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Take from here.

Posted here.

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OUCH!

Clicky clicky

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And no, it's not just about bcuk!

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As seen at the bottom of this blog and every blog on this server:

The content of this website belongs to a private person, blog.co.uk is not responsible for the content of this website.

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Dear Landersuk,

It's welcoming to see you over reacting about blog tags (even if you have deleted the entry and images) because I can see it means you're leaving blog.

This is something many people have been looking forward to.

Your humour is not a pleasant one and rarely funny and I speak for many when I say it will not missed.

Neither will your language which is always disgusting.

The disappearance of you and your arrogance and righteousness will lift blog.co.uk and bring it back to the place it used to be before you joined.

I'm not going to go on as I know you're going to do a blog entry about this, hence the fake email address as I know you'll publish it, but I think I speak for all of blog.co.uk when I say you really will not be missed.

Goodbye.

My reply:

Hello RT.

I'm calling you RT as your email address was just that repeated over and over again. I doubt those are your actually initials and I think it has more to do with them being next to each other on the keyboard.

So you think I'm over-reacting over the tags. Well you're entitled to that opinion and I'm quite sure you're not alone in those thoughts. I'm damn sure there are many others who think I'm over-reacting. So be it. I don't really care. I don't think I am over-reacting and I have my reasons for being incredibly pissed off about it.

Sorry to disappoint you but I haven't actually deleted the entry, it's just currently private. The people at BCUK weren't happy with me for that entry and have asked me to delete. I've stated that I'm just giving my opinion and there is nothing they can really do about that but while it's in discussion between myself and them I'm happy to keep it private until a decision is made.

What makes you think I'm leaving? I'm going to change the way I write in this blog but the Bloscars will stay, as will I. I might move the Friday Five and the Cunt List (something you could be on!) to another server but I'm not leaving. I am cancelling my pro account and going to a free one as BCUK don't deserve my money anymore but I'm not actually leaving. Again, sorry to to disappoint you. It's really not your day is it?!

My humour is just that, it's my humour. If you don't like then don't read. My humour can often be sick and twisted and is mostly sarcastic (I think) and most people seem to accept it. If they don't then they don't read, I assume.

Yes, my language is disgusting. You're right about that one. There is a word there you should pay attention to. MY language. How I want to speak on my blog is up to me. It won't change. If you don't like it then fuck off you ignorant cunt. (Do you see what I did there? I used bad language! Ooooh me, I'm sure a rascal!)

Yes I'm arrogant, yes I'm righteous but I admit these things. Agains it all comes back to this being my blog. It's my area to write. If you don't like then don't read!

For the love of God is this not a simple concept to understand? There are many blogs I can't stand so I don't fucking read them! Why if you don't like mine do you continue to read? Are you slightly fucking retarded? Are you incapable of understanding that very simple concept? Are you one of those people who I don't read and you don't like it?

You know, I might not be missed, oh well. This blog isn't written for the readers (anyone with half a brain would know that - have you seen the number of people I upset or disagree with? Would I do that if I was writing for the reader?) it's written for me! If I get no comments it doesn't matter, I'll still write. I don't write for the attention or because I'm emotionally damaged or socially stunted. I write because I want to. I like going back and readign old entries. I do it for me! I'd miss me and that is all that matters.

In conclusion fuck off you dumb cunt.

Love and kisses

Landers.

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So today we headed off to Enniskillen in Northern Ireland. For those of you that don't know (and yes there are some surprisingly) Northern Ireland is part of the United Kingdom but Southern Ireland (the Republic of Ireland) is not, it's a whole separate country. Bert and I live in the Republic.

On the radio last week they talked about how people are travelling "up north" to do their shopping, christmas and general grocery. I decided this sounded like a good idea so thought we should give it a try.

Enniskillen is only a couple of hours away from where we live and interestingly enough my maternal grandmother and all her family are from there so it was an extra special trip for me.

We set off around 7.30am and got to Tesco for 10am. We didn't even realise we'd gone across the border until we saw the PSNI station in Belcoo. The PSNI is the Police Service for Northern Ireland. They didn't want to be known as the Northern Ireland Police Service. The PSNI station is incredible. It's like a small prison! It certainly makes you feel unwelcome as you enter the UK but it's a left over from the troubles and as a border station has blast walls and bullet proof glass.

The Tesco store was laid the same as any Tesco store I've been in so we, thankfully, knew which aisles to head for.

Our purpose was to buy birthday, christmas and anniversary gifts and once we'd done that we'd do a bit of grocery shopping.

We had a nice slow walk round Tesco and then over to Asda and then into the Erneside Shopping Centre and by the time we'd finished we'd got a car full of goodies and sore feet.

The trip home took longer than the trip there as we missed two turns and really had no idea where we were going.

We unloaded the car in the rain and then loaded up with the stuff we need for tonight and tomorrow as we're staying with Mr & Mrs Duggan tonight and tomorrow Helen and I are having a baking day.

So there you have my day and I bet you're wondering why we travelled north to do our shopping given that we live in a very beautiful part of Ireland with every shop you could imagine. Well the cost was the issue.

I've already been told how I'm not supporting the Irish economy by doing this and I agree that I'm not but I have my reasons. I'm currently paying a pension levy on my pension contributions in my wages on a pension I will never get. This started in April of this year. In January we got hit with a 1% income charge to try and stabilise the economy and, as we all knew and expected, this failed hence the pension levy. Sadly the pension levy is only for those of is in the public service and in December we're going to get hit by more taxes. In one year my income has gone down by 12% and even though the government tell me that the cost of living has gone down and I can assure them it's not.

Fuel (petrol, diesel and heating oil) has all gone up, milk and butter has all gone up and alcohol has gone up. This list is not exhaustive. The only things I know that have down are house prices (we not buying yet), rental house prices (ours hasn't!) and clothing prices.

Great, so the cost of clothing has gone down but the cost of food has gone up! It's just as well it's that was round so I can afford to buy new clothes as I get thin from not being to afford to eat.

Cowen and his fucking cronies can tell me as much as they want that the cost of living has come down but the people they really need to tell are the shops! Maybe they'll reduce their prices then and prove him right! Until then my taxes think he's a lying cunt, just like the lying leader before him (I'm stating opinion there - mine, no one else's! I'm allowed to state my opinion!)

So once we'd bought all our christmas (and etc) gifts we bought some things from ourselves.

I'd now like to share five items from our shopping trolley.

1 x 250g Kenco Really Smooth Instant coffee.
20 x Tubes of Pringles*.
6 x 900g Tin of Cadbury's Heroes
1 x 1ltr Smirnoff Red Label Vodka
1 x 1ltr Teachers Whiskey.

The coffee cost £2.49, the Pringles were £1 per tube, the Heroes were £5 per tin and the alcohol was £20 for the two (on offer).

In total (just those items) cost us £72.49.

In Tesco Ireland same items have a very different cost!

The coffee is €4.50, the Pringles are €2.49, the Heroes are €12.49, the Vodka is €29.99 and the whisky is €22.49. There is no offer on the alcohol in Tesco Ireland.

That total would have been €181.72.

In sterling that's £162.40. That's a saving of £89.91 which is over €100!

Should we really shop in Tesco Ireland? I think not! This trip will now become a once-a-month spin. Not just for the shopping but so I can find my relatives!

* We bought 20 because they were so cheap!

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As seen here!

1. Do you have a favourite part of autumn?
No. I hate it. Wet leaves make everything too slippy!

2. "It's too cold to snow!" Do you think it ever is?
Yes.

3. Do you feel there is still a place for British Summer Time or should we just stop changing the clocks?
If only for tradition I say keep changing the clocks. Or maybe just put it forward once year! Every twenty odd years we'd gain a new day!

4. Are there certain meals you only eat in certain seasons (salad in summer, stew in winter)?
No, but 'im indoors won't eat stew in the summer. And I love stew!

5. Autumn is…?
Shit.

I think these appear more apt and would welcome them on the BCUK home page.

I'll remove ALL copyright for these. Feel free to use them.

Thank flick I've been keeping another blog via my own site! (http://www.iamlanders.com)

I'm not leaving but I'm cancelling my subscription and going back to being a free member. I'll still run the bloscars but will have to think of new ways to tag certain awards.

I don't see how it improves anything!

And what the flick does any of this means:

- Die Mindestanzahl von Zeichen für ein Tag wurde nicht eingehalten. Ein Tag muss mindestens aus 2 zusammenhängenden Buchstaben oder Zahlen bestehen (a-z, A-Z, 0-9).
- Das Tag enthält zu viele Wörter. Ein Tag darf nur aus maximal 5 Wörtern bestehen. Bitte trenne Deine Tags mit Kommas und nicht mit Leerzeichen.
- Tags dürfen nicht länger als 50 Zeichen sein.

I'm using a UK blog server and it should be assumed that my main language is English so send my complete message in English!

BCUK you flicked up big time on this one!

I've put up with pathetic stupid flicking messages from that dumb flick who lies about messages sent to her and I've ignore all her stupid attempts to get me off blog but all this by "The Team" has bought me closer to leaving blog that she ever did. She made me more determined to stay, even when she sent me threatening messages telling me how her friends know what I look like and are going to beat me up then she's going to cut me it didn't make me leave but this makes me want to delete straight away. You flickers!

What makes it worse, what makes it seem more rude than just a flicking improvement is that I can't even reply to your message to tell you I think those of you that made this decision are flickers!

See ya!

Hello LandersUK,

in order to use your tags to improve the searchability of your blog posts, it has been necessary to make a few changes to the tag system.

The changes are as follows:

- tags will continue to be separated by a comma
- a tag must consist of between two and fifty characters
- a single tag can consist of up to five words
- almost all characters can be used as tags, except and any other HTML code symbols

Unfortunately, these changes have caused some of your tags to be deleted.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The following are your tags were deleted:

Media Itemtag: 2

Blog Tag: i

Post Tag: k | blogger-you'd-like-to-know-personally | meno's-first-annual-numpty-awards-1 | meno's-first-annual-numpty-awards-2 | meno's-first-annual-numpty-awards-3 | meno's-first-annual-numpty-awards-4 | meno's-first-annual-numpty-awards-5 | meno's-first-annual-numpty-awards-6 | meno's-first-annual-numpty-awards-7 | could-you-say-fuck-some-more-please | before-you-tag-this-post-about-god-just-trust-me-god-doesn't-give-a-fuck-about-my-swearing | jesus-will-not-love-you-if-you-swear | i-hope-i-dont-get-fucking-sued. | i-fucking-hate-you-you-vile-fucking-tramp-whore | i-often-wonder-if-nick-will-ever-notice-this-tag? | he-didn't-notice-so-i've-tagged-this-one-as-well. | over-48hours-and-he-still-hasn't-noticed-folks.--do-you-think-he'll-see-this-one? | things-to-do-before-i-die | i-once-french-kissed-a-horse | the-moria-smith-forget-me-not-award | landers-is-a-working-girl-now-so-won't-be-about-that-much-in-the-day---i'm-sure-you'll-cope! | i-don't-know-what-to-do-anymore | wake-me-up-when-september-ends | i-have-no-idea-what-to-do-anymore | firefox-3-may-as-well-have-been-called-safari | what-did-you-want-to-be? | we've-got-mother-fucking-snakes-on-a-mother-fucking-plane | i-do-hope-that-vile-stalker-bitch-isn't-reading-as-that-would-piss-me-off-even-more | oh-shit-what-have-i-done? | you-don't-talk-about-fight-club | i-do-not-care-that-this-post-may-seem-a-bit-petty-i'm-just-in-one-of-those-moods-this-morning | some-stupid-cunt-is-trying-to-comment-but-not-getting-them-approved | i-have-to-wonder-if-one-of-you-will-copy-and-paste-this-to-her | i-wish-she'd-just-leave-and-i'm-sure-she-wishes-the-same-about-me

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The tags were deleted because of the following errors:

- Die Mindestanzahl von Zeichen für ein Tag wurde nicht eingehalten. Ein Tag muss mindestens aus 2 zusammenhängenden Buchstaben oder Zahlen bestehen (a-z, A-Z, 0-9).
- Das Tag enthält zu viele Wörter. Ein Tag darf nur aus maximal 5 Wörtern bestehen. Bitte trenne Deine Tags mit Kommas und nicht mit Leerzeichen.
- Tags dürfen nicht länger als 50 Zeichen sein.

