I was talking - huh! how modern! - I was in fact 'chatting' a la MSN to the delicious China Blue yesterday when she happened to say 'I'm more or less done with Facebook now, you know' and it got me thinking.
Recently it made headline, - yes HEADLINE news that Facebook numbers were falling - why is this worthy of the lunchtime news?? (fair do's it was Radio 1 Newsbeat so maybe that's why - but news no less)
Modern net use and social interaction is leading to people actively needing professional help, gamers too - they become so engrossed in a virtual world they get panic attacks if their offline or not blasting aliens or Nazi's to kingdom come. But why this shift? Why do people turn to the safety of their PC's in order to expand their lives? Personally I blame the increased cost of living and the ever increasing 'nanny state' - Don't smoke - you dirty irresponsible basterd! how dare you even think of wandering into a PUB of all places and having a cigarette - you disgusting filthy git! But then you shouldn't drink either cos you'll probably engorge your liver and people like you are such a drain on the NHS - God! do you think of NO-ONE but yourself!??!!?? tsk!
So people are staying home and fair do's - speaking personally, it's not bad - I have a nice house and I don't have to endure a ten minute wait to get served shouting my order over DJ Asshole's latest euroshite.
But I digress, years from now I actually foresee a time when a child will turn to it's father and say;
'Dad - how did you and mum meet?'
'Well I was on a thing we had back then called 'Facebook' and I was using this application 'Do you want to fuck me senseless?' and saw her picture of her standing there with her tits out and we poked each other a few times and the rest they say is history.....'
I'm on Facebook - isn't everyone? but do you know how many unread e-mails I now have in my e-mail inbox??? Over 900. 900 pieces of information telling me that yet again one of my friends has added the application 'Let's all paint our nuts green and call each other Rupert on every alternate Thursday' and have a requirement to invite 28000000 people to do the same, just so they can see that someone thinks that they are a twat. Triffic! Of course only 600 of these are from Facebook - the other 300 are asking if I want to make my dick bigger by buying dodgy Viagra or powdered walrus droppings or some sort of cream. God bless the Internet!
The inventor of the net and world wide web was interviewed recently on the BBC website - even HE is bombarded by this crap - he must be so proud of his achievement when he gets the e-mail with the subject 'How to make her scream tonight!' The net is a truly wonderful thing and has broadened our horizons and thanks to some very dodgy websites - our minds.
The web has made stars and celebrities out of anyone in their own right - Secret diary of a call girl anyone? - even now somewhere there is probably a girl setting up a web cam for the first time and waiting as the raincoat brigade click on her link; credit card in one hand and dick in the other as she begins her road to Internet stardom. All the while her parents could be downstairs watching University Challenge blissfully unaware that their little girl is NOT researching her essay but is in actual fact the nets newest tease. I worry about things like that.
Now, in all honesty this may sound a little hypercritical - I have a daughter and do you know where I met her mother?? - Ebay. Yes, I know don't say it but yes, Ebay. And no I didn't buy her - thats quite a different website all together. I bought something there was a problem with the paypal payment and we started e-mailing each other and yes as the cliche goes - the rest they say is history. But, My little girl will not be subjected to exploiting herself online - the day she does is the day that she will no longer make me proud. I brought her into this world and by Christ I'll keep it the type of world I want her in.
The net is responsible for many things - friendships and relationships can be forged and renewed but they can also be destroyed. A few years ago there was a programme called 'Friends Reunited ruined my life' there were a few stories of people's mis-fortune with this site which in all honesty was a fore-runner to face book but restricted to school mates and charged you for the privilege, but I digress, there was a story of a couple a few weeks away from their wedding - Miss Thing goes onto Friends Reunited to look up old friends to invite them to the big day - oh dear but whats this? Her old school boyfriend! Enter stage left. blah de blah de blah... anyway they start flirting and he is invited to the wedding - it turns out the flirting had become so intense he fucked the bride before and AFTER the wedding and went to the same resort as the honeymooning couple -bounced her like a beachball there too and by the time they landed back at Gatwick lawyers were involved! I kid you not.
As an interesting aside an e-mail was sent today from the lord-god-almighty-head-of-everything-and wall-to-wall-carpets to everyone at my work place to remind staff that derogatory comments on such sites about the company could and HAS led to dismissal! Cue exodus to the Internet cafe in the canteen.......
To conclude the Internet can and does give you another life - maybe it is time to close Facebook, all good stories come to an end don't they? Of the old friends I met again and have met again in various pubs since I think I e-mail about 10 out of 140. There is a life beyond the screen but there's also one beyond the front door.
I realise the irony of me sitting her cussing out the Internet, this being an Internet blog and everything but.......you're sitting here reading it aren't you! ;o)
Wednesday, 19 March 2008
Tuesday, 18 March 2008
Emergency Ward 10 1/2
The nagging, stinging annoyance in the back of my nose and or throat (depending on how it's feeling) has decided to reveal itself as a bloody cold!
Cue cries of a women folk everywhere: 'Oh Christ! He's got 'manflu'' Au contraire I assure you. I HATE being ill - not because I feel like shit and like so many of my fellow manfolk feel the need every ten minutes to go 'Ooohhhh I do feel unwell' (meaning of course - give me 10cc's of sympathy - stat!!) but because I get very VERY bored. Being ill interferes with my schedule and means I can't do half the things I want to.
I am not a work-a-holic, far from it but it's only in really REALLY bad cases will I bite the bullet and call in sick. I have been a work-a-holic mind you; Once upon a time when I was running a pub up in London I was physically ejected from my own premises by the finance and general managers owing to the fact that I was grey - no shit - GREY. I had (as it turns out) Flu of the most monumental scale - I was roasting hot or freezing cold and basically sat there shivering looking like a zombie (only considerably better dressed - why do zombies feel the need to tear their clothes in places??? I always wore a suit don't cha know...) I was made to go home and not come back until I was better as I was scaring the punters.
Once home I was on the phone hourly - what have we taken? how many people are in? who's on shift or didn't turn up? What have we taken now? Don't forget the brewery orders! Can someone bring the invoices round so I can sign them? etc etc etc
These days I don't like to be at home sick as now I have Jeremy 'more holier than thou' Kyle irritating the living shit out of more than any illness ever could. I sometimes think my current employer actually like this arrangement of crap daytime TV as sickness is strictly frowned upon. This has, sometimes, backfired on them as once you are in they are very reluctant to let you go home again. I get migraine (lucky old me eh?) and one time one crept up on me and hit me at work.
'Can I go home please? I have a migraine'
'Oh......do you want to go out and have some fresh air and see how you feel'
'Well not really no - I feel nauseous, I have a Jean Michelle Jarre concert going on in my eyeballs and what feels like a large axe in my cranium'
'Don't you have tablets???'
'Yes I have tablets but they make me sleep - I'll be good for nothing and believe it or not they are only MILDLY effective against a BLOODY MIGRAINE!!!!!'
