Ken Dodds dads dogs dead

Hudson - run a bypass

2005-08-16T15:08:00.000+01:00

Just back from l'hospital and guess what? I don't have cancer.
I hate Tuesdays as a rule, so its cool that this one has upped and bucked the trend.
Finding my black and bobbly little friend (lets call him Solomon) about a month ago was a surprise and watching with dread fascination as he doubled in size and grew increasingly nasty looking was enough to set my fiendish imagination into overdrive. It's no party staring death in the face especially when he is growing on your calf.
Anyway, it turns out in this instance I wasn't being wet (Grrrr), the doctor concurred that Solomon had to go and chopped him out to be sent off for a biopsy. It is with great relief that I announce I am not about to depart this mortal coil and the bump in my leg is now and ex-bump. And a benign one at that.
Solomon has left the building.

What is a Fact?

2005-08-10T16:14:00.000+01:00

Alkaline Trio rock. That is a fact.

You are NOT my fellow Deejay...

2005-08-08T14:47:00.000+01:00

Stag weekends are a curious phenomenon. A license to spend fantastical amounts of cash on hardcore hedonism, justifying it too yourself (and bank manager) on the grounds that your mate is getting hitched and you have to give him the proper send off.
This weekend reached galactic proportions, culminating in me falling asleep in the queue to a club called Spaced because I was so battered after a night of jumping up and down and abusing myself my brain decided to take time out and spontaneously shut down.
If you haven't already guessed, yes I was in Ibiza and it did beat me, chew me up and spit me out. I embraced all aspects of its culture in a way that I hadn't done since my giddy university days and am now a broken man.
How people do this for a week I will never know.

Hullo clouds, hullo sky

2005-07-22T12:09:00.000+01:00

These bombs are really starting to tick me off. I have been walking to work for two years in the vain hope that it will halt my encroaching bulge. Belt issues have decreed that exercise must be taken and being no gym bunny the long walk each morning was the logical step.
As of two weeks ago my park is suddenly over run with newbies, all acting like they own the place. I see the old schoolers now and I feel a certain camaraderie with them. Probably just like back in 'nam.
But what is the etiquette between walkers? Being grossly over-English I fear eye contact with strangers and so I come across as unfriendly. The truth of it is that I would like to say hello to my fellow walkers (barring newbies) but now too much time has passed. To break silence at this stage would border on stalking. What a quandry.

A shock to the system

2005-07-19T15:41:00.000+01:00

I have been stuck in a pinball machine. I don't know what it's called, but its probably something like "everyone is having weddings, stags, engagements, christenings etc (except me)". Catchy title.
The last four months have been spent watching my nearest and dearest get hitched or breed. Everyone appears to be excelling at getting on with their lives.
I know I feel like I am. I get up and go to work. I go out everynight and meet new people. Maybe my working life is "getting on". That's something to hang on to, but I would rather be spiritually happy (That sounds wanky doesn't it? Like I'm about to put on a toga or something) than financially.
My friend WC remarked on the A40 yesterday that she was thinking of marrying her ex because she would be financially secure.

'WHAT?? But he made you miserable!! He made you cry!! .....All the time!! How can you think of getting back together with him?'

'I know' she says 'but I'm just so tired of being by myself.'

This is unacceptable behaviour in my book, and brings me round to the point I was going to make. In the spirit of the last four months I have another wedding to go to next Saturday. Sorry, I HAD a wedding to go to until this morning when I found out the groom had pulled the plug.
Now it could be argued that this makes him a selfish bastard, but I can't help admire his balls. I know I've never been in this position but I kind of admire him for doing what he thought was right. He didnt love her anymore so he decided not to spend the rest of his life with her.

Thats not to say he's not a complete divot for not having done it a year ago but you get my point.

Unaccustomed as I am....

2005-03-09T14:02:00.000Z

C., my best friend of 26 years rang this morning with news. He's getting married. This in itself is fantastic news as she's a great girl, they make a great couple and will I'm sure make beautiful babies together, but its a double edged sword because I've got to be best man. Again.

Giving a Speech is a sure fire way to ruin an otherwise fun day, like on my brothers wedding day when I previously had the "honour". The worst part is, I was so nervous on the day there was no point trying to hide it. My face was a deeply unattractive verdant green and I felt sick. In the end though I dug my own grave because it ended up being quite funny. Well, everyone laughed in the right places, and I didn't offend anyone anyway.