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Thank you for your understanding. We hope you enjoy the new improved tag system.

If you want to read more about the new tag system, or give us some feedback on the changes, please click here: The Blog

Your blog.de team

As seen here.

1. Are you superstitious?
No but I do salute magpies because my nan always did.

2. Are you attending or hosting a halloween party this year?
No, I'm working and that's horror enough.

3. What's your favourite scary movie?
It's not really a scary movie but The Elephant Man frightens the bejesus out of me! I've never seen it all the way through and have had to watching it in three parts!

4. Trick or Treat?
Trick every time!

5. The best Halloween costume is...?
...made by Warner Bros costume department!

I have been watching the series Band of Brothers recently. A friend lent me the box-set after telling me how good he'd found it. I'm half way through and I'm throughly enjoying it but it's had an interesting but welcoming effect.

My grandfather was an engineer in the Royal Air Force, stationed in Burma during the second world war. My mother has all his medals and somewhere, I don't know where (yet), she has all the letters he sent his wife, my nan, during his time away. Sadly he died before I was born so I never got the chance to ask him about his war effort but I don't think I'd have got much information anyway as mom always said that he wouldn't talk about even when she asked. She's read the letters he sent home and from what she's told me Band of Brothers (although about the U.S. army and not the RAF) has it about right with regard to the friendships that grew and the hardships people went through.

Apparently in one of the letters my grandfather sent home he talks about a busy day maintaining aircraft. He recognised one of the aircraft as that flown by a pilot he'd become very friendly with. The engineers watched as the planes took off and hours later watched as they returned. Of course not all of them did, one of those was that of my grandfathers friend. In the letter he talks about how he can't afford to mourn his loss or take time to grieve as to do so would cause more problems. They prayed at a Sunday service and they remembered their lost friends but still couldn't mourn. He wasn't alone in this apparently. No one mourned for fear of breakdowns and becoming unstable and unable to carry out duties. In the letter he talked about how his squadron will mourn as a group when they return.

During the last ten months my family and I have suffered so much loss (thankfully none for at least eight/nine weeks now!) but I cannot imagine being surrounded by it on a daily basis, even more so when I can't mourn or grieve.

I once tried to join the RAF. I wanted to be a pilot. Not a fighter pilot, those kind of planes never interested me. I wanted to fly troop/tank carriers, the big buggers basically! I did an aptitude test, a medical and had an interview and at the end I got told my eyesight wasn't good enough to be a pilot but looking at my results someone had decided I was perfectly suited to be an engineer! You can imagine how excited my mother was and how disappointed I was. I didn't join up in the end, as I'm sure you've already worked out.

Having watched Band of Brothers, a series based on real events and real people (some of whom are interview at the beginning or each episode) I have a new found respect for the armed forces, then and now!

A friend I went to school with joined the Navy at sixteen and went out to the Gulf. He was on board the Ark Royal during the first Gulf War. He'll never know the respect I have for him. Mainly because we don't talk about more for reason I'm not going into but even though there is that wall between us my respect for him is higher now than it ever was.  Another friend is currently (as far as I know) in Afghanistan.  A place where 223 soldiers have died since 2001.  He's lost friends, people he cares for.   He could be next.  That thought scares me a lot!

I always buy a poppy and occasionally my nan (dad's mom not mom's mom) and I would attend the Remembrance Day service at the Garden of Remembrance where all our families ashes are scattered but I think this year, having watched Band of Brothers and talked more to my mom about my grandfather, I think it'll mean more than it has in previous years. I know that's wrong, I know I should have always had this respect and I think I have in someway, just not the right way and absolutely not enough.

These people fight for our freedom. They fight so I can enjoy my life. I may not agree with why we went to war in the Gulf, I may agree with Thatcher sinking the General Belgrano but no matter what I think these people, these members of the armed forces go into this career of their own free will. They make the choice to enlist and face the possibility of dying for their country.

To them, those from the past and those willing to serve in the future I say thank you. Thanks is all I can offer but if you're passing I'll pop the kettle on and I'm sure I could spare a biscuit or two.

And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon
Saint Crispin's day.

William Shakespeare's Henry V; Act IV, Scene 3

Bert and I have been getting in to Nurse Jackie recently. If you'll pardon the expression.

It's a half hour American comedy from Showcase, the same people who bought you Dexter. I'll be honest and say it's not as enjoyable as the adverts made it out as there are certain parts that are quite sad but when it's funny it's fucking hilarious!

And here for your viewing pleasure is one of the funniest scenes I've seen on TV in a long while. Even though you know what's coming it's still fucking hysterical!

Enjoy!

Reading Rampages post about being run over, other than making me worry about the little lambeen, it made me remember the times I ran over two people (separate incidents) and aimed at a third. You'd think I made a habit of it wouldn't you?! I assure you I don't!

Incident Number One
So there I am trundling along in my little 1963 Land Rover that didn't go very fast. If you got above forty the whole thing shook until it felt like your eyes were melting.

Up ahead a bus had stopped to let it's passengers off and as the road was clear I thought I'd over take. As I did a girl stepped out from the front of the bus, not looking where she was going, and I hit her. If you don't included the bruising or damage to her pride she wasn't really injured but there was a spectacular tyre mark up her tights.

She soon got up and appeared fine but the police had been called by this point so I was starting to panic. Thankfully she admitted it was all her fault and a couple of witnesses had backed me up. I was breathalysed, as per procedure, and given instructions to produce my driving license and insurance at the police station within fourteen days. The officer explained that there was nothing to worry about as she'd admitted fault and that the producer, like the breathalyser, was purely procedure.

Two days later I arrive at the police station with my documents and handed them over.

"You're in trouble!" said the desk officer laughing.
"No I'm not!" I insisted.
"Oh yes you are!" he said chuckling.
"No I'm not, she admitted it was her fault!"
"Yeah you're still in trouble."
"Why?"
"The girl you hit was the sergeants daughter!"

Trying to be all brave and righteous I muttered something about it still being her fault but inside not only was I bawling my eyes out I was also preparing to spend the rest of my life getting ass-raped daily by Slasher Joyce my cell mate!

Thankfully a few weeks later I received a letter telling me the incident had been closed.

Incident Number Two
It was 1am and I'd just finished a radio show which had gone well and was giving my guest, who was a good friend, a lift home. We headed through the one-way road system of the town and chatted generally about how the show had gone and what feedback she could expect, as she was hoping to get a slot on the station.

Without warning a man ran out from a side street on the right and I swerved to avoid him, veering (over-compensating) to the left.

We both spouted out some kind of expletive and once we'd calmed down Emma asked "are you not going to stop?"
"What for?"
"That man!" she said.
"What man?"
"The man you just ran over!"
"I missed him!"
"No you didn't! He was in the road! You went over him!"

I looked in my rear mirror and sure enough a different man was lying in the road. I think I shouted fuck or words to that effect but I couldn't actually get out the car. I was quite sure he was dead.

I rang for an ambulance and explained what I'd done and asked them to send the police as well and it was the police who turned up first. I got out the car and headed over to them but kept my gaze away from 'the body.'

"It's me, I did it!" I said with my hands up as though they were going to shoot me.
"You did what?" the female officer asked.
"I ran over him!"
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I hit him."
"You hit him?"
"Yeah, with my car!"
"Hang on!" she said putting her hand up.

She called her partner over and explained to him what I'd said and he came over to talk to me.

"Sir, you say you hit him?" he said.
"Yes."
"Just?"
"Yes!"
"Actually you just drove over his legs," said Emma who was now out the car and at my side.
"Did I?"
"Oh yes, just his legs. He was already lying in the road!"
"And you didn't see him?" asked the officer.
"No I didn't! I'd swerved to miss a guy running out of Edington Street!"
"Right, miss," he said talking to Emma, "can you drive his car round to the station please?"
"I suppose," she said, "but I'm not too sure where it is."
"You can follow us," he turned to me, "sir can you get into this police car and go back to the station to answer some questions."

As we pulled off I saw the ambulance turn up but I still couldn't look at the body of the guy I'd just killed. At the station I was arrested and read my rights and then taken to an interview room, Emma was asked to wait in reception.

A few minutes later the female officer came in and started to ask me questions. She explained how everything was really a formality as, even though they hadn't heard much of it, they fully believed my story and Emma had already given them a quick rundown (excuse the pun!) as well.

She breathalyser me, which was clear, and then wrote my statement out. It's been too long to get anyone in trouble (because Staffordshire Police read my blog! - ha!) but she kind of lead me along, making sure there was no way I could get into trouble about it. In another room Emma was giving her statement but she didn't mention the guy coming out from the right as she hadn't seen him. This didn't seem to matter.

Everything was going well. Too well. One thing confused me!

"Excuse me," I said, "if you didn't know what I was talking about when you turned up why were you there?"
"What do you mean?" asked the officer.
"I called you. I called the police to say I'd hit the man with my car but when you turned up you knew nothing about it!"
"Oh, we'd been called in for a riot in the chip shop!"

She continued telling me how they, two other cars and a van, had turned up to sort out a big drunken fight going on in the chip shop. The guy in the road had already had the crap beaten out of him and was lying half-in half-out the road with a dislocated shoulder. I just bounced over his legs!

I was relieved he wasn't dead but now felt really guilty for breaking both his legs.

"Is he seriously hurt?" I asked.
"Who?"
"The man I hit!"
"Oh no! As soon as the ambulance turned up he got up and ran off!"

I never heard anything further from this one.

Incident Number Three
Dale, a best mate (and still so even after this!) was living with me on and off and I had to go away for the weekend.

I was in the process of sorting lots of things out and the house was a mess. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that the only carpet visible in the dining room was a thin path from the kitchen to the lounge.

Dale was under strict instructions not to let Rachel in while I was away for the weekend. No matter what! There were two reasons behind this. One I won't be going to and the other is just that I didn't want her seeing the mess.

Back from my weekend away Dale, Rach and I were in the pub having a drink when one of them (I forget which) let it slip that Rach had been in the house that weekend as she needed to use the toilet. Rather than shout in the pub I got up, walked out and got into my car.

Dale came out and stood in front of the car, wanting to talk and explain. I was in no mood to listen so I started the engine and aimed for him.

Thankfully he moved out the way! I drove home, furious, but him and Rach followed me. While Rach sat in the car Dale and I sorted things out over a coffee on the back patio. I'm trying to make it sound posh but really it was just a little back yard. But it was nice!

I'm quite glad he jumped out the way really as he and Rach are the Heroes I talked about in Ma's post months ago as they're both paramedics, and very good ones at that!

I think he ended up with the right one!

Thanks to Malakeas for this wonderful idea.

----

My name is Rob and I will no longer tolerate online stalkers or trolls.