'Well give it an hour and see how you feel'
I return to my desk, pop my glasses back on, look at my monitor and all of a sudden just as one of my juniors asks to refer to me...........
'Huuuuuurrrrggghhhhhh!!!' I said promptly vomiting onto my keyboard and managing to write it off - systems admin were not best pleased.
Of course I have played sickies as well - there are times when I have been told 'you are not going into work today - I think you need to stay in bed (wink wink) and have done! Amazing what bed rest can do for you ;o)
Luckily I am blessed with quite a high metabolism so thankfully colds and stuff don't really get a hold of me so I'll be OK. If I'm not then as Spike Milligan said; 'I told you I was ill!!'
Cue cries of a women folk everywhere: 'Oh Christ! He's got 'manflu'' Au contraire I assure you. I HATE being ill - not because I feel like shit and like so many of my fellow manfolk feel the need every ten minutes to go 'Ooohhhh I do feel unwell' (meaning of course - give me 10cc's of sympathy - stat!!) but because I get very VERY bored. Being ill interferes with my schedule and means I can't do half the things I want to.
I am not a work-a-holic, far from it but it's only in really REALLY bad cases will I bite the bullet and call in sick. I have been a work-a-holic mind you; Once upon a time when I was running a pub up in London I was physically ejected from my own premises by the finance and general managers owing to the fact that I was grey - no shit - GREY. I had (as it turns out) Flu of the most monumental scale - I was roasting hot or freezing cold and basically sat there shivering looking like a zombie (only considerably better dressed - why do zombies feel the need to tear their clothes in places??? I always wore a suit don't cha know...) I was made to go home and not come back until I was better as I was scaring the punters.
Once home I was on the phone hourly - what have we taken? how many people are in? who's on shift or didn't turn up? What have we taken now? Don't forget the brewery orders! Can someone bring the invoices round so I can sign them? etc etc etc
These days I don't like to be at home sick as now I have Jeremy 'more holier than thou' Kyle irritating the living shit out of more than any illness ever could. I sometimes think my current employer actually like this arrangement of crap daytime TV as sickness is strictly frowned upon. This has, sometimes, backfired on them as once you are in they are very reluctant to let you go home again. I get migraine (lucky old me eh?) and one time one crept up on me and hit me at work.
'Can I go home please? I have a migraine'
'Oh......do you want to go out and have some fresh air and see how you feel'
'Well not really no - I feel nauseous, I have a Jean Michelle Jarre concert going on in my eyeballs and what feels like a large axe in my cranium'
'Don't you have tablets???'
'Yes I have tablets but they make me sleep - I'll be good for nothing and believe it or not they are only MILDLY effective against a BLOODY MIGRAINE!!!!!'
'Well give it an hour and see how you feel'
I return to my desk, pop my glasses back on, look at my monitor and all of a sudden just as one of my juniors asks to refer to me...........
'Huuuuuurrrrggghhhhhh!!!' I said promptly vomiting onto my keyboard and managing to write it off - systems admin were not best pleased.
Of course I have played sickies as well - there are times when I have been told 'you are not going into work today - I think you need to stay in bed (wink wink) and have done! Amazing what bed rest can do for you ;o)
Luckily I am blessed with quite a high metabolism so thankfully colds and stuff don't really get a hold of me so I'll be OK. If I'm not then as Spike Milligan said; 'I told you I was ill!!'
Saturday, 15 March 2008
Gooseberrys
I have this moment returned from a wedding reception.
I have decided I hate them. The people whom I have been a guest of tonight are friends, indeed I have worked with the groom for 3 years or so. However, no matter how pally you are at work when you are invited to a wedding reception you feel distinctly different. You are suddenly thrust into a room with 150 people you simply do not know, yet your friends know.
So you wander into the venue and desperately try to look for other friends that you do know so that you don't stand there all night on your own looking like a total plank. I managed this, before realising that yes, as I had the car and they had been to the service and as such had a head start on drinking they were considerably more intoxicated than I was - and had made new friends. Oh dear, plus and this was the killer - I entered alone. Now, when your friends are used to you being Silver Hawk and...... eyebrows are raised when it is just plain old Silver Hawk. Edgy silences ensue after the Hello's and How are you's - there's only so many times you can ask your mates pregnant wife how she's doing - I knew the answer - shes pissed off, sober and feeling bloated, unattractive and annoyed that her husband is pissed as a newt - though she didn't say any of this but Desmond Morris has nothing on me when it comes to people watching.
The bride and groom are more tactful and are terribly grateful that I made it and they know the score and hope that I'm OK - for this I am truly thankful for them being friends and on their big day are still able to look out for and care about me - a very selfless act in my eyes.
There are countless 'in' jokes flying around about the stag and hen do's which whizz over my head like bullets. I don't want to be here anymore but smile and look interested in things scanning my eye around the room and making small talk where I can.
Then there comes the buffet, an ongoing expanse of pizza fingers, mini sausages, onion bhaji's, cheese and pineapple and the standard issue ham, egg and tuna mayo sandwiches. The assorted masses devour the spread like they have been crawling across the Sahara for 3 weeks - in minutes it's decimated.
I weave about mingling without being bothered and bothering no-one - time for a cigarette with the groom - maybe a chance to have a chat. No chance, outside in the little covered area there's already a welcoming committee for him - there is at every turn for him and the bride and possibly rightly so but I can tell he's getting a little tired - after all, a day of being constantly hugged and slapped on the back it would be nice now just to have some time with friends and relax wouldn't it? Again, the assembled crowd are all tanked up and a random blonde points at me, her finger inches from my face and says to the groom 'Whose this?' The groom introduces me and within seconds she's already forgotten who I am - This doesn't bother me except I know that I will no doubt be introduced to her again in about half an hour - joy! I'll be counting the minutes.
After being introduced to some of the bride and grooms families who are all pleasant but really couldn't give a flying toss about who I am other than someone who has come to eat food they have paid for, I decide it's time to slip away. I say my goodbyes to the bride and groom and return to my car. My mind is running, there were times I dreamt of my wedding reception and how want it to be but who knows when or even if that will ever be and as I drive I hear the lyrics; the lyrics which couldn't be more apt.....
'But I won't cry for yesterday, there's an ordinary world somehow I have to find,
and as I try to find my way to the ordinary world, I know I will survive.......'
I have decided I hate them. The people whom I have been a guest of tonight are friends, indeed I have worked with the groom for 3 years or so. However, no matter how pally you are at work when you are invited to a wedding reception you feel distinctly different. You are suddenly thrust into a room with 150 people you simply do not know, yet your friends know.