This doesn't mean that I am happy to do it again though. Word has spread amongst those that didn't attend that despite my vocal misgivings the speech was a success, and this only piles on more pressure. What could be more terrifying than having a tent full of friends and family willing you to make them laugh? It is not an ideal situation.

Anyway. Enough about that. More pertinently I have issues closer to home to deal with today. Tonight I am going on my first ever blind date and I am a little anxious. Spooked even. Whjat if we don't gel? I am locked into dinner with this girl. What if it is one long uncomfortable silence?
If you ask someone out to dinner you have at least had a few minutes to meet, talk, look into their eyes and know whether their is some chemistry there. What if she turns up and we have nothing to say to each other? Its going to be a very long dinner.

Eiffel. This is your wake up call.

2005-02-23T16:48:00.000Z

I feel like I have woken from a 2 month slumber. An eight week marathon hebetude. Looking out the window this afternoon and seeing the snow falling I was suddenly reminded of the final scenes of Edward Scissorhands. It was weird.
Luckily it didn't kill me, but instead has woken me from my nascent torpor. I feel an urge to run. Jump. Skip, and use words like hebetude. I even feel like going to the gym which is a either a good thing or a thyroid imbalance.
No guarantees that this will last, but right now I am all systems go. The all conquering hero. The master of my domain. A king amongst princes and a prince among thieves. Today is the first day of the rest of my life.
Now what to do?

Ich Bin Ein Londoner

2005-02-14T23:10:00.000Z

Man oh man Berlin is cold. I want this trip over, and a speedy return back to lovely nearly cold London. I'm not sure we know what winter really is.
On the upside it is Valentines night and I have an A1 valid excuse for not sitting at home like a total loser.
I've got all American on myself and booked a breakfast meeting for tomorrow. Imagine trying to make conversation with someone when you have only been up for about 20 mins. How can that possibly be a good idea? I suppose as long as I get through it without drooling my boss will tick the box marked "still trying" but I absolutely refuse to wear a tie. That is beyond the call of duty.

Zowie Cavey!

2005-02-09T16:09:00.000Z

Last night turned out a little surreal. I arrived at P's and immediately got into trouble for not noticing the new nose. New nose?? I thought I was there for a breast inspection? How could I be expected to clock a new nose as well? I am not qualified to spot these sorts of minor changes. Hairstyles maybe. Even the odd pair of shoes, but a new nose?? In the dark? Not a chance.
That hiccup out the way another hurdle presented itself. It was time to inspect her other 'work'.
It came as bit of a shock when P whipped up her top for said inspection. I mean - we are friends. Always have been, always will be, but their is also no denying she is very fit.
I suppose its a testament to our friendship that she also invited me to have a feel (she didn't even bat an eyelid), but as I said, I am a man and she is gorgeous so I tried to keep contact to a minimum as I tentatively poked (nothing more) her new... appendages.
Anyway. I could go on all day. Suffice to say they are very fine indeed and the doc done good.
The groovy thing is, its clear that they were something that P always felt she lacked and it was causing a big dent to her confidence. Last night it was apparant that said confidence was there in spades.

Climb every mountain

2005-02-08T11:45:00.000Z

Nothing P does could ever shock me. We have been friends for way too long, and i have seen her in too many pickles to be fazed by her looniest antics. Saying that, this morning she flew back from a three week sojourn in South Africa and dropped a bombshell that might just be the jewel in her already glittering crown.
I rang this morning to check in. Speaker phone on. She recognises my number and doesn't bother to say hello.

"Do you wanna see my tits"? Are the first words out of her mouth

Villaboy opposite spits his coffee across his brand new keyboard. I thought he was used to P by now but clearly not.
I pick up the handset to get the full story. Apparantly she was chilling in Capetown and decided (as you do) to have a boob job (they are a bargain over there darling!) and has now returned to show them off. The conversation ends with a summons to dinner to help install her new surround sound system. She tells me I should be grateful to get "first viewing" of her new toys.

I suppose life could be worse.

Coincidence or conspiracy? part 2

2005-02-04T16:59:00.000Z

The bar last night was teeming with B.Y.Ts. Vile bodies wall to wall. In amongst the fray and the achingly beautiful was an unlikely sight. An sprightly octogenarian, weaving past the bar like Leslie Philips post a ginseng enema. The moustache, the suit, regimental tie and twinkle in the eye. He ticked every cliche box, but he made it look good.
My date is intrigued and manoevers over for introductions. I hover. Feeling like a semi lost lemon.
We chat. He is very charming. It turns out he has lived in Switzerland until very recently.