I will not feed their fire by responding to their comments or posts except in three ways:

1. I will choose to delete their offending comment if I can
2. I will ignore their comments/posts on another blog
3. And then, I will move on.

I will not give them blogging space or another thought for there are many other people here that deserve my energy and attention.

May this blogging community regain its blogging spirit and take back this community from stalkers and claim it as their own.

If you believe this as well, then copy and post this on your blog with your user name.

I really thought the first two would be very high!

Greed:	High
Gluttony:	High
Wrath:	Medium
Sloth:	Medium
Envy:	Medium
Lust:	Very High
Pride:	Very High

Take the Seven Deadly Sins Quiz

It's good when actors can laugh at themselves. I've been in a number amateur and professional theatre groups and I've loved every minute of it. Sadly in any amateur group there is always a couple prima donnas who think they not only deserve the leading roles but should have also have a dressing room of their own, often with a star attached. These are the ones, male and female, who get angry if someone cocks up during a rehearsal. If someone makes a mistake, forgets a line or laughs at an inopportune moment they are tutting and mumbling about who should have got the part. Of course when they forget a line or make a mistake it's the pressure of the role darling!

During a rehearsal for a performance of 'An Inspector Calls' in which I was playing Gerald Croft my on-stage fiancée, Shelia Birling, had the following line "He knows you know! And I hate to think what else he knows that we don't know he knows yet!" She found this hysterical and would begin to giggle every time she said it. Nothing could stop her! Janet, the lady playing the Birlings maid, a role she didn't want but took anyway, was furious! At one point, as the line approached, backstage we all heard her mutter in a stage whisper louder than her own stage voice "Do you think she'll fuck it up this time!" Well we never actually got to the line at that point because Ann (Mrs Bilring), Terry (Mr. Birling), Jayne (Shelia Birling), Simon (Eric Birling) and myself fell about laughing. Of course this didn't go down well so we took a break and came back to it later.

Thankfully most of the gags, gaffs, goofs and corpsing took place during rehearsals and once it was out of our system then the actual performances usually went on without a hitch. Unfortunately An Inspector Calls must have been cursed.

The set had been built to resemble a typical wealthy family dining room in 1912 and our set builders we're fantastic at designing and building sets so it look extremely realistic. Leading from backstage into the dining room were a pair of huge doors which the director had insisted were both opened when we entered the room. This was fine other than once we'd let go of the doors they slammed shut and made the whole set wobble. Mr. Director wasn't happy about this so David was ordered to find a successful way of making the doors shut quickly, without banging, without using anything that wouldn't have been available in 1912. In the end it was decided that as we stepped through the door we should turn, grab the door handles, and close the door firmly but gently.

Cue opening night. Ann, as Mrs Birling, flings open the doors and storms in to give her line. As she turns and grabs the door handles they both come off in her hand!  I'm stood getting a drink at the time (flat ginger ale as whisky)  so I turn my back to audience and try not to piss myself. Jayne pretends to wipe her mouth with a serviette. The others look around wondering what she's going to do. She calmly and strongly walks across the stages, slams the handles on the dining table and says "Arthur I'm sick of telling you to sort these bloody door handles out!" turning to me she continues, "Gerald maybe you could do it at some point as I can't trust that drunk of a son of mine!" She then gave the line she'd actually come in to for.

Only certain members of the audience actually realised what had happened and there was a small titter racing from the front to the back and that would have been the end of it. If it wasn't for Jayne! A very few short minutes later she picked up one of the door handles, thinking it was a salt shaker. Not knowing what to do she just shook it over her dinner, tutted and exclaimed it to be empty, slammed it on the table and carried on as normal.

During the interval Janet reprimanded us all for our on-stage conduct even though we all thought we'd done quite well. Ann got a round of applause and lots of "well done's" and the director appeared pleased with how things had gone so far although we could see him chomping at the bit with David on stage behind the curtain trying to reattach the door handles.

Now with theatre the sad thing is that these bloopers often don't get caught on tape. You only have the image I've created to get an idea of the mistakes made and how funny they are (well I think they are). Although you can still make your own mind up you can't see it or see how funny I think it is. You can't rewind to the funniest bits or skip the rubbish.

Thankfully, with film, you can capture those moments that make you giggle. In celebration of that (and the main reason for this post in the first place) here is something I was sent this morning that I find quite funny.

I'd just like to draw your attention to this blog: http://iandersuk.blog.co.uk/ and this user profile: http://www.blog.co.uk/user/Iandersuk/

Neither of them are me.

The L of Landers is a capital i.

This would be someone's idea of fun. I wonder who?

Anyway, the good thing is that using that header is copyright infringement given that I designed it so hopefully BCUK will furnish me with the owners details and then I can pass this on to my solicitor. And there was me wondering what I could do to get some money for a new car. Compensation would be the answer!

Of course they do say plagiarism is the highest form of compliment. Maybe I should be pleased?

It goes without saying that you should under no circumstance think this is me and ignore anything posted on it. I'm flagging it and inappropriate, I'd love you to do the same. It's infringement given that it's my header and my profile pictures.

As those of you who don't read me in an RSS feed reader can see I've changed my blog design. I've gone back to an older design I love I've just changed it around a little but changing the pictures. Two of them have come from what we did last week.

On Wednesday we we're back in Wales for the wedding of some close friends of ours. The friends are the dirty lesbians so it wasn't a proper wedding it was one of them there civil partnerships those disgusting queer people go through! Personally I don't think it should be allowed and I totally agree with what someone once said to me which was "all gays should be stuck on an island and left to bum themselves to death!" Well I'm in!

So the wedding was lovely. Both Vicky and Denise looked radiant and so happy! The registrar made the event go with ease and was very accommodating and as it was only a small family affair once the ceremony were over with we all went back to the girls to enjoy drinks and enough food to feed the five thousand.

Of course with these being our friends that breed labradors, bassets and Rottweilers then the obligatory moment with a puppy came later on in the evening.

Here's a few snapshots of the day and a puppy video to coo over.

So another one arrives...

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Author: fatprickpartridge (IP: 66.35.1.170, tor-exit-router.viol8r.org)
Email: anon@fatprickpartridge.com
Url:

Comment:
Hello fat prick partridge. do you still think i am in manchester? your not very clever are you? must be sad, being as fat as you, and being stupid to. maybe thats why you have to stay up all night on the internet. then again being as fat as you are your probably impetent, makes sense really. so that would mean it would only be a waste of time telling you to go fuck yourself, because i doubt you could, i really do.
when are you going to look at yourself and realise just what a totally dissgusting, degraded piece of shit you really are. have a nice night fat prick, maybe i'l see you around.

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They just get better! Well, the content does, the spelling and grammar doesn't but you can't ask for everything.

Well, I'll reply..

I never said you were in Manchester, I said the IP address pointed to Manchester. My IP Address points to Dublin but I'm not there jackass. No, it's not sad being fat. Haven't you heard? Fat people are jolly, it's skinny fucks that are sad. Stupid? Well that's a matter of opinion. I'm not the one sending these comments so who's the stupid one? Stay up all night on the internet? I was at work dumbshit. In my job I get to use the internet, I don't have to stack shelves or look for a barcode. It's a professional position. What were you doing? Hiding from mommy in case she saw you on the computer past your bedtime?

You know weight isn't associated with impotence don't you? It can be bought on by people who hold on to too much stress. I don't really have that problem as I don't hang on to my stress. Not even your messages stress me. You're upset about that aren't you. Never mind. When you're all grown up and not so much of a baby you'll get over it.

I don't think I'm disgusting, neither do quite a few other people. It's your opinion though, you're entitled to it. My opinion thinks that people will find you more disgusting than me.

Now, this will be the last blog entry about this situation because I'm not prepared to give it any more time. If you're her then grow up and fuck off you pathetic child. You bought this on yourself with your lies. Be a grown up and face the truth. If you're not her, and again I don't care, then be a grown up and show yourself. Roll with the big boys as you put it and stop hiding you pathetic wimp. Name calling and hiding behind an IP address? Is that all you can muster up? You fucking child. Bring it out of the playground you fuck whore! If you want to take it further you have my email address. If you want to remain the pathetic child everyone thinks you are then carry on with the unapproved comments. No one but me will see them and I don't care about them. You'll get no more attention here child. Now fuck off bitter baby.

Coming soon....

The BB emails! See how she cries over Robbie not loving her as much as she loves him! Read the things she'd do to the McFly boys! Listen as she tells you it's her last night on the earth... four years ago! And laugh as she explains its her mothers email address so to be careful how you reply! Each on in glorious detail, the to's and from's, the subject and the content! Read it all here!

Some of you will have noticed I've deleted a post.

The only reason was that I may have been mistaken about the author so to that end I've deleted it.

I'm now getting "harassed," as it were, from a blogger called Zukth-Fu.

I've flagged them as inappropriate and it's been deleted now, ether by the author or BCUK, either way is good.

The messages (unapproved blog comments) are going to continue, or so I'm told, because apparently he/she "likes pushing useless fat shits around."

If I'm reading between the lines correctly then I've already gone down in his/her/it's estimations by deleting the other post. Apparently it's back-tracking. Well not really dumbshit, it's correcting a situation. Something you and a certain skank should learn to do.

This idiot also seems to get enjoyment from calling me gay and fat.

But but but… pointing out the obvious… please don't, you might hurt me!

Christ, if you'd ever read my blog properly or even been told the correct information from the skank then you'd know things like that don't bother me.

At one point it says "thought I'd see if you could roll with the big boys" well love, the big boys usually know how to spell as they've finished school. The big boys don't hide behind a blank blog user id. The big boys usually put a face to the name. You're not a big boy. You're just a cunt.

I await the next comment, none of which will be approved.

Some background information. AlwaysHisGirl has a history of deleting her profile and setting up a new one on a whim. Previous incarnations have been BuzzzyB, Chocolate Buttons and Beautiful Mistake, as well as many others. In one of her earlier incarnations, a few years ago, we became blog friends and exchanged the odd email. I stopped replying when I got sick of seeing her profess her unending love for Robbie Williams and any/all of the McFly boys. This wasn't just a liking for them, it was full on stalker infatuation.

Eventually the emails turned into stories of self-harm and suicide. In any normal situation I'd have paid attention and maybe replied with something supportive but these were quite obviously the cold and calculated thoughts of a drama queen. I've done enough training in various aspects of of the topic to be able to tell the difference. In fact, when you know the signs it's quite easy. In the end I stopped replying at all and had most of them rerouted to my junk mail with auto-responders sent out to say it was being considered junk or just ignored. Still they came. The writing on her blog was of the same style, self harm and suicide, and again was quite obviously just someone out for as much attention as they could get. I didn't want to read the crap she was writing and didn't want anything to do with her so I bumped her from my friends list.

A little while later we had a run-in because she thought her opinion overruled mine. Take a look: it was ridiculous. She is the 'deleted user'. http://juzzzy.blog.co.uk/2009/06/25/michael-jackson-is-dead-6392147/

Last week, a 'new' blogger started commenting on my blog. From her writing style and, not surprisingly, her photograph, it was clearly her. Although challenged several times, she denied being the same person as all the other identities, but it's definitely her. Also, she has a much too intimate knowledge of Groups to be the new user she claims to be.

So. She was commenting on my blog, annoying me, and I told her where to go before deleting her comments. I thought that would be the end if it. How wrong I was!

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I dont feel very welcome here
by AlwaysHisGirl @ 08.10.2009 – 03:28:52
New private message on blog.co.uk‏
From: blog.co.uk (info@blog.co.uk)
Sent: 07 October 2009 01:31:55
To: me

Dear AlwaysHisGirl,
There is a new message waiting for you
in the Blog Messaging System.