So you wander into the venue and desperately try to look for other friends that you do know so that you don't stand there all night on your own looking like a total plank. I managed this, before realising that yes, as I had the car and they had been to the service and as such had a head start on drinking they were considerably more intoxicated than I was - and had made new friends. Oh dear, plus and this was the killer - I entered alone. Now, when your friends are used to you being Silver Hawk and...... eyebrows are raised when it is just plain old Silver Hawk. Edgy silences ensue after the Hello's and How are you's - there's only so many times you can ask your mates pregnant wife how she's doing - I knew the answer - shes pissed off, sober and feeling bloated, unattractive and annoyed that her husband is pissed as a newt - though she didn't say any of this but Desmond Morris has nothing on me when it comes to people watching.
The bride and groom are more tactful and are terribly grateful that I made it and they know the score and hope that I'm OK - for this I am truly thankful for them being friends and on their big day are still able to look out for and care about me - a very selfless act in my eyes.
There are countless 'in' jokes flying around about the stag and hen do's which whizz over my head like bullets. I don't want to be here anymore but smile and look interested in things scanning my eye around the room and making small talk where I can.
Then there comes the buffet, an ongoing expanse of pizza fingers, mini sausages, onion bhaji's, cheese and pineapple and the standard issue ham, egg and tuna mayo sandwiches. The assorted masses devour the spread like they have been crawling across the Sahara for 3 weeks - in minutes it's decimated.
I weave about mingling without being bothered and bothering no-one - time for a cigarette with the groom - maybe a chance to have a chat. No chance, outside in the little covered area there's already a welcoming committee for him - there is at every turn for him and the bride and possibly rightly so but I can tell he's getting a little tired - after all, a day of being constantly hugged and slapped on the back it would be nice now just to have some time with friends and relax wouldn't it? Again, the assembled crowd are all tanked up and a random blonde points at me, her finger inches from my face and says to the groom 'Whose this?' The groom introduces me and within seconds she's already forgotten who I am - This doesn't bother me except I know that I will no doubt be introduced to her again in about half an hour - joy! I'll be counting the minutes.
After being introduced to some of the bride and grooms families who are all pleasant but really couldn't give a flying toss about who I am other than someone who has come to eat food they have paid for, I decide it's time to slip away. I say my goodbyes to the bride and groom and return to my car. My mind is running, there were times I dreamt of my wedding reception and how want it to be but who knows when or even if that will ever be and as I drive I hear the lyrics; the lyrics which couldn't be more apt.....
'But I won't cry for yesterday, there's an ordinary world somehow I have to find,
and as I try to find my way to the ordinary world, I know I will survive.......'
Have you tried to reboot it???
Well here I am again - I'm getting into this blogging malarky - as the nun at the sewing machine said 'This is becoming a habit'
I am beginning to get irritated by almost everything I own. My dear PC which is now as reliable as a crackhead stumbling down Holloway Road is getting on my wick.
There is a little nasty bug somewhere inside which Norton (acting like a stereotypical workman) can't do anything about other than constantly tell me about it. Norton pops up and says 'Alright chief - got a bit of a problem here I found something nasty' Me, being the typical 'saw you coming' customer goes 'Oh dear - can you fix it?' Whereupon Norton takes a sharp intake of breath over its teeth and goes 'Well, I can have a go but its the parts and labour see chief - tell you what, you have a cup of tea and I'll get back to you.........sometime.....maybe.......if I feel like'
So I carry on and a little while later Norton will interrupt me and say 'That problem's still here you know mate....' I scowl and say through gritted teeth 'FIX IT THEN!' 'Sorry mate I ain't got the parts on the van - tell you what I'll stick it to one side and we'll see how it goes eh?'
I call tech support........in Cali-fuckin-fornia and speak to a paid geek, drawling over his words and seeming totally impressed to be speaking to someone on the other side of the world, trying to make small talk to me about the weather and what time it is - look son, I couldn't really give a fuck if you're having a hurricane and you're currently strapped to a tree to stop yourself being blown to buggery - fix my bloody computer!!!
'OK well sir, the problem seems to be in you're root drive'
Me, having no idea what he's talking about but trying not to sound like I do, plays the conversational joker; making me sound like I know exactly what he means;
'Ahhhh I see, OK' This phrase makes you instantly sound more intelligent in these situations - try it!
'So,' I say sounding full of hope as this guy obviously knows what he's talking about 'How can you or I fix it?'
'Ah, well sir you see it's now causing a problem to the main operating system'
(Pause) 'OK.......so this means........???'
'Well in these instances it's probably best for you to format your hard drive and re-install Windows'
'Sorry, it sounded like you said I need to format my hard drive and put Windows back again'
'That's right'
'Hang on a minute, I need to totally wipe my PC and put windows back on' I'm saying this like I've just been told I have six months to live.....
'Well yeah' His nonchalance lights my touch paper.......
'Can I just point out that I bought your poxy programme to prevent this kind of thing?? My PC has an 80gb drive of which 70gb is being used!! why didn't your fucking thing prevent it?!?!?!?? So now I have to lose all my stuff just to fix this problem which YOU were supposed to prevent from happening in the first place!!!'
Despite my tirade he is un-flustered....git. He now thinks he can be helpful.......'You could back your files up'
'On what exactly?? The only thing I know of other than about 100 cd's that will hold that much memory is another PC which kind of negates me from fixing this one!!'
'Well that's your choice.....'
'So are you going to give me a refund and a copy of Windows then?'
'We can't refund you as we don't know what caused the problem - maybe you downloaded something that was infected...don't you have a Windows CD?'
'Look sunshine, even if I did download something your fucked up programme should have prevented it - LIKE IT'S SUPPOSED TO! and no I don't have a Windows CD - the computer came with it on it already.'
'Well there's nothing more I can suggest - you should be able to get a copy of Windows from your computer manufacturer'
'Hmm well thank you - you've been useless'
(missing the insult) 'Thank you for calling'
So now I await a nice e-mail from HP telling me that they will send me an XP disc. Harumph! If they don't then I guess I will just have to sweet talk my friend who works for them to source me a nice new cheap one - The saga continues...........
As a post script - don't worry I'm not contagious!!
I am beginning to get irritated by almost everything I own. My dear PC which is now as reliable as a crackhead stumbling down Holloway Road is getting on my wick.
There is a little nasty bug somewhere inside which Norton (acting like a stereotypical workman) can't do anything about other than constantly tell me about it. Norton pops up and says 'Alright chief - got a bit of a problem here I found something nasty' Me, being the typical 'saw you coming' customer goes 'Oh dear - can you fix it?' Whereupon Norton takes a sharp intake of breath over its teeth and goes 'Well, I can have a go but its the parts and labour see chief - tell you what, you have a cup of tea and I'll get back to you.........sometime.....maybe.......if I feel like'
So I carry on and a little while later Norton will interrupt me and say 'That problem's still here you know mate....' I scowl and say through gritted teeth 'FIX IT THEN!' 'Sorry mate I ain't got the parts on the van - tell you what I'll stick it to one side and we'll see how it goes eh?'