"Oh yes"? I say conversationally. "My grandfather lived in Switzerland for 55 years".

"Really?" He replies sounding exactly like the Major in Fawlty Towers. "Whereabouts?"

"Oh, you won't have heard of it. Its a tiny little village in the mountains called C_____"

"But, but....!" He splutters. "My dear boy! That is my home! I ran a hotel there for 44 years! What is your grandfathers name"?

"F___"

"George? George F___?? But my dear boy. He is my friend! For many years! I actually bought my hotel from his mother. Your great grandmother!"

"Errr...." (At least I think thats what I said).

"I am so sorry to hear the news of his passing last week. He was a lovely man. My condolences to your mother and your Uncle, M___"

"Errr....."

I mean really. How weird is THAT??

Vachement Bon

2005-02-03T15:15:00.000Z

I read this letter in the paper today. It is worth a read.

Drinking the French Way
I am French and have been living in England For 15 years, and I am greatly enjoying the debate on binge drinking and the licensing law. It's always very exciting to watch the British people comparing themselves to other countries. And also very endearing because it brings up so many insecurities and vulnerabilities in you.
First, I wonder if there is not something genetic about the way you drink. We have alcoholics in France. In fact, I remember very well the couple in my family about whom I learned the lovely expression "l'ethylisme bourgeois".
Discreet, courteous, addicted yet never excessive. But even when its not bourgeios, I don't remember seeing in France the kind of violent behaviour I have seen here.
My second point is about heavy-drinking English girls who work hard and therefore want to play hard. Well, there it is. I think the Brits should work less hard. The Work ethic in this country is the problem. Protestant work ethic has always been a problem.
The longest working week in Europe, the most overtime, the most sick absenteeism and not the best-performing workforce either. There is a lot of guilt around work here, and not enough enjoyment.
If you want to learn to drink as we do, you must work less, you must learn to cook, learn to love to cook and to want to spend six hours in your kitchen, and to receive friends.
You must enjoy being lazy and taking a long time for lunch breaks away from the office. You must learn to love discussing flavours, tastes, smells.
Then, next time you open a bottle of wine in company, you may sit back on your chair instead of rushing for the next bottle. And without embarrasment, without guilt, you may exhale a great sigh, and sip, and take your time. Just take your time.

Crab apples in my cheeks

2005-02-02T14:10:00.000Z

Its been three weeks since la muchacha confusa said adios amigo.
I miss her and think about her alot but it is probably for the best. Unfortunately I also know that she is one of those people who responds better to being in Coventry (figuratively speaking of course. Responding to being in Coventry physically would be very very odd) than pursuit which only makes her more distant. This puts me in an interesting Catch 22.
By maintaining a no contact policy I am doing
a) the right thing (moving on, fish or cut bait, plenty more in the sea...etc).
but also
b) the wrong thing (treat 'em mean keep 'em keen. She'll be back....etc).
Hmmmm.

Tick Tock

2005-02-01T11:17:00.000Z

Ach. Season 4 of 24 has started on Sky this week and fellow office dweller Villa Boy is itching to tell all. His inadvertant gaffes have ruined three previous series to date so its only a matter of time.
My February resolution is to get out and meet more single women. Proactivity is key! Not using words like proactivity with these hypothetical women could also be key.
Incidentally Friday nights effort at pulling was an unmitigated disaster that ended with myself and Luigi retiring to Kebab Heaven, then returning home to wallow in our failure and general lack of mojo. The long version of these events is too hideous to draw out so lets leave it at that. This sort of behaviour is no longer an option in 2005.

Coincidence or consipiracy?

2005-01-30T13:00:00.000Z

Walking back from the coffee shop this morning I passed a man shuffling along in sandals and socks and scary 70's thick brown glasses. To my mind he looked like a decrepid violinist or conductor who had fallen on hard times. He was definitely Slavic.
The spooky thing is, I had seen this guy before. Three and a half years ago on holiday in Slovenia with the ex. (This may sound a bit odd but believe me, you would remember him too. Think an Eastern European Arnold Friedman on a really bad hair day).
If I were a betting man I would say the odds of seeing this man again were pretty slim, but the odds of seeing him again in the streets of west London were so vastly improbable they border on mindboggling.
Weird huh?

