling of tiredness, of being unappreciated and of being 

a stranger in my own home.

I have only had two days off in the last eight weeks and I find myself

wishing that I was not one of those people who has trouble saying 'No' when it 

means I have to let someone down.

It's a hard wossname ... thingy-ma-bob ...

The Longest Week

Work has been a little much of late. Two seventy-two hour weeks followed by last weeks fifty-four.

This week I'm scheduled for about fifty-eight but ... wait for it ... I'm getting the weekend off!!!

Well, most of it anyway.

My new rota arrived (for this week) on Friday morning. Low and behold ... I was scheduled for another seven days.

I phoned up the office...

"OK! Very funny. Now where's my real rota for next week"

"Eh?"

"There is no way I'm working another full week."

"Who is this?"

In my haste to complain I had forgotten to tell them who I was.

"It's George"

"Hello dahlin"

"Don't you 'dahlin' me."

"What's the matter my love?"

They only talk to me that way when they are trying to placate me. It doesn't work. I'm (mumble-mumble) years old and don't want some slip of a girl calling me 'dahlin' and 'love' unless the circumstances call for it (you know what I mean, wink-wink [don't tell my wife I said that]).

I proceeded to rant about my rota for the coming week and 'slip of a girl' continued to say there was nothing they could do as so many people were off sick or on leave.

Frustrated I just said "Sort it out" and hung up.

Within the hour I received a call from the office. This time there was no 'dahlin', 'love' or any kind of attempt to sweet-talk me.

A voice just said "We've covered your Saturday call's and most of your Sunday call's too. Only one call on Sunday, but it's not far from you anyway. That all right?"

Without much ado, or waiting for my answer, she hung up.

And there you have it!

Saturday off. Sunday just one call.

Pretty much as near as you can get to a 'weekend off' in this business.

After two hundred and fifty-six hours (not including driving time) work I can now look forward to a weekend off in which to mow the lawn, pull up weeds, cut the hedge, repair the shed, tidy up the flower beds (if I can find them) and go shopping.

The thought of all those relaxing activities will keep me going though the rest of the week.

Another Week Draws To A Close

Today's side-order of rain has given me a good excuse not to mow the lawn.  Soggy gardens and a little bit of rain has never stopped me using the petrol mower before, but today it's an excuse that will have to do.

Just in case 'the wife' has other idea's, I've hidden the can of petrol.

My working week is drawing to a close and the new one is already looming!

All in all though, I've had a good, but busy week. Everything has gone smoothly and there have been no problems of any significance. Although my day is technically not over as I have one more call to make.

The gentleman who still awaits my visit is very concerned whenever I see him.

If I do my job ... he doesn't like it!

If I don't do my job ... he doesn't like it!

Ok ... so really, he just doesn't like his situation and lets his frustration out on me and my colleague (double handed call due to the client's infirmity).

Over the past week we have cleaned him from top to bottom (literally), dressed and undressed him twice daily.  We are always polite and friendly whereas he has at various times questioned out parentage, requested us to go forth and multiply, offered to assist our exit of the premises with his foot and told us to get off whilst giving us a slap!

Am I pi$$ed of by his behaviour?

Not in the slightest!

I've been seeing this young man for six years through the various worsening stages of his condition and I can assure you ... everyone of you ... that you would like him if you met him.

Everyone does!

Seeing him always reminds me of why I started doing this job.

Tired and over worked as I am, I will always have time for him.

Taking It's Toll

I've got to admit that I'd much rather be flat on the sofa and snoring rather than writing anything for my blog.

But time is short and my mind is still sort of buzzing.

That tiredness I told you of is taking it's toll and I find myself quite often on the verge of snapping at someone who doesn't deserve it.  The one person I probably do snap at, albeit unknowingly, is my wife, Julie.  She put's up with it like a saint! But I'm sure if it get's too much for her ... well, she has a pretty good right hook is all I'll say!

When your are tired everything bugs you!

The voice of a woman on the radio this morning just infuriated me.  She was one of those wimpy, over girlie-fied types with a scratchy Olive Oyl voice and she used the word 'like' as a punctuation mark several times in every sentence.

I know, I could have listened to music or driven in silence, but that is the thing about being irritated by something or someone ... you listen or watch so that you can have a really good moan about it.
It sucks you in and you just have to continue listening.

And I did moan!

As she spoke I turned the air blue with my colourful complaints and comments.

It lasted for little more than fifteen to twenty minutes but, boy, did I feel better!