I call tech support........in Cali-fuckin-fornia and speak to a paid geek, drawling over his words and seeming totally impressed to be speaking to someone on the other side of the world, trying to make small talk to me about the weather and what time it is - look son, I couldn't really give a fuck if you're having a hurricane and you're currently strapped to a tree to stop yourself being blown to buggery - fix my bloody computer!!!
'OK well sir, the problem seems to be in you're root drive'
Me, having no idea what he's talking about but trying not to sound like I do, plays the conversational joker; making me sound like I know exactly what he means;
'Ahhhh I see, OK' This phrase makes you instantly sound more intelligent in these situations - try it!
'So,' I say sounding full of hope as this guy obviously knows what he's talking about 'How can you or I fix it?'
'Ah, well sir you see it's now causing a problem to the main operating system'
(Pause) 'OK.......so this means........???'
'Well in these instances it's probably best for you to format your hard drive and re-install Windows'
'Sorry, it sounded like you said I need to format my hard drive and put Windows back again'
'That's right'
'Hang on a minute, I need to totally wipe my PC and put windows back on' I'm saying this like I've just been told I have six months to live.....
'Well yeah' His nonchalance lights my touch paper.......
'Can I just point out that I bought your poxy programme to prevent this kind of thing?? My PC has an 80gb drive of which 70gb is being used!! why didn't your fucking thing prevent it?!?!?!?? So now I have to lose all my stuff just to fix this problem which YOU were supposed to prevent from happening in the first place!!!'
Despite my tirade he is un-flustered....git. He now thinks he can be helpful.......'You could back your files up'
'On what exactly?? The only thing I know of other than about 100 cd's that will hold that much memory is another PC which kind of negates me from fixing this one!!'
'Well that's your choice.....'
'So are you going to give me a refund and a copy of Windows then?'
'We can't refund you as we don't know what caused the problem - maybe you downloaded something that was infected...don't you have a Windows CD?'
'Look sunshine, even if I did download something your fucked up programme should have prevented it - LIKE IT'S SUPPOSED TO! and no I don't have a Windows CD - the computer came with it on it already.'
'Well there's nothing more I can suggest - you should be able to get a copy of Windows from your computer manufacturer'
'Hmm well thank you - you've been useless'
(missing the insult) 'Thank you for calling'
So now I await a nice e-mail from HP telling me that they will send me an XP disc. Harumph! If they don't then I guess I will just have to sweet talk my friend who works for them to source me a nice new cheap one - The saga continues...........
As a post script - don't worry I'm not contagious!!
Friday, 14 March 2008
Cheque please!!.......
I have an announcement; As of midday today I have formally opted out of being a member of 'The general public'. My reason for this is quite simple - I'm too intelligent. I mean don't get me wrong, I'm not out on the piss most weekends with Stephen Hawking and Carol Vorderman but I'm smarter than the average bear.....
Today whist speaking to a customer of the bank I work for (please don't hate me - I have bills too you know!) I had a discussion which went like this.
'Good Morning X bank, Silver Hawk speaking, How can I help you?'
'Yes good morning, I have a problem with my Internet banking'
'OK' (presses mute 'then why don't you ring the number on Internet banking labelled 'help desk' you twat!?!?') 'Let's see if I can sort it out for you' (simper)
'Yes, I'm trying to pay money in'
'By Internet transfer you mean?'
'No by cheque - There isn't an option to chose 'paying in' - I can pay bills, and transfer money and stuff but I can't pay in'
By now the needle on my WTF!!!! Meter is off the scale
'Sorry, but did you say you're trying to pay money in????'
'That's right'
'Well...' (mute, deep breath, un-mute) 'You cant pay in via the Internet - it's impossible'
'Oh really? (sounding genuinely surprised by this) Why's that then?'
'Because the bank won't be in possession of the payment - you have no means of giving it to us'
'I Don't understand'
(mute) WHAT THE FUCK IS THERE NOT TO UNDERSTAND YOU PRICK??? - WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO???? SCAN THE NOTES AND CHEQUES IN AND E-MAIL THEM TO US!!?!?!?!?!?) 'The bank won't receive the cheques to process and apply to your account'
'Even in this day and age?'
(As sarcastically as I can possibly get away with) 'Yes I'm afraid even in this digital age it's not possible - the bank still needs the cheque'
'Are there any plans to bring this in then - can I suggest it?'
(mute) Now you're just taking the piss now mate aren't you - what do you think this is, you make a suggestion that's completely fucking ludicrous and you win a car or something (un-mute) 'Errrrrmmm I doubt it - head office hasn't said anything about it' (mute chuckling at what I'm actually saying and being believed in)
'So how can I pay in then?'
(mute) Have you even had a bank account before - have you been in a coma or something???? (un-mute) 'Well you'd need to go to a branch.......'
'OK lovely - which one'
'Any one'
'Any one?'
'Yes any X bank branch'
'It has to be X bank then'
(mute) GIVE ME FUCKING STRENGTH!!! OF COURSE IT DOES YOU TWAT!!!!!! (un-mute) 'Yes.........(trying not to sound toooooo patronising and failing miserably) as your account is with us'
'OK I'll pop down later then'
(mute) I couldn't be less interested (un-mute) 'OK no problem'
'Well you've been very helpful - thank you so much'
(mute) And you've been just plain bloody stupid and will probably get lost on your way to your own branch (un-mute) 'My pleasure - goodbye!'
This customer was 32 years of age and wait for it...........is a teacher.
Today whist speaking to a customer of the bank I work for (please don't hate me - I have bills too you know!) I had a discussion which went like this.
'Good Morning X bank, Silver Hawk speaking, How can I help you?'
'Yes good morning, I have a problem with my Internet banking'
'OK' (presses mute 'then why don't you ring the number on Internet banking labelled 'help desk' you twat!?!?') 'Let's see if I can sort it out for you' (simper)
'Yes, I'm trying to pay money in'
'By Internet transfer you mean?'
'No by cheque - There isn't an option to chose 'paying in' - I can pay bills, and transfer money and stuff but I can't pay in'
By now the needle on my WTF!!!! Meter is off the scale
'Sorry, but did you say you're trying to pay money in????'
'That's right'
'Well...' (mute, deep breath, un-mute) 'You cant pay in via the Internet - it's impossible'
'Oh really? (sounding genuinely surprised by this) Why's that then?'
'Because the bank won't be in possession of the payment - you have no means of giving it to us'
'I Don't understand'
(mute) WHAT THE FUCK IS THERE NOT TO UNDERSTAND YOU PRICK??? - WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO???? SCAN THE NOTES AND CHEQUES IN AND E-MAIL THEM TO US!!?!?!?!?!?) 'The bank won't receive the cheques to process and apply to your account'
'Even in this day and age?'