Its Alive!

2005-01-26T13:39:00.000Z

Yesterday I went to the doctor convinced I was dying. Its a pretty crazy secret to be living with a terminal disease, and I was of the opinion that my time in this mortal coil was on shakey ground.
I couldnt break the news to anyone. Especially not my parents, so I decided to keep schtum. I stoically (and rather heroically now I think of it) got through the whole Christmas/New year thing without saying a word. Nada. Niet. Nothing.
I don't consider myself a hypochondriac. I've never taken a days sick leave, but as life goes on you do become aware of your own mortality.
Six months ago my little finger started twitching. Just a little pulse in my pinkie as I clutched a glass of wine in front of the TV. I watched it curiously.

Thats weird. Its never done that before.

It was that very thought that triggered a memory. In LUCKY MAN by Michael J. Fox, he recalls the first symptom he ever noticed of his Parkinsons. Guess what? Yup. Twitchy little finger.

Oh Jesus. I've got it. I've got Parkinsons haven't I. Why me God? Why meeeeeeee??

You would think that it couldn't get any worse than that. But it did. Have you ever tried looking up symptoms on the internet? Don't. Trust me. You can REALLY freak yourself out. Parkinsons may be nasty, but there are plenty more out there and they KILL you. Multiple Sclerosis, Lou Gehrigs disease, Motor Neurone disease. They are all there for the taking, and if you panic hard enough...(by this I mean panicing so hard your face goes numb) you think you might just have one of them.
This was the future facing me as I trepidatiously entered the surgery yesterday. I managed to hold it together and describe my symptoms in a clear and controlled voice. I mean - I thought I might only have months to live. A few taps here and a couple of prods there and guess what? Apparantly I am not dying after all. I just freaked myself out because I didn't talk to anyone about it.
Oh well. You live and learn.

Hows the weather?

2005-01-25T13:43:00.000Z

Grey and Boring.
So speaketh the Ordinary Boys. For some reason this rather apt chorus has dropped anchor in my brain and is showing no sign of moving on.

Grandpa

2005-01-24T14:19:00.000Z

Yesterday started well. Lunch in Camberwell, with L and S. Bloody Marys, Roast lamb, and litres of red wine on a drip feed. Just what was needed to shake off Saturdays excesses.
Finally outstayed my welcome, and started heading home about 6.30. Walked in just as my phone was ringing. It was Mum. My Grandfather had died at 4am that morning.
Dont really know what to think, as for some reason it hasn't upset me. I don't know why.

How do mathematicians solve constipation?

2005-01-22T16:55:00.000Z

I've never aspired to be a geek, but the last three days have taught me that even if I wanted to be I couldn't. Dealing with technology freaks me out and sends my head into a spin. I just went into the template section and nearly had an aneurism looking at all that coding. Maybe somethings were meant to remain a mystery.
Its all good though. Venting spleen electronically yesterday was a pretty cool experience and I feel much better for it. I really dont know why I should feel weird about her getting married. I broke up with her not the other way around. Anyway, enough about that. Woosahhh.....happy thoughts....

You, me, Dinner?

2005-01-21T18:25:00.000Z

I thought I'd found the one, the F.M.E. last year and then she turned around and said she was confused. I didn't think that ever actually happened. Confused about what? You either like someone or you don't, don't you?
I mean, she was crying when she said it. So thats got to be a positive (you know what I mean...) but shes still confused and she needs some space....

...So its back to drawing board.
You date. Furiously. Its exciting! The potential discovery of THE ONE. She is going to complete your life and make everything smell of...something good anyway.
Three months go by. You are still dating. Furiously? No. Moderately. You are feeling pretty broke and exhausted from the stimulating conversations pieces your are having to dredge up from your neurons twice a week. Then you find someone who seems to like you. She neeeaarly fits the bill and so you go out for a couple of months. In the beginning its fun. Really. It is. You start to imagin that maybe this could work. There could be something in this.

I think I may be starting to like this girl?

But you can't force it. It doesn't work like that. So of course it goes tits up, and then I'm back on the pull.
My ex just rang. She's getting married.

London Calling

2005-01-20T17:35:00.000Z

Wooooh - four hours on the set up site and finally I make it happen. My first posting as a blogger. Feeling kinda nervous. Butterflies in my stomach. Reminds of that time when I was 11 and asked Katie Howard to dance at the school disco. Hopefully this experience will turn out better than that one.