From: LandersUK http://www.blog.co.uk/user/LandersUK

Subject: fuck off

You really are self obsessed stupid Fucking bitch! Stop creating new profiles, stop harping on about how Fucking bad life is for you, stop commenting on my blog, and my friend's blog stop being so Fucking pathetic, stop going on about self harm and suicide and stop annoying every one! Just Fuck off and kill yourself! . You are not welcome on BCUK!

so...
am I welcome here?
I am only asking because some say I am not.

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This appeared on the Ask or Answer group blog, the Stepping Stones (depression support) group blog, and apparently more than once on her own blog, as private posts.  Thankfully they have both been deleted.

A few points to bear in mind:

First and foremost, if I'd actually sent the PM AlwaysHisGirl is posting everywhere, I'd admit it. In fact, here and now, I am proud to say that yes, some of the words in that PM are mine. But, and this is a big but, I never told her she should kill herself, and I never told her she wasn't welcome on BCUK - just my blog. The capitalised Fucks? Not mine either. One capital F could be a typo, but all of them? It's a really bad cut and paste job. Look at the full stop/exclamation mark collision at the end - classic sign that a sentence has been pasted in.

I did tell her to stop creating new profiles but I actually didn't swear, at all. Strange for me I know but I thought if I sounded calmer she might take it more serious. I told her she was not welcome on my blog, not on BCUK. I wouldn't consider myself to have that right. I would also never tell anyone to kill themselves. I think the world and his mother knows that's not me.

Also, it wasn't a PM. I replied to a comment of hers on my blog, and then deleted her first comment, which got rid of everything that came after it. This means I don't have a copy of the comment I sent, unfortunately.

At the time I supposedly sent this message, I was in a bungalow halfway up a mountain in Wales with no landline, let alone an Internet connection. My iPhone was not online either, before you ask - O2 Ireland charge way too much for data roaming. The actual comment was sent and deleted on the 5th - the last time I had access to my laptop, which I left in Ireland.  

I think the most compelling evidence that AlwaysHisGirl is a total nutjob is here, though:

That is a screenshot of her profile page. If you look closely, you'll see that the link to send a PM is missing. It must be set to friends only. Now, as utterly fantastic as I am, even I can't magic myself onto someone's friend list in order to send a nastygram.

(click image for a bigger version)

The places she posted the edited comment were obviously chosen to try to heap the maximum amount of humiliation onto me. Well, AlwaysHisGirl is a nasty, vindictive, and apparently stupid individual, and I'm glad she's finally shown her true colours so publicly.

At least when I'm being a cunt, I'm honest about it.

I'm not asking anyone to take sides. I know she is on some of your friends lists but please just don't listen to everything she says and take it as gospel. Remember there are two sides to every story.

And to AlwaysHisGirl - as I know you're reading - if you want to carry this on then do so on your own blog in public entries like I am. Not on group blogs or in private. If you think you're so right then stand up for what you believe in and stop being a lying vile little tramp and hiding behind private entires. This best thing you can do now is drop it. Don't comment here, don't blog anymore about it and don't read my blog. I don't read yours as I don't like you, you don't like me so don't read mine. Even you should be able to understand that one!

This will be a quick post as I'm about to head off to the airport to head home.

There is currently a post on the Ask or Answer blog that is about me.

It displays a private message I apparently sent.

I'd like to say now, quickly, before I fly, that the private message displayed is a lie. I did not send a private message, I replied to a comment on my own blog.

Later, when I'm home, I will do a bigger entry and fill you all in on the actual story.

I'd like to say I don't care what you believe but I actually do and I'd like to think that those of you who have met me, who know me or have gotten close to me during my bloglife will be able to see the truth between the lies.

If her task was to piss me off then it worked and she can gloat in her satisfactionthat I'm angry, angry enough to go through the old emails she sent and go to the Tescos she works in and publically call her a bitch. I have five weeks before we're back in the UK so that's plenty of time Miss. Brown.

If her task was to try and make me leave blog or lose friends then I highly doubt this will happen.

I apologise if you feel you've been dragged into this.

Is up...

Over at http://PopQuiz.blog.co.uk/

Enjoy!

I sometimes wonder if my life would be massively different if I made choices other than those I'd actually opted for. It's not that I'm unhappy with who I am now, far from it in fact, but through-out the years I've had many and various opportunities that I've turned down. I've been a part of things that I either got bored with or decided were't going very far or I've stopped being part of something because something else came up that attracted me more.

I was once part of a stand-up comedy duo. A friend and I wrote our own routines, made our own props and became our own managers. I was the stooge and she was the straight-man, well straight-woman. We had a few gigs in various comedy clubs and actually did quite well even if I do say so myself. In the end my priorities changed and we called it a day. How far would we have got if we'd stayed together? Would we be on the big comedy circuit right now? I doubt it. There are too many good comedy acts out there, as good as we may have been I don't think we'd have been one of them.

I met Jo through a radio station I used to work for. Jo used to do the mid-morning show on a Monday to Friday and I would do evenings from 8pm to 12am. Sometimes I'd engineer for Jo as she wasn't fantastic at working the desk and couldn't cue up an advert for love or money. In the end we got offered our own show on Saturday and Sunday mornings. We had a lot of fun and in part it was this that lead to our stand-up stuff but the radio station was changing and neither of us liked where it was going. Jo had her daytime show taken off her when the station was sold to one of the major media companies and her slot was given over to the new station manager. My slot was changed from 7-10pm and Jo & I lost our Sunday. Jo was the best interviewer the station had and taking her away from the mid-morning show, our 3rd most popular show, was stupid. Jo left soon after and no one could blame her. I haven't spoken to her in fourteen years. I wonder what she's up to now.

I used to play rugby for the school. If I'd have carried it on would I be some hulking great rugby player now or would I be sat next to Martin Johnson as a pundit talking about the game we'd just watched. At my mothers house, tucked away at the back of a cupboard I have a medal for playing for playing for the school. I wonder if it's worth wearing it when Brad and I get married, you know how service men wear their uniform and medals. Maybe I should turn up in rugby gear.

There are many other things I've done that I could have done differently and many other opportunities that maybe shouldn't have been ignored but I am quite happy where I am thank you. Look at what I've got! How could I not be happy?

As some of you will know I'm a course through work. This course has eight modules to it and yesterday and today we began Module Two. Intellectual Disability Studies. 

What we have learnt over two days could have been taught in half a day. We were basically taught how to fill in a work book. A work book that comes with a second book. The second book teaches you how to fill in the work book.

This is why I've had to suffer a tax increase and pension levy! A pension levy that only health workers, teachers and the guards are having by the way! Why only us? Because we're public servants and our job is secure! No it fucking isn't! My job is just as at risk as those in the private sector! Wankers!

Anyway, aside from spending the 1st morning filling a page with stars we did actually learn a few things. Nothing eligible for work or the course but still learning is learning.

I have learnt that some people who work in our industry are judgemental bastards who may not harm a client or service user but given one story I've heard I have to wonder what psychological damage they are doing! Thankfully this is no one in our service!

I have learnt that he who shouts loudest wins. Wrong but true.

I have learnt that my manager, even with his faults, is far superior to others and I'm damn lucky!

All the names have been changed in the following stories.

Story One

Patrick works in a different county for a similar organisation. Every day he deals with young adults who need support due to a learning difficult or physical disability. A few weeks ago he headed off on a train to visit some friends. He told us this story:

"While waiting for the train two guys went passed me in wheelchairs. A train came in, not mine by the way, people got off and some got on and then it left. The two guys in the wheelchairs didn't get on. They head off the platform and as they passed me I said about how disgusting it is that they couldn't get on the train. They said they didn't want to they just waiting for someone and I said sorry as they head off. The next train comes in, again not mine, and a girl in a wheelchair gets off. She looks around as though lost and confused and I assume she's looking for the two guys. I head over to her and say "Your friends have just gone down there," and I point off the platform.
"What?" she asks.
"Your friends. The two guys. They head off the platform. I think they're over there," I tell her.
"I'm sorry I don't understand."
"Are you looking for two men in wheelchairs?"
"No!"
"Then why do you look so lost and confused?"
"I've got off at the wrong fucking stop!"
As I sat back down I saw the two guys on the other platform talking with a man who just got off the train."

When Patrick told his story the people sat around him in the lecture room actually laughed but talking to one of the other girls we were both amazed at his attitude. He'd made two incorrect assumptions that if he'd made at work he'd be reprimanded for. First off why assume that the guys couldn't get on the train just because they didn't? He didn't get on two trains! Should we assume he was stuck to his seat? Secondly how dare he assume that because she was in wheelchair she must be meeting the other guys!

Now, for someone who has never worked with anyone with any form of disability or had any connection with anyone with that background I can kind of understand how that assumption might be made and I'd be forgiving but this guy works with people who need support due to a disability! He should know better! How does he still have a job?

 

Story Two
Janet, like Patrick, works in a similar field with a similar client base in a residential house in a different county for a different organisation. There they have someone who goes home one weekend a year. The family have applied for a grant for an extension to their house so they are better equipped to cope with this resident when he goes home. He goes home without support! I don't mean that they kick him out the door and say "Seeya Monday!" but I mean that no staff stay with him. He has a sufficient level of independence and enough family support to cope without staff. So, one weekend a month a year he goes and home and the family are applying for a grant to deal with that weekend better. A grant of €35'000 has been approved.

Questions:
1. Have assessments been done of the family home to see if it's already suitable?
2. Have the family been assessed to see how good the family support is?
3. Has the awarding body seen the plans of the current home?
4. Has the awarding body seen the plans of the proposed extension?
5. Will the family take the client, their son, for more weekends once extension is built?
6. Has the client been asked if he wants to go home more than one weekend a year?
7. Has the client been asked if he wants to stay in a purpose built extension?
8. Has the client been consulted at all with regard to any of this.

The answer to all of these questions is the same. No.

Why is Janet not speaking up? If this family are getting the extension they should be able to care for the relatives themselves. From the way she spoke it sounds like he is independent enough to look after his own hygiene needs and can even make himself meals and drinks he just needs support in certain areas that even the most basic family could cope with - especially with a €35k extension!

Yet another reason why my wage packet has gone down by over 10% since April and will go down again as of October!

Story Three

Tommy used to work on the docks works in a similar environment to Janet and Patrick. His manager insisted that one of their clients be given a mobile phone and taught how to use it. Tommy argued there was no need but the manager forced his hand. Given how many times the client uses the house phone it was deemed that €10 credit a week would be plenty and the client was taught how to use it and how to top it up. Everything went swimmingly. The client knew how to use the phone and how to top up and knew that €10 a week was plenty. Six months later a review takes place, as it does with our service users as well.
"And how is he getting on with the mobile phone?" asks the manager.
"Oh fine. He puts his €10 credit on every Friday and that lasts him the week," replies Tommy.
"Can I see the phone?" asks the manager.
Tommy goes and collects it and hands it to the manager.
"How do I get the balance up?" he asks.
"I'm not sure," replies Tommy, "why?" "It's mid week, I just want to see if he uses it all by the weekend and has nothing for the week."
Eventually they work out how to get a credit balance. The balance is €236 euros. It would appear the client never uses it. There are only four calls in the call log, all to the house phone, all dated six months ago when Tommy was teaching the client how to use the phone. The client thinks that whether the phone is used or not he has to put €10 on it.

Whether you are dealing with someone with learning difficulties or not there is a simple thing you can do to make the person feel respected. Ask!