(As sarcastically as I can possibly get away with) 'Yes I'm afraid even in this digital age it's not possible - the bank still needs the cheque'
'Are there any plans to bring this in then - can I suggest it?'
(mute) Now you're just taking the piss now mate aren't you - what do you think this is, you make a suggestion that's completely fucking ludicrous and you win a car or something (un-mute) 'Errrrrmmm I doubt it - head office hasn't said anything about it' (mute chuckling at what I'm actually saying and being believed in)
'So how can I pay in then?'
(mute) Have you even had a bank account before - have you been in a coma or something???? (un-mute) 'Well you'd need to go to a branch.......'
'OK lovely - which one'
'Any one'
'Any one?'
'Yes any X bank branch'
'It has to be X bank then'
(mute) GIVE ME FUCKING STRENGTH!!! OF COURSE IT DOES YOU TWAT!!!!!! (un-mute) 'Yes.........(trying not to sound toooooo patronising and failing miserably) as your account is with us'
'OK I'll pop down later then'
(mute) I couldn't be less interested (un-mute) 'OK no problem'
'Well you've been very helpful - thank you so much'
(mute) And you've been just plain bloody stupid and will probably get lost on your way to your own branch (un-mute) 'My pleasure - goodbye!'
This customer was 32 years of age and wait for it...........is a teacher.
Thursday, 13 March 2008
It's not the mouth it comes out of - it's the mind it goes into.....
This morning I was welcomed into work by the news from above that I was today going to get some 'On the job training'. This of course instantly filled my mind with an afternoon of pure carnal lust against the photocopier and an end to the current drought/hose pipe ban in place, sadly this was not the case.
I have a mind which is dirtier that a London street before Joseph Bazalgette designed and built London's sewers - seriously, you can get cholera off my thoughts - they really are absolute filth. Everyone I know seems to have no problem with this - I have after all, lasted the last 7 years in my job without being subjected to a disciplinary (fnar fnar) hearing.
I have what has been described as a 'lightning wit' and can I really be blamed if I just can't hold my tongue following others wandering into an innuendo minefield?? I've had a few nicknames because of this; one of the ones currently in circulation is 'Chandler' as I do not treat sarcasm as the lowest form of wit. An instant cutting retort is, in my mind, far more difficult to craft than some people can fathom. Cut to the office (Office random)'You seen the new girl? Jesus! what a growler!' (Me) 'Well I wouldn't say she was ugly but I've seen better faces on a clock' I can be caustic and venomous and have cut people down to size like a samurai - where deserved.
But now it seems a new nickname is forming - 'Quagmire'. Not a muddy pit signifying my deviant mind but after Glenn Quagmire from 'Family Guy' (Giggety!!) It's true - I can debase a conversation in seconds. Earlier on my friend Jo and I were returning into the building from the smoke shelter (god bless this nanny state!) It's raining, cue Jo.....
'Can we walk faster? I'm getting very wet and it will make my hair get curlier'
'Find me a woman that doesn't get curlier hair as she gets wetter - diddely boom TISSSSHHHHH!'
I have a new game that I play now, where I try to make Jo laugh out loud just as she's answering the phone at work - if you call us and all you can hear is a giggling girl claiming that she has something stuck in her throat (which is just further bait to me) - It's all my fault.....as the actress said to the bishop.
I have a mind which is dirtier that a London street before Joseph Bazalgette designed and built London's sewers - seriously, you can get cholera off my thoughts - they really are absolute filth. Everyone I know seems to have no problem with this - I have after all, lasted the last 7 years in my job without being subjected to a disciplinary (fnar fnar) hearing.
I have what has been described as a 'lightning wit' and can I really be blamed if I just can't hold my tongue following others wandering into an innuendo minefield?? I've had a few nicknames because of this; one of the ones currently in circulation is 'Chandler' as I do not treat sarcasm as the lowest form of wit. An instant cutting retort is, in my mind, far more difficult to craft than some people can fathom. Cut to the office (Office random)'You seen the new girl? Jesus! what a growler!' (Me) 'Well I wouldn't say she was ugly but I've seen better faces on a clock' I can be caustic and venomous and have cut people down to size like a samurai - where deserved.
But now it seems a new nickname is forming - 'Quagmire'. Not a muddy pit signifying my deviant mind but after Glenn Quagmire from 'Family Guy' (Giggety!!) It's true - I can debase a conversation in seconds. Earlier on my friend Jo and I were returning into the building from the smoke shelter (god bless this nanny state!) It's raining, cue Jo.....
'Can we walk faster? I'm getting very wet and it will make my hair get curlier'
'Find me a woman that doesn't get curlier hair as she gets wetter - diddely boom TISSSSHHHHH!'
I have a new game that I play now, where I try to make Jo laugh out loud just as she's answering the phone at work - if you call us and all you can hear is a giggling girl claiming that she has something stuck in her throat (which is just further bait to me) - It's all my fault.....as the actress said to the bishop.
Wednesday, 12 March 2008
Tempus Fugit
I was sitting in the car this morning weaving through a throng of pedestrians and sadly missing all of them, when I realised something; a quarter of the year has gone - poof! disappeared!
Harumph! thinks I, so much for my new years resolutions then! Yes sad to say I have not yet discovered a cure for all known diseases, won the lottery, created world harmony, dispelled racism or engaged in sexual athletics with Rihanna (a particular disappointment the last one). On a more realistic level away from Planet Silver Hawk; I have started to eat a little healthier, I do take more walks and I don't drink as much as I (should) used to. Plus I have got off my (slightly firmer) ass and have started my master plan on career development - manager grade here I come!!
Do I feel better? Do I Bollocks!
So on reflection I think my new years resolution next year will be not to make any new years resolutions.........Oh fuuuuuuuuck!
Harumph! thinks I, so much for my new years resolutions then! Yes sad to say I have not yet discovered a cure for all known diseases, won the lottery, created world harmony, dispelled racism or engaged in sexual athletics with Rihanna (a particular disappointment the last one). On a more realistic level away from Planet Silver Hawk; I have started to eat a little healthier, I do take more walks and I don't drink as much as I (should) used to. Plus I have got off my (slightly firmer) ass and have started my master plan on career development - manager grade here I come!!
Do I feel better? Do I Bollocks!
So on reflection I think my new years resolution next year will be not to make any new years resolutions.........Oh fuuuuuuuuck!
Tuesday, 11 March 2008
(Too) Far From the Madding Crowd
It's been a long time since I lived in London, but there's times I want to move back. When I turned 18 after surpassing myself and 'not doing as well as I'd hoped' in my A-levels I packed up my stuff - Dick Whittington styleee and set to seek my fortune and get educated (HA HA HA) in London. A sprawling metropolis was going to be my new base, a place that hitherto had memories of day trips with my parents when I was just a lil kid - a big day out! On the TRAIN! How exciting! - So here's how it used to go; up at stupid o'clock to be at the station before 8, a three hour journey of my sister and I generally getting on each other's nerves kicking each other under the table, my mums bag becoming the one Mary Poppins had; producing sandwiches, drinks, games, magazines, a walkman the size of a Volvo that my sister used to listen to, umbrella's, maps etc etc etc. I used to wonder if she was part Sherpa....