My rant (as I was driving it probably amused other road users) at this infuriating woman not only woke me up a little but also made me feel a lot better disposed towards actually working with people with learning problems today.

Speaking of work ... I have to go!

72 Hours!

I'm sorry folks!

72 hour weeks are draining and I just haven't had the energy to sit and write lately.

Hence the rather lame pictures

My bosses don't take account of the hours I (we) have to drive each day.  On average you can add two hours to my day. As I've been working 7 day weeks lately, that's an extra 14 hours on my week that goes unpaid.

I'm tired ...

... tired of pasting a smile on my face every time I see a client
    (it's not their fault so I can't growl at them)...
... tired of 25 mile drives to see someone that has already gone
    out because he forgot I was coming...
... tired of being tired ...
... and tired of 5am starts.

As I said ... I'm tired!

Another week of this regime to go before I get another day off!
That's NEXT WEEK! Not this week!

Wish me luck and hope that I don't lose the plot and do something silly!

What Are The Odds?

Ok, so it was a Sunday.

A slow day for me as it happens as I only had three clients to 'help'.

So, I go to client #1 and he's fine.  I spend an hour sorting him and a few odds and end out then I make to leave.

He stops me and proceeds to tell a joke ... it's an old one and not one of the best, but I laughed anyway.

That's the kind of guy I am!

I dash off to client #2, do the required business, then we had a chat over a cup of tea (I prefer coffee).  Lo and behold, he tells me the same joke as #1!

He put a different slant on it, but it was, in essence, the same.

I laughed (politely) for a second time then bade him farewell before moving on to client #3.

Now client #3 lives some distance away and the drive to his house was one of the those 'fluffy' experiences that make you want to kill people, but in a loving, 'putting them out of their misery' sort of way.

Yes!  The pensioners were all out for their Sunday 'hold everybody up' by driving at 15 MPH though the countryside drive.

It did nothing for my good humour, but it made me forget that joke.

Anyway, at client #3 I once again 'did the biz' and earned a crust.

Halfway though doing it he tells me he wants me to take him to his son's house for lunch and then said "Oh that reminds me.  He (his son) told me a joke the other day!"

He proceeded to explain that, of course, he'd heard the joke before but that perhaps I hadn't and would like to.

"Go on then." I said.  "Hit me!"

This is it...

    During the war (II) a British Lancaster bomber crew is on their way over Germany 

    to their Target.

    As they get closer, the navigator who doubles as the bomb aimer, starts giving more 

    precise directions to guide them in.

    "Left a bit ... right a bit ... steady ... steady ... right a bit ... left a bit ... Bugger!  Back a bit!!!"

Now, this is where the "What Are The Odds?' bit comes in ...

It was the same joke I'd already heard twice before that day!

So what are the odds that three different people,  that don't know each other and are in three different towns, would tell me the same joke (or variations thereof)?

Mathematicians out there, get scribbling.  Work it out!

Tough Blogging And 26 Hours Of Hell!

It would appear that some blogs are, for reasons unknown, unavailable to me this merry morn!

I click, I wait, and I see nothing!

From all those that I follow, less than half have been available to read.  This can really mess up my day!

Some people at this time in the morning can't do without their coffee (intravenously of course to prevent unwarranted hand usage), others will need their fix of cereals or jam on toast ... I need to catch up on what you lot out there have been up to!

But I can't because of some unknown problem (and at least one person having blocked me) and it's so frustrating.

I will have to go to work in a few minutes (it's just gone 6am) and I won't have access to the internet for another 26 hours!

It's gonna be hard and I might not survive, but I'm a roughie-toughie ex-soldier, so I'll not go down without a fight!

Say a prayer for me

Primates And Rock Groups Living The Daydream

Today I was joined on my rounds by Mike, Mickey, Davy and Peter.

They politely informed me that they were 'primates' with a belief in love and daydreams. They related to me the story of  Mary (Mary) and stated their interest into where it was she was actually going.

For a few minutes we were joined by a randy scouse git (who preffered an alternate title) and we discussed Sunday's in a pleasant valley, where squires abounded and a rock group rehearsed.  Then there was that all too brief excursion on the train to a place called Clarksville.

The boys also made it plain that they were not to be trampled on and that they were in no way to be used as stepping stones by anyone.

It was, as it were, a trip down memory lane. Back to the days of my childhood and a reunion with old friends.

I miss those days. I really do!

If there is some confusion as to which old friends I reunited with, feel free to make a comment and I'll get back to you with the answer.