It doesn't matter if the person has a diagnosis of Autism, Asperger Syndrome, Fragile X, ABI or self-diagnosed fake bi-polar! You still ask, you don't decide for them! Even when you know they can't make the decision themselves you still go through the motions of asking because this could be the one time they know what they want and are capable of deciding! If I asked one of our service users if he wanted to get on the bus with another service user he'd say no! He'd flatly refuse! He knows his mind. He knows if he wants tea or coffee, cheese or ham and he knows what clothes he wants to wear. I don't make these choices for him. He makes them. He makes them because I ask him to!

Now the client Tommy was dealing with was even more capable of making his own choices than the lads I deal with. Our lads couldn't have a mobile phone. Three of them can't verbally communicate well enough and the other wouldn't be able to learn how to use it. The manager was at fault in Tommy's story and he should have been reprimanded for it. I agree that Tommy is partially to blame for this as he obviously didn't teach the client correctly but did anyone ask him if he wanted a mobile phone? No they didn't! The manager just decided to do it one day and no one could argue about it. With that in mind why did Tommy have to pay the client back €230? Just tell the client to start using the phone to use up the credit and stop paying €10 a week! Tommy argued but was told either pay it back or they'll take out his wages.

Fucking managers!

With what I've heard over the last two days I can honestly say the place I work in is fantastic. No, I'm not saying that's because of me, but yes I am going to take a small bit of that credit. The staff (99% of them!) are damn good at their jobs and they need telling that! Maybe it's the training we've had, maybe it's the support we get, either way I could happily assure all our families that their loved ones get the best care. Christ, we put up with beatings and go back for more! We get covered in shit and don't quit! We spend our own money on the lads and give up our own time to go out with them and not get paid for it.

We rule!

Sometimes I get bored.

Right now I'm on a course through work and during some group work, when we'd actually finished doing the work, me and another guy on the course got to talk about lunch and what we were planning on eating.  One thing lead to another and we started talking about the things we had eaten in the past.

I revealed that I'd once eaten what looked like a prawn cracker but turned out to be a sperm cracker at a fetish exhibition.  I've no idea what fetish this fulfilled but it didn't taste all that bad although I was little shocked when I found out.  

So as I'm as bored as hell here are some facts about semen.

Semen Facts:

- It can stain. Always wash in COLD water.

- A black light will show semen.

- A single ejaculation has an average of 200-500 million sperm in it.

- Semen is okay if you are on the Atkins diet.

- The average speed of a shooting ejaculation is 23 mph.

- A woman's mood can be elevated to 'happy' by frequent exposure to semen.

- Pineapple, watermelon, cranberries, and sweet fruit can improve the taste of semen.

- Semen is usually a cloudy white fluid that within 30 minutes becomes runny and clear.

- A chlorine type smell in semen is normal.

- The taste is slightly sweet due to fructose.

- The taste of semen tends to change slightly from person to person.

- A study conducted by American scientists in Newscientists.com among 30,000 men over eight years found those that ejaculated most frequently have had significantly less chances of getting prostate cancer.

- Semen contains small amounts of more than thirty elements, including fructose, ascorbic acid, cholesterol, creatine, citric acid, lactic acid, nitrogen, vitamin B12, and various salts and enzymes.

- Blue whales produce four hundred gallons of semen with each ejaculation.

We arrived to view the venue at 10.30am as booked and we're greeted by the duty manager. I knew the events manager wasn't available as she'd already told me the night before that she wouldn't be about but I only wanted to look at the rooms and maybe get a price so it didn't matter too much.

The events manager, Niamh, had told me that the dates I wanted had already been pre-booked by two other couples but they were only pencilled in so she'd call them to see if they'd made their mind up. I explained to her that I'd rather have my party on the actual date of my birthday what with it being a Saturday and all that but I'd be happy to change it if need be. I'd happily have it the week before or even week after if it meant I could have the venue I wanted.

I've been to the Galway Bay Hotel quite a few times now. The Duggan's wedding, meetings, nights out for drinks and such like and I've always been impressed by everything. Quite literally everything. The place always looks stunning, the staff are always nice and friendly.

It's all that which makes me want my birthday there.

It's all that which makes it so much worse when the treatment we got today was so awful.

I don't think I've ever felt more unwanted! If I didn't know better I'd swear she was trying to stop us from booking the place. I came home with a couple of brochures on a different hotel, miles away in County Westmeath, rather than gorgeous Galway.

I didn't get a price but I did get a brochure on booking a conference. Interestingly enough Niamh told me that if I wanted a seated dinner the room she had in mind will hold 250. I told her there would just be a buffet and she said that it would hold many more then. This was great as it was the room I wanted.CED736FFD/view-of-galway-bay-just.jpg" alt="view-of-galway-bay-just.jpg" />
Today the duty manager tells me it will only just hold 200 and not really many more for a buffet. The website gives a third figure.

She also told me that they try to save Friday, Saturday and Sundays for wedding so could I possible have my birthday midweek? Well no, not really, I want it at the weekend so my friends can come!

So now I have a dilemma. I really want my 40th at the hotel but I don't think I want the shite (look I said shite and not shit!) service or weekday party.

Do I compromise or do I find a different venue?

I think I'll end up finding a different venue given that I've still yet to hear off Niamh or anyone else. All I really wanted was a price but overtime I ask I get fobbed off with another question.

What makes it worse is that the course I'm attending today is the same hotel and I'm heaven. I'm sat in the lounge looking out over Galway Bay and the Atlantic Ocean and it's lovely. I want the bloody party here but I will not have it midweek. As if she'd even suggest such a thing!

Today I'm off to view the venue for my 40th birthday in 2013. Yes I'm planning well in advance but I want it at the Galway Bay Hotel and it gets booked up REALLY quickly. So quickly in fact that the date I want (June 1st) is already pencilled in for someone else, two people in fact, but she's going to contact them and see if they really want it or not.

So for your information..

Quite literally EVERYONE is invited. If you can read this then you're invited. Now although you're invited you will need a ticket. I need to know numbers for the caterers so I'm going to give out tickets rather than invites that way I can know who and how many are coming and I can stop gate-crashers. Yes, you will need a ticket to get in. No ticket, no party. Harsh, maybe but I'm paying a fortune for this place and the food and the entertainment so I think I'm entitled.

Well more details on how to get a ticket and all that will be available shortly but I'm off to look at the room now! Oooh excited!

Two facts about me:

- Sometimes the smallest things amuse me.
- I find some facts and figures interesting.

With both of those in mind I did some blogging research, which is something I'm going to look into on a bigger scale so expect a post begging for help.

With a certain blogger, who I just want to push underwater repeatedly until they promise to never blog or comment ever again, I found the following facts amusing.

- In the last seven days they have done twenty four posts. That's just under 3.5 a day.
- Of those entries only three got comments.
- Of those entries that comments there were only two unique commenters.

Of course all this is based on public posts as I'm not (thank fuck) privy to private posts.

Two things to note...

Number One - I didn't give the video that title.
Number Two - That's Galway that is!

 

Of my one hundred and eight friends…

 

 

- I've met 33.33% of them.

 

 

 

 

- I've lived with 2.77% of them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

- I knew 9.25% of them before blog.

 

 

 

 

- I've slept in the same room as 7.4% of them.

 

 

 

 

 

- I've had sex with 1.85% of them.

 

 

I've sat here for the last ten minutes trying to work out what to blog about.

I did have a clear idea in my head but then I started reading a few blogs and realised that if I wrote what I wanted to write I'd upset a few people and I didn't want to do that. I know it sometimes looks like I'm out to offend everyone possible but that's just not true. There are some people, some bloggers in fact, I'm quite happy to offend - anything that moves them further away from this blogging site is good for me - but I don't want to write something that may annoy friends or people I think a lot of. Especially when intonation can often be difficult to show in a block of text. I suppose I could tell you what I've been up to this week? Well, since I last blogged anyway.

Monday, our two year "living in Ireland" anniversary I did nothing but play World of Warcraft. I could have dome something more constructive but I didn't.

Tuesday I was in work all day. It was the 40th birthday of one of the residents in another unit and he was having a party in a local pub. Although all our lads were invited they weren't all going. Only one of them went in fact and I took him down there, walking instead of getting the bus. He had a good time, seemed to enjoy the music and the atmosphere and was golden on the walk back. More staff should interact with him like this but they don't and I really couldn't tell you why.

Wednesday I started my course that work have sent me on. It was interesting enough and I knew a few people there but a lot of the content is stuff I've done before in one life or another. Still, I'll come out of it with a nice qualification at the end.

Thursday I was off so I spent the day working on my web site and getting very frustrated with technology. One minute everything works fine, then next it decides to get up and walk out the room leaving me wondering what the fuck is going on! Technology can be like that. I'm still not sure who's fault the failures are but I know it's not mine or Brad. This is all down to the hosting company and ex-hosting company of our web domains. One is great but can't do much until the other, which is shit, gets doing as they promised.

Friday, today, I've had to call in sick to work I woke up with a pounding head. I woke up the first time at 4am and then again 6.30am and stayed wake then. I'm doing that a lot recently. Not sleeping and waking early that is. I did think that I wasn't sleeping because of the attack at work playing on my mind but since the meeting I've felt a lot better about all that so I really don't think it's that. I'm sure it'll come out eventually whatever it is. The last thing I want to do is start worrying about what is worrying me!

I'm off work tomorrow and Sunday but I have a project to work on for this course. I have to give a five minute presentation on anything I like as long as I can connect it to work. I've chosen sign language as I know enough about it and I can easily relate it to work. One of the ideas I've had is to actually sign the first two minutes or so of the presentation and use powerpoint to project subtitles and images etc. What do you think?

Well Bert is cooking a nommy nommy chilli for our evening meal so I'm going to go now and see how far he's got and what time it'll be ready.

TTFN

In the last two years I have:

- Not been offered jobs I was suitable for.
- Been offered jobs I didn't want.
- Seen Brad lose his job.
- Had a car breakdown on my three times within a month.
- Been attacked at work around twelve times.
- Been injured at work causing a hospital or doctor visit three times.
- Been disappointed by the ideal (or so we thought) house falling through.
- Sold a car and bought a car.
- Swapped a car.
- Had suspected viral meningitis which turned out to be two different things which together show all the symptoms.
- Made some great friends online and off.
- Been to Berlin twice.
- Travelled back and forth to the UK for one reason or another.
- Got to Level 80 in World of Warcraft.
- Seen my friends and family have babies.
- Seen my friends and family get married.
- Seen my friends and family die.
- Eaten just under a tonne of food.
- Slept approximately for 3650 hours.
- Watched every episode of Buffy, House, Supernatural, Fringe, Harpers Island, Prison Break, Heroes, Dexter and Ugly Betty.
- Got two years older.
- Lived in three different houses.

The most important thing I did in the last two years actually happened on this very day two years.  At 9.30am Brad and I set off in two cars packed with animals, plants and valuables to start our new life in Galway.

It's been fantastic.

 

Happy Anniversary to us

See more of these here.

I hope you're as amazed as I am!

In the March of 1994 I hosted my first Oscar's party. I'd seen the idea on an american television show at some point during the previous year and decided I'd like to do it. My partner was going to be away so I'd have the house to myself so I invited all my friends round. It meant most of them taking a day off work or college or uni but this would be a party fit for a queen, and they knew it, so most of them didn't mind missing a day. It actually turned into two days as they needed the day to sleep as the Oscars weren't going to be starting until midnight!

It was to be a theme party. One of many I attended or hosted during my twenties, in fact the last theme party I attended was my own thirtieth when the theme was dead celebrities. The theme of this night was "Hollywood!" - a typical Oscar theme really. Quite a few came as Marilyn Monroe and even more turned up as Clarke Gable but there was only one Errol Flynn.