So, we arrive in London Paddington and then the next adventure - the tube. Tickets bought my mum would impart her usual cautionary advice; 'If we get separated on the tube getting off - carry on to the next station get off and wait - don't talk to anyone - we will come and get you.' We would then go to our chosen destination for that day - The Science Museum, The National History Museum, The V&A Museum (do you see a pattern emerging here??). Lunch was ALWAYS at a pub that did a)Kids b)a cheese ploughman's for my sister - how she coped being a vegetarian in the 80's was and remains a mystery to me - she just never took to meat. Whipping round London was a whistle stop affair with Mum and Dad constantly scanning the urban landscape for any danger or bag snatcher within a 50 yard radius. Then, at 5.30 (always 5.30) the train home again. If we had been good we may go to the chippy on the way home.
Prior to my move at 18, I had drifted to London on my own and had much more relaxed times, comfortably ensconcing myself in carriage B as this was the glory days of when you could still smoke on a train and, at 17 to smoke in public was a big deal where I was from. I perceived myself as being deeply sophisticated and used to indulge myself in Earl Grey tea in Covent Garden, or something slightly harder in a random pub I would find on my travels. I would shop, meander and peruse the capital in ways I had never been able to before.
In Uni, I had made plans to complete my exploration of London, Ha! never happened - I spent my 5 years exploring London but not in the ways I had planned, London was alive! - I could club until ridiculous o'clock, get on a bus talking absolute rubbish to total strangers who used to chat equally banal drivel back to me, but when you're drunk, you've never agreed with someone more. Cut to Trafalgar Square around 4am and random girl pipes up 'I think pigeons are really lovely' 'Do you know what love!!? Your fucking right!!! They rock! I fuckin' love em! - Where you been tonight then etc etc etc.......' There was always a party to go to and never a lecture. We used to go out for dinner and midnight drives round the capital as and when the mood took us on a whim. I loved that you could still get a shop open at anytime of the night and no matter what time you went there it was always the same guy behind the counter. You could get food of any description either delivered or down your throat at stupid o'clock too.
But after 5 years and at the suggestion (flat instruction) of the girl in tow of the time (What was I thinking???) I flew the city. D'oh! Still, like a dirty rumour, I ended up back where I started. As much as every Londoner that I know who has ever come down to my corner of the world falls head over heels in love with the place, they always go back after the weekend - well, some didn't, but that's another story entirely.....
Down here the air is clean, there is no noise and the planes overhead are still at about 5000 feet not 50. Villagers nod acknowledgements in the street to strangers, I've left they keys to my car in the ignition, unlocked with the windows and sunroof open all night long and it was still there in the morning. I can walk into my local, drop my wallet, keys and phone down on the table and wander off to the bar knowing they'll be there when I get back. This stuns all my London friends. And don't get me started on the views, the last time most of my friends had a drink on a cliff top or a sandy beach and watched as the sun dissolved into the sea amidst mares tail clouds they were in the Med - I can do it almost every other day in summer - not showing off; that's just how it is.
So why then do I sometimes hanker after being crushed into a tube train wondering exactly whats inside that mans rucksack, where that pretty girl's going, why this prick next to me won't shut up??? I still want to be grossly over-charged for a round of drinks that will possibly involve selling a kidney to pay for. I want to sit pointlessly in traffic wondering why the hell I haven't moved in 10 minutes. I want to meet my friends on a Sunday morning for ludicrous coffee that goes cold too quickly. I know some of these thing could still be possible but my fonder memories involve my friends and how we lived at the time, some aren't around anymore (God rest them) and the ones that are have all got older - not so much wiser but older nonetheless and, like photos - we've all developed. We've become the people we were fighting off becoming as students - we've become.......grown ups.
So, we arrive in London Paddington and then the next adventure - the tube. Tickets bought my mum would impart her usual cautionary advice; 'If we get separated on the tube getting off - carry on to the next station get off and wait - don't talk to anyone - we will come and get you.' We would then go to our chosen destination for that day - The Science Museum, The National History Museum, The V&A Museum (do you see a pattern emerging here??). Lunch was ALWAYS at a pub that did a)Kids b)a cheese ploughman's for my sister - how she coped being a vegetarian in the 80's was and remains a mystery to me - she just never took to meat. Whipping round London was a whistle stop affair with Mum and Dad constantly scanning the urban landscape for any danger or bag snatcher within a 50 yard radius. Then, at 5.30 (always 5.30) the train home again. If we had been good we may go to the chippy on the way home.
Prior to my move at 18, I had drifted to London on my own and had much more relaxed times, comfortably ensconcing myself in carriage B as this was the glory days of when you could still smoke on a train and, at 17 to smoke in public was a big deal where I was from. I perceived myself as being deeply sophisticated and used to indulge myself in Earl Grey tea in Covent Garden, or something slightly harder in a random pub I would find on my travels. I would shop, meander and peruse the capital in ways I had never been able to before.
In Uni, I had made plans to complete my exploration of London, Ha! never happened - I spent my 5 years exploring London but not in the ways I had planned, London was alive! - I could club until ridiculous o'clock, get on a bus talking absolute rubbish to total strangers who used to chat equally banal drivel back to me, but when you're drunk, you've never agreed with someone more. Cut to Trafalgar Square around 4am and random girl pipes up 'I think pigeons are really lovely' 'Do you know what love!!? Your fucking right!!! They rock! I fuckin' love em! - Where you been tonight then etc etc etc.......' There was always a party to go to and never a lecture. We used to go out for dinner and midnight drives round the capital as and when the mood took us on a whim. I loved that you could still get a shop open at anytime of the night and no matter what time you went there it was always the same guy behind the counter. You could get food of any description either delivered or down your throat at stupid o'clock too.
But after 5 years and at the suggestion (flat instruction) of the girl in tow of the time (What was I thinking???) I flew the city. D'oh! Still, like a dirty rumour, I ended up back where I started. As much as every Londoner that I know who has ever come down to my corner of the world falls head over heels in love with the place, they always go back after the weekend - well, some didn't, but that's another story entirely.....
Down here the air is clean, there is no noise and the planes overhead are still at about 5000 feet not 50. Villagers nod acknowledgements in the street to strangers, I've left they keys to my car in the ignition, unlocked with the windows and sunroof open all night long and it was still there in the morning. I can walk into my local, drop my wallet, keys and phone down on the table and wander off to the bar knowing they'll be there when I get back. This stuns all my London friends. And don't get me started on the views, the last time most of my friends had a drink on a cliff top or a sandy beach and watched as the sun dissolved into the sea amidst mares tail clouds they were in the Med - I can do it almost every other day in summer - not showing off; that's just how it is.
So why then do I sometimes hanker after being crushed into a tube train wondering exactly whats inside that mans rucksack, where that pretty girl's going, why this prick next to me won't shut up??? I still want to be grossly over-charged for a round of drinks that will possibly involve selling a kidney to pay for. I want to sit pointlessly in traffic wondering why the hell I haven't moved in 10 minutes. I want to meet my friends on a Sunday morning for ludicrous coffee that goes cold too quickly. I know some of these thing could still be possible but my fonder memories involve my friends and how we lived at the time, some aren't around anymore (God rest them) and the ones that are have all got older - not so much wiser but older nonetheless and, like photos - we've all developed. We've become the people we were fighting off becoming as students - we've become.......grown ups.
Monday, 10 March 2008
Ashes to ashes...rust to rust.
Fritz is ill.... again. In fact Fritz may not be long for this world given the ailments currently plaguing him. He cant get warm, he has an uncontrollable rear end, tinnitus, baldness and me for an owner. Fritz is inanimate - so please don't go calling the RSPCA or the police - Fritz is my BMW and I hate him. I hate him so much I've even considered motorcide to claim on the life policy.
Make no mistake - do not let anyone tell you that BMW make a good car - they don't. They make a mediocre car worth about £2.80 then nail a BMW badge on it at each end which makes it worth about £9k. I'm still a little bit baffled as to how I came to own a BMW in the first place, I still blame them for destroying what meagre remnants there was of the British motor industry and the one car I truly loved, the Mini. They killed off the original (with help from the confounded EU) when it was still perfectly safe - although I'm sure Marc Bolan would disagree but I've totalled 2 of them and I walked away alright. Orthodox fans please don't write in.
Fritz has no soul - he's cold and emotionless and I hate that in a car. I suppose its a deeply male thing to form an attachment to your car. When I waved goodbye to my first car (Yes a Mini) I choked back tears - it was like losing a friend or a lover - someone else was going to labour their attention on it instead of me. I'd never see it again. I spend a lot of time in my car and as such I do form an attachment to them, we have adventures, we see different places in the country, we've had laughs and tears. I talk to them, If we see a bump I'll say 'That looks nasty doesn't it? Glad it wasn't us' But Fritz, hmm I feel nothing - he is exactly what he says on the tin - a car, a vehicle, my mode of A-B.
BMW have a supposed reputation for being 'The ultimate driving machine' cobblers - whoever coined that phrase has never driven a Saab Turbo - I have and can say that THAT is the ultimate driving machine. Fast, Sleek, Reliable as a Swiss watch and comfortable. Fritz is Sluggish, Boxy, as temperamental as a pitbull and has a ride that's akin to riding on the back of a flatbed truck on a cobbled road when you have a fractured neck.
So now Fritz has incurred my displeasure - it's not really his fault, I chose him and I shouldn't have done, he's getting on and is tired. But, Sven his predecessor had been to the moon when i bought him (204000 miles) and after 3 years of zooming all over the country Up as far as Manchester and it could find its own way to around and from London. we'd clocked up another 40000 miles together. and yet Sven was still taut and lean and always ready to go. Fritz more often than not grumbles, groans, complains and I just swear.
So when Fritz does leave me I will shed no tears - it really will be ashes to ashes, rust to rust.
Make no mistake - do not let anyone tell you that BMW make a good car - they don't. They make a mediocre car worth about £2.80 then nail a BMW badge on it at each end which makes it worth about £9k. I'm still a little bit baffled as to how I came to own a BMW in the first place, I still blame them for destroying what meagre remnants there was of the British motor industry and the one car I truly loved, the Mini. They killed off the original (with help from the confounded EU) when it was still perfectly safe - although I'm sure Marc Bolan would disagree but I've totalled 2 of them and I walked away alright. Orthodox fans please don't write in.
Fritz has no soul - he's cold and emotionless and I hate that in a car. I suppose its a deeply male thing to form an attachment to your car. When I waved goodbye to my first car (Yes a Mini) I choked back tears - it was like losing a friend or a lover - someone else was going to labour their attention on it instead of me. I'd never see it again. I spend a lot of time in my car and as such I do form an attachment to them, we have adventures, we see different places in the country, we've had laughs and tears. I talk to them, If we see a bump I'll say 'That looks nasty doesn't it? Glad it wasn't us' But Fritz, hmm I feel nothing - he is exactly what he says on the tin - a car, a vehicle, my mode of A-B.
BMW have a supposed reputation for being 'The ultimate driving machine' cobblers - whoever coined that phrase has never driven a Saab Turbo - I have and can say that THAT is the ultimate driving machine. Fast, Sleek, Reliable as a Swiss watch and comfortable. Fritz is Sluggish, Boxy, as temperamental as a pitbull and has a ride that's akin to riding on the back of a flatbed truck on a cobbled road when you have a fractured neck.
So now Fritz has incurred my displeasure - it's not really his fault, I chose him and I shouldn't have done, he's getting on and is tired. But, Sven his predecessor had been to the moon when i bought him (204000 miles) and after 3 years of zooming all over the country Up as far as Manchester and it could find its own way to around and from London. we'd clocked up another 40000 miles together. and yet Sven was still taut and lean and always ready to go. Fritz more often than not grumbles, groans, complains and I just swear.
So when Fritz does leave me I will shed no tears - it really will be ashes to ashes, rust to rust.
Sunday, 9 March 2008
Easy like Sunday Morning....???
Sunday; allegedly a day of rest. Not so, this morning dripping wet from the shower I was interrupted by a knock at the front door. I hurriedly throw on a robe and dash down the stairs almost killing myself in the process getting the cord wrapped round one of my ankles as I career down the stairs whip open the front door and whose there??
Good Morning! have you considered the life everlasting? (cue inane grin and offer forward leaflet of Jesus on the cross) - Yup its the good ole Jehovah's Witnesses! Now, as reasonable as I am I do not appreciate being disturbed from my gentle start to the day, almost committing Hare Kare in my quest to answer the door only to be asked if I have thought about dying and going to heaven - thanks to you mate I've just come closer to that than I am comfortable with.
They look a little crest fallen as I glower at them before muttering 'Oh piss off' and shutting the door whilst dripping on the mat and suddenly realising that it may be sunny but when you're a wet male in a draft - IT'S COLD!
Don't get me wrong I acknowledge and respect peoples religious beliefs, but what I take exception to is the door-to-door recruitment campaign. Am I to expect a knock later on from Pope Ben the umpteenth? The Arch-Bishop of Canterbury? Rabbi Blue? Guru Yahooroo? NO I'm not - so why bother??
I'm a big boy now so believe me if I suddenly get the urge to find religion I'm sure I can look in the Yellow Pages and find one that's going to suit.