In he walked, smooth and suave, really playing and looking the part. So much so that it took me a few seconds to realise who it really was. Ashley had dyed his hair darker, away from his natural blonde, and grown a real mustache rather than painting one on and in his suit he looked stunning as Flynn. He smoked once a month, if that, but that night he'd gone the whole hog and bought filterless cigarettes but spent the night coughing while trying to keep in character.

I hadn't told people they had to keep in character but Ashley had decided that if he was Errol Flynn for the night then he really would be Errol Flynn. His partner at the time, Ian, had come as Alfred Hitchcook with cushions stuffed up his shirt to fatten his very skinny figure out. He wasn't too thrilled to find out Ash was playing the part fully because that meant he go no "attention" all night. Well, not in front of the guests anyway.

Derek, the guy I was seeing behind my partners back (naughty me!), and myself had decided to come as failed actors so dressed as waiters. Derek's idea of wearing roller-boots didn't go down too well when he flew across the kitchen and threw lager all over Rita Hayworth (it's not often you can say that!). An hour later she was paralytic and taken home by her date anyway. Nicola her name was and no one liked her. She hadn't actually been invited but had invited herself and it was kind of hard to say no to her. It wasn't really that hard to say no, many people said it to her all the time, she just didn't seem to hear it!

As people had arrived they'd been given a sheet with the nominations on and had to tick who they thought would win in each category and as the awards ceremony started these were dished out for people to mark. I remember getting very pissed off when Laurence Fishburne and Angela Bassett didn't win but was pleased that Schindler's List took Best Picture. I can also remember getting very excited and emotional when Deborah Kerr got an honorary award as I'd loved her as Emma Harte in A Woman of Subsance and so had Ash. In fact the two of us, and just us two, cheered when it was announced. I don't think Deborah Kerr actually won an Oscar other than that one. I could be wrong, it's been known! I can't be bothered to check.

Hours later the ceremony had finished and those that were staying found a place to sleep, those that weren't said their goodbyes and headed home. Ash & Ian were supposed to be sleeping in the spare room but someone else had beaten them to it so the four of us top & tailed in the massive king size bed Paul (my actual partner) had bought a few weeks earlier. It was hours before any of us actually got to sleep as we lay there laughing and giggling about stupid things, all of us too pissed to care about sleep.

In the morning there were bodies lying all over the place and I hadn't realised just how many people had actually stayed over. The place was a tip with as many bottles lying about the floor as bodies! I heard Derek get up and get in the shower so i thought I'd join him rather than face the clearing up. The bathroom door couldn't be locked as the catch had been broken for months so I just tip-toed in and announcing loudly that he wasn't to drop the soap flung open the shower curtain only to find it was Ash in the shower and not Derek. He joked about me joining him but I left, giggling, and walked into the bedroom to tell Derek and Ian what I'd just done.

I've never once questioned why Ash & I didn't end up together. As close as we were it just didn't seem right yet I can often recall my mother, and his, talking as though it was a forgone conclusion. I guess fate proved them both wrong.

A few people helped clear up and once the place was back to normal we had something to eat and the headed off to the pub. Darts, cards and drinking games followed and yet another night stumbling home drunk and laughing about what a good night we'd had. Ash & Ian stayed again but this time they got the spare room as there was only the two of them. Ian took Ash back to uni the next morning and Derek took himself back to his halls of residence. The party was officially over, the house was actually clean, so after sorting out some work for later I say back and watched A Woman of Substance on videos that I borrowed (on a long-term basis) from my mother. I have them on DVD now, and To Be The Best, and as I write I'm thinking I may have to go and starting watching them once I've posted this!

N.B. It's been four months since Ash died and I still miss him and I still cry when I hear certain songs. If he'd been alive I probably wouldn't have spoke to him in the last four months anyway but I always knew I could. Now I can't and I hate it.

"How long will it take to get to the airport from here?"
"Forty-five minutes usually but as you don't know the road I'd give it an hour."

With this in mind I was content in the knowledge that if we left at 10:45pm we'd get to the airport in plenty of time. You can imagine the state I was in when at 11pm Brad was still munching away at steak/chop/kebab (delete as appropriate) from the barbecue and telling me not to worry and that we had plenty of time.

We did, but not because he said so, but because the flight was delayed. It seems every Ryanair flight anyone goes on, other than us, is delayed. Ours is always early or on time but never late.

I love meeting people at the airport. Seeing all the human interaction and knowing I'm going to be part of it soon. Seeing people smile as they step out of arrivals into the arms of a loved on. Seeing people nod as they see a sign with their name on and know they car must be for them.

Mostly I love it because it means people are coming to visit and I love it when then happens. Even when its people you haven't seen for a while, years in fact, friends who you really care for but for one reason or another you don't see as often as you should, if at all in some cases!

I've often found it remarkable how friendships built on one common interest can grow.

I joined blog many moons ago (when the "made by you" was "beta" and I was a founder member not a pro!) and began adding people to my friends list. They were only online friends though, not real people, so if I never blogged again it didn't matter. Then we got that step closer in AIM or MSN or GoogleChat and these people became semi-real. They were still only virtual friends and although I was growing quite fond of some of them they were still strangers to me who I only knew through blog.

Then I exchanged contact details with one of these virtual people! He gave me his phone number so I gave him mine. As nervous as I was it still didn't matter as he was still only a virtual person. Someone who was never going to ring as in the real world he didn't exist.

This changed when I looked at the screen and saw "I'm calling" in the chat window. I held my phone in my hand and suddenly got all nervous. "Brad, you know that scouser from blog, the one from the Wirral, writes for the metro or some other free rag up there?"
"Yeah," came his reply.
"He's about to call me!"

Before the conversation could continue the phone was ringing. I was half tempted to hang up and then type a chat massage to him saying something like "sorry, foster kids need me!" or something like that but instead I actually answered. What's the worse that could happen? We could actually become friends (lovers in the future x) and call each other again? We might meet? He was still going to be a virtual friend, he was still going to be that scally from blog!

A while later I made the mistake decision of doing an open blog invitation to my final birthday celebrations while living the UK. A few bloggers actually took me up on the invite. My real friends, those not virtual as the bloggers were/are, thought we were all swingers from some internet porn site but in reality we were a group of people with that one common interest.

These people, the scally included (who had an incredibly beautiful woman with him and I've still no idea how he managed that one!), suddenly became real. I'd read all about them, spoken to them on the phone, exchanged emails but now they were sat in front of me.

Things on blog really changed then. The people I was reading about became actual people. There were real, they had substance and I was beginning to feel ever closer to them. They, and others, became real friends.

"But how do you know them?" she'd ask.
"Through blog mother, we all blog together!" I reply.
"Well that just sounds mucky!"
"It's a diary mother, an online diary and people read it."
"Could I read it?"
"You could but you might not want to."
"And you all know each other from there?"
"Yes."
"Do you swap pictures and stuff?"
"No, I post a picture and people can look at it."
"Not naughty I hope!"
"No mother!"
"I don't get it!"

And she doesn't and probably never will but she does read now and then.

"Who is Nici and K?" she asked.
"Friends," I replied.
"Well I gathered that but who are they, you've not talked about them before."
"I've talked about Nici mother. Abi. The american."
"The one with the whip?"
"Yes."
"Didn't you do something with her on that site once?"
"I changed her blog design mother, that's as far as it goes!"
"And they're coming over?"
"Yes."
"Well that'll be lovely for you."

She's trying to be nice but she still doesn't understand and never will and when father asks how I am she'll say "don't ask Roger, you won't like it."

We got to the airport in just as the plane was due to land but it was late so we actually had time to grab a drink. Unfortunately all the shops had shut and the machines didn't take notes! Damn it!

We didn't have to wait long before Nici & K arrived as as we hugged not only was a warming and heartfelt it was also like it had only been a couple of weeks since we last saw each and not a few years. I felt the same when giving K a hug and this was the first time I'd ever met her!

Once home we cracked open a bottle of wine and it was gone 4am before we finally went to bed after much catching up, getting-to-know-yous, and just general fun and chat.

Saturday saw us have a very lazy morning around the house and after a massive lunch of stuff and salad we headed into Galway.

We forced the girls to kick the wall but they had to watch others do it before they did just in case they thought we were conning them into something and then we headed into town for drinkies. Galway Pride was on and all six people people turn up for it. Drinks in the Quays, where Nick tried her first ever Guinness which wasn't up to standard, then a walk back to the car and off to the Duggans.
After coffee and cooing over Ruaidhrí we headed back home.

Brad cooked us all steak. Well, he didn't cook mine but then again you don't need to. With my steak you just wave it over the pan a little and then throw it on the plate.

More drinking and conversation and bedtime at some ungodly hour but all very much worth it.

Heading back to the airport on Sunday I think I was the only one who didn't have a hangover but I wasn't the only one who didn't think we'd make it in time! Damn weather, funerals and traffic!

All in all the weekend was fantastic. It was wonderful seeing Nici again and meeting K. They are both lovely people. I'm a little annoyed that they didn't take either of the cats as promised but there is a box in the hall, miaowing, that I really must post at some point!

As seen here!

Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, answer the following questions. You can't use the band I used. Try not to repeat a song title. Repost as "my life according to (band/musician name)"

Pick your Artist:
 Erasure

Are you a male or female?
Boy

Describe yourself:

Drama

How do you feel?
Too Darn Hot

Describe where you currently live:

Home

If you could go anywhere, where would you go?
The Circus

Your favorite form of transportation:
Ship of Fools

Your best friend is:

Brother and sister

What's the weather like?
Rain

Favourite time of day:
I love Saturday

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called?

Perfect Stranger

What is life to you?

Tenderest Moments

Your fear:
Victim of Love

The Queen is dead. 

After reading Mon's blog this morning about obituaries and such like I thought I'd write mine and post it here.

Landers 1973 - 2133

Landers, star of stage, screen and blog has passed away peacefully in his sleep at the age of one hundred and sixty years.

For most he was a friend, confidant and lover but there were a few who he found him insulting, rude, ignorant and arrogant and even though he seemed to enjoy causing trouble no one can say he didn't live a full life.

As organiser of the the worlds greatest blog awards it's no surprise he won one every year*.

Seeing in two new centuries, fighting in four world wars, being world president for six terms all took it's toll but he'll be best remembered for giving birth to his first child at the age of seventy-six.

Ever the entertainer his 1st album "Landers: I'm A Fat Twat!" still holds the world records for biggest seller of all time, quickest selling album, best selling artist and album with best tracks in the world... ever! His musical career lead him to have some of his most memorable and controversial relationships and marriages with stars such as Michael Bublé, Justin Timberlake, Rob Thomas, Enya and Sheena Easton.

Out-living all his family and friends he leaves behind a small fortune and a collection of gay porn second only to that of his ex-husband Justin Dunn. He'll be sadly missed by all those who knew him.

The Queen is dead, long live the Queen.

* It should be noted that he actually didn't!

Obviously as an avid fan of all things Apple and Mac I shouldn't not find this funny.

But I do.

The day started well but given the hangover I'd had the day before unless I'd suddenly come down with the plague I was bound to feel better. Unfortunately the day wouldn't remain so good.

Bert actually got up when I ask him to and before long we were downstairs having breakfast. We'd worked out how much we'd got left in sterling so the decision was made to fill up on breakfast so the next meal we'd need to eat would be just before we got to the airport.