Now as I say I'm not religious - I come from a family whose idea of Sunday morning is not getting up before 10.30 and then having breakfast. On forms when asked for religious beliefs I think that there should be tick box alongside all the others labeled 'Default' - but then this could also be C of E. They don't expect to see you every week but they'll always marry you and bury you if asked.
If I'm on a plane over the Atlantic and Captain Kamikazi comes on the blower saying 'Good morning ladies and gentlemen we are now flying at 35000 feet, however TORA TORA TORA!' and we drop to 12 feet you better believe I'm praying right? But who to? On the last census there was a move for people - of a certain nature/mentality, to input in the box marked religion, 'Other' and then specify 'Jedi' as if a certain percentage of people put this it has to be recognised as a religion. So who's God in this religion then? Alec Guiness? Ewan McGregor? Sorry but I ain't praying to George Smiley or Renton if that's what it takes. Wheres the churches going to be? Space? You've got to admit that that's gonna be a sod of a commute come Sunday - but at least it will be easy to park.
So now it approaches the time where I head to my Mothers for dinner and to be subjected to Dancing on Ice, Song of Praise before my father grabs the remote muttering 'no fear', or the play along 'Antiques Roadshow' cue quips from the table of 'I wouldn't give you a fiver for that mate' or 'That'll be flogged within the week' then invariably a continuation of touchy feely rot that somehow seems to prevail on a Sunday night schedule. No wonder the pubs are full........Amen.
Good Morning! have you considered the life everlasting? (cue inane grin and offer forward leaflet of Jesus on the cross) - Yup its the good ole Jehovah's Witnesses! Now, as reasonable as I am I do not appreciate being disturbed from my gentle start to the day, almost committing Hare Kare in my quest to answer the door only to be asked if I have thought about dying and going to heaven - thanks to you mate I've just come closer to that than I am comfortable with.
They look a little crest fallen as I glower at them before muttering 'Oh piss off' and shutting the door whilst dripping on the mat and suddenly realising that it may be sunny but when you're a wet male in a draft - IT'S COLD!
Don't get me wrong I acknowledge and respect peoples religious beliefs, but what I take exception to is the door-to-door recruitment campaign. Am I to expect a knock later on from Pope Ben the umpteenth? The Arch-Bishop of Canterbury? Rabbi Blue? Guru Yahooroo? NO I'm not - so why bother??
I'm a big boy now so believe me if I suddenly get the urge to find religion I'm sure I can look in the Yellow Pages and find one that's going to suit.
Now as I say I'm not religious - I come from a family whose idea of Sunday morning is not getting up before 10.30 and then having breakfast. On forms when asked for religious beliefs I think that there should be tick box alongside all the others labeled 'Default' - but then this could also be C of E. They don't expect to see you every week but they'll always marry you and bury you if asked.
If I'm on a plane over the Atlantic and Captain Kamikazi comes on the blower saying 'Good morning ladies and gentlemen we are now flying at 35000 feet, however TORA TORA TORA!' and we drop to 12 feet you better believe I'm praying right? But who to? On the last census there was a move for people - of a certain nature/mentality, to input in the box marked religion, 'Other' and then specify 'Jedi' as if a certain percentage of people put this it has to be recognised as a religion. So who's God in this religion then? Alec Guiness? Ewan McGregor? Sorry but I ain't praying to George Smiley or Renton if that's what it takes. Wheres the churches going to be? Space? You've got to admit that that's gonna be a sod of a commute come Sunday - but at least it will be easy to park.
So now it approaches the time where I head to my Mothers for dinner and to be subjected to Dancing on Ice, Song of Praise before my father grabs the remote muttering 'no fear', or the play along 'Antiques Roadshow' cue quips from the table of 'I wouldn't give you a fiver for that mate' or 'That'll be flogged within the week' then invariably a continuation of touchy feely rot that somehow seems to prevail on a Sunday night schedule. No wonder the pubs are full........Amen.
And so it begins....
So as I sit here and start on what I hope will help me vent my thoughts feelings and emotions without fear of reprisal, chastisement or anything else, I feel strange. There's an excitement inside me; for hours I've sat up and thought about some of the things I want to write about, mentally creating, editing and polishing what will get put to print.
Whats that you say? Who am i? well i hope that in time those that read this can answer it - we'll see.
I cannot currently say what my relationship status is as to be perfectly truthful - I honestly don't know. My Child's Mother or MCM as she will be known and I argued, and she said it was over - again. However, as she is MCM there is obviously going be be a bond twixt us for the rest of our lives. That was a few weeks ago and now that the dust seems to be settling I cannot see clearly if we are drifting back together or we are being civil for the sake of My Little Angel or MLA. This is not the first time we have split up, this time however there are times I don't know how I feel about it. I will obviously love her all my days as she is MCM and we have MLA, but there are times that I don't know if i am IN love with her - and I'm sure she feels the same.
Easter is bearing down and we are due to meet and have a 'pow-wow' whereupon we will go out, have dinner, drink and talk about how we feel and how we see the future, whether it be together, apart, and obviously how this affects MLA. This will be interesting, communication is an integral part of any relationship but, and this is a crucial but, we haven't or don't seem to be able to tell each other how we feel. On my part it's because I'm slightly concerned about reactions I'll get from my observations; how often I've heard 'Well that's your problem and you need to deal with it' My problem is obviously going to have an affect on us however and this in time will start to erode things.
So that's a background, in time this will start to unfold like an intricate piece of origami - maybe a more accurate description would be pass-the-parcel as no one knows for certain what will be revealed when the music stops playing....
Whats that you say? Who am i? well i hope that in time those that read this can answer it - we'll see.
I cannot currently say what my relationship status is as to be perfectly truthful - I honestly don't know. My Child's Mother or MCM as she will be known and I argued, and she said it was over - again. However, as she is MCM there is obviously going be be a bond twixt us for the rest of our lives. That was a few weeks ago and now that the dust seems to be settling I cannot see clearly if we are drifting back together or we are being civil for the sake of My Little Angel or MLA. This is not the first time we have split up, this time however there are times I don't know how I feel about it. I will obviously love her all my days as she is MCM and we have MLA, but there are times that I don't know if i am IN love with her - and I'm sure she feels the same.
Easter is bearing down and we are due to meet and have a 'pow-wow' whereupon we will go out, have dinner, drink and talk about how we feel and how we see the future, whether it be together, apart, and obviously how this affects MLA. This will be interesting, communication is an integral part of any relationship but, and this is a crucial but, we haven't or don't seem to be able to tell each other how we feel. On my part it's because I'm slightly concerned about reactions I'll get from my observations; how often I've heard 'Well that's your problem and you need to deal with it' My problem is obviously going to have an affect on us however and this in time will start to erode things.
So that's a background, in time this will start to unfold like an intricate piece of origami - maybe a more accurate description would be pass-the-parcel as no one knows for certain what will be revealed when the music stops playing....
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