Back in the room we packed up as quickly as we could and decided we'd walk to the local station and get the train to take us one stop down the line to Hull's main station. Plans changed when we found a bus station on the same commercial complex as the hotel! This took us straight to the station in Hull.

As with our outbound journey our train tickets weren't for the train we were about to catch but it didn't matter. We'd paid full fair so it's not as though we were travelling illegally and Laura had never had her tickets checked and neither did we on the way into Hull. The train pulled out the station and within seconds we heard the guard shout "tickets please!"

The guard pointed out that our tickets weren't for travel on this train and Brad, doing all the talking as ordered by me, explained that we didn't think it matter as we'd paid a fare anyway. We had two options. No.1. Pay a small fortune for two single tickets at full price into Manchester or No.2. get off at the next station, Brough.

An hour later, after I'd walked the length of the platform a few times, then the other platform, watched five trains come through the station, taken pictures and listened to camp classics we decided to take a walk into the town. Well actually I decided to go for a walk to small cafe/shop I could see just across from the station to go and get come drinks for us and Brad decided he'd come with. The cafe turned out to be a chinese take-away called the Station Supper Bar, worse still it was closed. This meant a walk into town which wasn't too daunting as we were at a train station. Surely if you're at a train station there has to be a small village or town centre nearby. Wrong! Fifteen minutes and four pubs later there was still no sign of a village centre and I was starting to think we'd been walking out of town rather than in. All we wanted was a newsagent we could get a bottle of coke, a chocolate bar and a newspaper.

Another fifteen minutes and finally we could see some shops on the horizon! Okay that's not strictly true! First of all we couldn't see the shops we could see the edge of a car park and secondly it wasn't on the horizon. My pace increased slightly, if that was possible, as my excitement grew at the though of finally getting a coke and maybe a Mars bar! I was also excited about seeing civilisation which was just as well as that was all we got!

A florist, a bookies, a post office, a couple of estates, an architects and some nice benches and flower beds! No fucking newsagent! A Spar would have done. I'd even have paid the exorbitant prices in a Co-op by this point. Thankfully in the distance we spotted a bigger car park which could have been another set of shops and surely there must have been a newsagents there!

For once success was ours! There was more than a newsagent! There was a Morrisons! My distaste for Morrisons is on par with that of Kwik Save, Aldi, Lidl's and buses but by this point I'd have drank the piss from a sweaty dog I was that thirsty! Two two-litre bottles of shite and a twix later we were heading back to the train station happy in the knowledge that I'd had a drink and some chocolate and a toy and the next train to come in would be ours! No eye candy on this trip just a guy being too loud on his phone and then coughing beer all of the seat but thankfully we soon pulled into Manchester Piccadilly.

Thanks to the delay at Brough we'd have to get the train straight to the airport to make sure we got there on time. Sitting upstairs in the departure lounge we bought coffees that we could refill as many times as wanted just in case we were delayed. As luck would have it we weren't. Of course our luck wouldn't hold out.

As we boarded the plane and grabbed the emergency exit seats I saw a familiar flash of black and green. The same fucking basketball team that was on the flight out was on our flight back. A million under-15's trying to get into a plane made for four! I don't so much mind the kids, although these ones were quite noisy, but it's the useless parents and guardians who don't keep them under control that's more annoying. They seem to encourage it! I'm sure I heard one of the mothers say "yes darling, you run up and down the aisle as we take off and here's €100, go get yourself a vodka and coke!"

Every five minutes or so the cabin crew would ask people to move down the plane and find a vacant seat so ignoring all the signs the kids took up the spare seats in the emergency exit rows. There are signs clearly stating that you have to be over eighteen to sit in these seats, which is an added bonus as far as I'm concerned, but the parents were ignoring this and telling kids to sit in the seats. And yes, there were ignoring them. How do I I? How can I be so sure that they'd seen the signs? Because Bert and I pointed it out to them! I desperately wanted to shout "told you so!" when the cabin crew moved them on!

This left two empty seats behind us which soon filled by a very snobby old bitch (very much like myself) who wasn't at all happy that she was travelling with Ryanair. My consolation, and yes I am that bitter was that her husband had no choice but to put their bags in the only available locker space, one at the front and one at the back, which meant they'd be last off. To make matters worse she put her jacket on the back of Bert's chair. This usually wouldn't be a problem but she was very snooty and made no attempt to ask if he minded, which he did! So he put his back constantly wiping his dandruff on her collar and any creatures living in his hair. To be honest I think he came off worse with the bugs off her collar now in his hair.

Now, as most of you know I have a small passion for planes which has lead to me knowing a little bit about the process of landing. Not only that but coming into Shannon so many times gives you an idea of where you should be at what point. As the pilot announced "seats for landing" I knew we were too high and going too fast. What made things worse was that Bert knew it as well.

Once we'd bounced down the runaway the pilot finally managed to stop just short of the end, something that never happens at Shannon (well not to us!) and had to do a u-turn to head back to the taxi-way. This is the second time we'd bounced down the runway (the first time he managed to turn into the taxi way miles away from the end of the runway thankfully!) and just like then as we got off the landing gear was surround by official looking people all rubbing their head or holding their chin in their hands and going "hmmmm!"

A short walk to the car, an hours drive to Claregalway and we were soon in bed at the Dugggans who'd offered us a bed rather than go home and go back the next day to collect the animals. I slept well that night. Thankful to be home but filled with some great memories.

All in all I'd say we had a very successful trip. Of course I'm ignoring all the hiccups as in the grand scheme of things they just made the trip an adventure. Many thanks to Row for a wonderful Friday night, Laura and to everyone else for a wonderful Saturday night and Brad for a wonderful Sunday. I met some great people on the trip. I also ate too much, drank too much, was filmed too much, smoked too much, walked too much but all of it was very very much worth it.

Hopefully I'll see you soon!

I am loving the randomness of Twitter at the moment.

From various users:

- My pee bubbles bonded together to form the shape of an angelfish.

- 10 minutes later and this boy is still wiping cum out of his eye

- My dad ate my dinner. Now I have no dinner.

- Want to update my blog but anything more than 140 characters seems so 2008!

- When I find out who in my house took money out of my wallet, I'll be breaking some faces.

- I have a secret dream that I'll be walking round Rockefeller Plaza, bump into her and impress her with my wit and charm.

- Full of lovins

If I go to bed at 11pm I wake up at 6am. If I go to bed at 1am I wake up at 6am. If I go to be at 4am I wake up at 6am. You get the idea.

I couldn't tell you what time I actually got into bed after getting pissed but as per usual I woke up at 6am. The hangover hadn't kicked in by that point, as I found when I got out of bed to go to the toilet. Getting there wasn't the usual bleary eyed journey as though I was partially sighted but instead I used the wall and dresser as walking aids and then stood hanging on to the wardrobe until door came past so I could hope in and use the toilet.

Ablutions over with, another glass of water drank and one on the bedside table I went back to sleep. I woke again about 7.30am, took a look out the window and went back to bed again. At 9am I woke up again and that was it, I was wide awake. Thank God for the in-room comfort cooling system as the sun was shining through our window and heating the room up. Suddenly there was strange noise coming from outside. My first thought was that someone was dangling a cat out of a window or possibly it was stuck in the lift but after a long look out the window I discovered it was piper playing the bagpipes!

I could have quite easily killed him but instead I put the telly on, lay on the bed and drank my water.

I felt like death. No, I felt worse than death. If I moved I could feel my brain lolling as through my eyes were about to fall out. My mouth tasted like the pissed bride from the night before had broke into our room and puked in to my mouth and then invited all her friends to shit in to it and then empty the hotel ashtrays down my throat!

Apart from popping out for a few ciggies here and there and getting a drinks from the bar we basically spent most of the morning and early afternoon in the room. During my trips out, taken very slowly, I saw loads of men in kilts which is obviously why the piper was there.

Around 3pm we went down to use the hotel spa and I thoroughly enjoyed forty seconds in the sauna, a minute in the steam room, a couple of minutes in the Jacuzzi and then five minutes in the pool. I'd have loved to have stayed more but my head wasn't really up to. As I got dressed I saw a text on my phone from Laura and Vicki saying that they were on their way so I went outside to wait for them. Once they'd arrived the three of us sat in the bar and enjoyed cokes all round which was fine by me as I couldn't have taken anything stronger!

One thing I've always thought should be exceeded and not just met are my own personal customer service standards. I'm not one of those that believes the customer is always right but the customers opinions should always be valued and listened to. Now although the customer service hadn't been bad during our stay the fact that the bed hadn't been made properly and the awkwardness over the evening meal made me wonder just what would happen when I took my drink back because there was bright red lipstick (not my shade) on the glass.

The girl that had initially served me, as nice as she was, didn't have the kindest face. She looked the type that worked her staff to the bone, hated the customers and hated the job even more. Thankfully a guy behind the bar saw me before she did and offered his services. I explained about the glass and he instantly apologised and began pouring another drink. He gave me a story about how it had been happening a lot recently and he'd got concerns that the glass washer was faulty. He also pointed out that I didn't need to hear any of this and apologised again for the dirty glass. Brad had joined us by this point so I order his drink and when I offered to pay the barman winked and said it was on the house as compensation for the dirty glass.

All in all I was very impressed with the service but it was made all the better by the fact that the barman was gorgeous with the cutest smile! At 9.5 he was probably the second highest scoring piece of eye-candy I'd seen all weekend.

We had something to eat, which was lovely, and as Laura and Vicki left we headed back to our room for a lie down before our meal.

In the restaurant everything was laid out in a self-service buffet but was absolutely fantastic. I don't have a lot of confidence in self-service hotel food but I think this stems from European holidays where there food was always vile and congealed. This was totally different. There was so much to choose from and all of it was stunning. Once done with we headed back to the room with drinks and enjoyed the night out there.

I know this a short entry compared to the other entries about the trip but this was literally all we did on Sunday.

I thought that being in a hotel and not at home would mean a different routine. Mostly I was right but on one small front I was very much mistaken. There is this thing that happens when Bert and I are going out. Firstly I set a time to leave. Nine times out of ten it's not a time that is set in stone, it's just a suggestion, you know like "lets leave around 8ish?" As I'm writing that even I know I'm lying. It's usually not just set in stone but signed with a death penalty attached. Every now and then I do let up and give a time that isn't bound by any prime directive, although it's not often. Anyway, as I said, the first thing that happens is I set a time to leave. There is no point Bert setting a time as if we book a table somewhere for 8pm he thinks that means we leave the house at 8pm.

So five minutes before the deadline I'm usually sat in the kitchen, car keys in hand, wondering whether I should just nip into World of Warcraft and have a quick battle with someone as I know Bert won't be ready. As the deadline passes I shout upstairs to see if he's ready. "Yeah, just putting my other glasses on," comes the reply.

Five minutes later I'm sat in the car and he comes out, locks the front door, opens it and goes back in. A further five minutes pass and he comes out but this time goes back in without locking the door. Finally at anytime between 8.15-8.30pm he comes and gets in the car and I being to pull out the drive. "Oh hang on, I haven't changed my glasses!" he says and we have one more visit inside.

Being in a hotel and not at home does not change this.

"Are you nearly ready baby?" I ask.
"Yeah, I've just got to put my shoes on," he replies.
"Okay, will you ring reception and book a taxi? I'm just going to nip out and have a cigarette, I'll see you downstairs in a few minutes."
"Yeah, I'll do it right now."

As I walk out the room I hear him on the phone to reception asking them to book us a taxi and as I bypass the various people milling around the corridors in wedding outfits and a pissed mother-of-the-groom I keep my fingers crossed that the reception will actually a book a taxi and Bert really did just have his shoes to put on. Two cigarettes later, after I'd been staring at the taxi Bert finally turned up.

The taxi ride to the restaurant was short and as we pulled up outside Ask everyone else was also just arriving.

The eight of us - Laura, Rob, Diana, Milly, Tracey, Vicki, Brad and me - sat down at our table and the problem of choosing what to eat began. I've never been a big fan of tomatoes and in my younger years was actually allergic to them. I blame my mother, so did the doctor, as tinned tomatoes were her craving during pregnancy and she overdosed on them.

Being in an Italian restaurant and not liking tomatoes meant the menu was quite limited. Thankfully just because I don't like them doesn't mean I won't eat them, I just don't like huge amounts so the menu wasn't that limited. As it was I chose a dish that didn't have tomatoes. It was small but beautiful - just like me - and I could have quite easily eaten it twice.

The next day Laura suggested the reason I got so drunk was because my portion was small and there wasn't enough food in my stomach to soak up the alcohol. This may be partially true but the main reason would be that I'm a light-weight and cannot take my drink.

The dinner conversation turned to poo, wank socks and tissues, pissing in teapots and Pringles, much to the disgust of the people behind us who seemed to finish eating quite quickly and escape into the night. Pringles became the buzz word of the night and was shouted in varying places and tones followed by anything from willies, boobies, poo and mother-fucker, all in a tourette stylee.

Once the bill was sorted, a story I'm not going into, we moved onto the first bar a place called the Quay Side. It was, I thought, a very contemporary place with high backed stools at the bar and nice small tables around the place and quiet music so we could really talk and get to know each other. We toasted a glass to Kelly who initially was going to try and come over but didn't in the end so she could spend her holiday time with the mister, and who could blame her? He's obviously a wonderful man from the way she talks about him in blog and in person. We heart Mister - Send Kelly! The whole getting to know you thing didn't really happen but instead we laughed, joked, drank and had a great time but as we left I realised I was still non the wiser as to who the new bloggers I was meeting were really.

Obviously I'd met Laura before during her mammoth travelling in May for the Berlin blog meet - a week at ours, then Berlin then a final week back at ours. I'd met Rob in Berlin as well and the entire time there I'd not once called him Bob, the second I see him outside the restaurant I shake his hand and say "Hi Bob, good to see you again," and instantly apologised for calling him Bob. I'd also met Diana in Berlin and me and her sat and enjoyed a wine or four together in the restaurant and then in this bar. I'd met Vicki when her and Laura came to meet us at the station but the conversation went as far as grabbing a burger and where we were going that evening so she was just as much as stranger as the others. Obviously I knew bits about them from reading blogs but essentially they were, as I said, strangers.

During the walk to the next bar, a place called Zillis, I talked to each one, trying to make sure I got to know them all a little better and this carried on in the next bar. We sat outside as the night was warm and so the smokers, in the majority for once, could smoke. A half-pint glass of wine was thrust into my hand by Brad. I'd have complained about it being a half pint but he was too busy complaining about how the Amstel he'd ordered and they'd given him was not Amstel but some piss-poor replica or water-down rubbish.

Now, it's from this point that my memory starts to become hazy. I'd like to say this is due to swine flu or SARS as that way I'd have a proper real forgivable excuse for forgetting a fair old amount but in reality I got trollied.

I know Vicki disappeared and came back a few minutes later with some fluffy light-up bunny ears for me which I wore all night, in fact when we moved on to a bar called William Wilberforce the DJ dedicated the first song we heard to "the man with the bunny ears."

When I say DJ I'm actually using the term very loosely. I get very pissed off when people call themselves DJ's when all the actually do is either play some MP3's through a laptop or stick on a CD or two. Some of us were real DJ's back in the day when you mixed music properly! Bastards!

Much more drinking followed and I remember at one point drinking something that looking like baby sick but tasted like Baileys. It turned out to be Banana flavoured vodka or something like that. it was horrible but I was past it so drank it.

Dancing followed to various camp classics such as Tragedy by Steps, Chain Reaction by Diana Ross and Reach for the Stars by S Club 7. Apparently someone has a video of me dancing and when you see the size of me you'll realise when the camera is a bit shaky. The drinking, singing and dancing continued until it was time to move onto the next place. I didn't realise it but by this point we were already one member down.

Heading to the next place Milly and I decided to make it a goal to get as many pictures with cute guys and girls as we could. Actually I think I made it my mission and Milly, bless her, joined it. This had actually been going on most of the night but now, as we walked, we became more determined to get even more pictures.

Sadly as we walked the fresh air hit me and my intoxication became worse. I remember almost falling in some ruins of something but it might have just been some road works. The state I was in was not good and in the end the decision was made that Brad and I should head back to the hotel. I honestly couldn't tell you who made the decision but Brad didn't seem to mind so we went and queued for a taxi. After thirty-odd minutes of waiting it arrived and I made sure the driver was told to drive slowly and carefully or I'd vomit in his cab. He was happy with this for some reason but I did assure him I would get plenty of notice if I was going to puke. I then proceeded to give him a lecture on being a taxi driver in Galway and how unfair it was on all the real taxi drivers as they were allowing anyone to be a driver!

Finally back at the hotel we stumbled into the lift and pushed the button for the fourth floor. We stopped at the first floor and in came a bride being held up by two bridesmaids and a man who just stood there laughing at her. So did we. For some reason the bride took a bite out of one of her bridesmaids as the lift filled with the shrill of "Michelle dernt beyte meh!" in the strangest accent I'd ever heard. As the doors opened the bride let go of her supports and she fell out the lift flat on her face, leaving a shoe behind. As the doors started to close Prince Charming (Brad) threw out the shoe to the pissed up Cinderella on the floor and the pair of us started laughing.

As we got in to the hotel room I turned to Brad and said "Now I'm not that bad am I?" Before he could answer I'd collapsed on the bed and demanded he got me a drink of water. With the window open and the

comfort cooling system running I drifted off to sleep with the thoughts that I'd had a fantastic time, met some wonderful people, made some great friends and drank far too much.

So, here I am, in glorious Technicolor, pissed and waiting for the taxi. Apparently there is a video of me dancing but I don't have it, haven't seen it (don't want to!) and know nothing about it. Brad took this one. The shame!

 

Coming soon... the morning after!

P.S. All the pictures are clickable for a bigger version.

Waking up in one the most comfortable beds in the world is not something I like to do when I have plans. This is what happened on the Saturday morning after our Friday night in Manchester with the lovely RowTheBoat. Because we had plans it meant we had no choice but to get up and I really could have just lay there for hours. I hate our bed at home now. Mind you I did before but now my hatred has fuel!

Once awake and polished Row passed the coffees round and then offered to take us to the train station. Rather than suffer the indignity of a bus we I jumped at the chance, stopping in Didsbury first to get some personal items from Boots The Chemist (are they still called that or is it just Boots these days?) and activate our new Halifax Visa Electron cards at the nearest Branch.

I hate Ryanair with a passion but lets face it with Bert out of work and me having a demanding social life sometimes you just have to bite the bullet and fly cattle class. Ryanair know that no matter how many add-ons to the pricing structure they make you'll still fork out the thruppence-halfpenny to fly with them as it's better than paying the £200 per person per journey with British Airways or the three camels and your first-born to fly with Ethiad or Emirates. So everyone, including us, does all they can to bring the already Lidl value Ryanair fare down to a figure even a pikey would pay. To this end we got UK registered Electron cards as it's the only credit/debit card you can use on the Ryanair website where they don't charge you a million pound fee for using it. Electron cards are not available in Ireland so we got one from a UK Halifax and had them sent to my parents address, lying on the form that we were living there.

"Just complete the form, photocopy your passport, send it all in and your account will be opened and you'll get your card!" said the application form! Seven to ten working days later our cards arrived at my parents and my mother forwarded them on to us. Brad rang the 'activation line' on a sticker stuck to the front of the card only to be told that we have to go into a branch with our I.D. Great! So we get the cards and can't use them! Bastards!

"But we're living travelling around the Ireland at the moment!" cries Bert, hoping his tears will convince the guy to activate the cards.
"Oh well," he says, not really caring, "see you in a branch!"

So after a few more calls back and forth to the Halifax we're assured that when we got into any branch with just our passports we can activate the cards and the accounts and have access to the £160 that is currently sitting in there doing nothing.

The girl in the Didsbury branch was lovely and had the kindest way of telling us there wasn't a hope in hell of these cards being activated without a utility bill.

"A utility bill for a house we don't live at in a country we don't live in?" I nearly shouted. Instead I just seethed a little showing her how upset and gay I'd become if she didn't activate them there and then and Bert whimpered a little knowing that once I'd finished telling her how fucking shite the Halifax is he'd suffer the mood and shouting and swearing for the rest of the day.

Either the smoke beginning to come from my ears or the look of utter horrow from Bert took effect on her and seconds later she handed our cards back and smilingly told us they were activated. In my head I knew that the second we got to the ATM they would be swallowed and we'd be arrested for falsifying our address details. That didn't happen. Instead we took out the money peacefully and went for breakfast with Row into a cafe I could have sat in all day. Of course that couldn't really happen as we had a train to catch.

Row delivered us to the train station in plenty of time for our train. Four hours early in fact, but this was at our choice not hers. We could check into the hotel in Hull from 2pm onwards but the train we'd booked on wouldn't get into to Hull until around 5ish. Bert suggested we get an early train and Laura had said her ticket never got checked whenever she used it so to hell with it we'd just use a earlier one and enjoy the benefits of the hotel spa before meeting the other misfits in town.

We'd pre-booked our tickets about four years earlier to get them nice and cheap but all the damn machines that actually gave you the tickets had decided they didn't like my credit card we'd booked with.

"Is it an Egg card because the machines don't like them?" shouted a Virgin customer services guy. He worked for Virgin, he might not have actually been a virgin. Well he was at one point. Enough!
"No, it's a Halifax card," I replied.
"Is it Egg?"
"No it's a Halifax Ireland Visa!"
"They don't like Egg cards."

Eventually the man that was actually trying to help and not the one shouting about farm produce took to his desk and printed our tickets out manually.

"Now, you must travel on the train you're booked on, don't go earlier ones as you'll pay a fortune if you're stopped."
"Yes sir, thank you sir, of course sir, we're good boys sir," we said as we backed away and headed for the train sat at the platform. The train we weren't supposed to be getting on. As we stepped on to platform 1 the whistle blew and we missed it anyway.

We sat in the station cafe for an hour until the next train, again not our scheduled service, arrived and we jumped on. Sure enough no one checked out tickets and while Bert read his Memoirs of a Geisha, I listened to various camp classics, took pictures and stared at the eye candy sat a few seats away. I'm sure he was quite concerned by my drooling but he never moved or said anything and stayed with us all the way to Hull.

Hull train station is like a mixture of something from Miss Marple and Grand Central station. It's respectfully old and looked after but also tiled with echoey high ceilings. Laura and Vicki came to meet us and once the group hugs had finished and the passers by had stopped trying to figure out who was with who we grabbed a burger from McDogfoods and then went our separate ways. The girls to drink booze with the reprobates we were meeting later and us to our hotel.

Ever the one for forward planning (if you believe that you'll believe anything) Brad had booked and paid for an evening meal in the hotel but part of the package stated we had to use on the first night. Well that was pointless as on our first night we were heading into Hull to get trollied so before we left Ireland he rang the hotel group and asked if we could change it for the Sunday. The agent said yes and just to talk to reception about it when we arrived.

"Orrr nurrr, we can't do that!" said the Hitler-esque (fablous party-planner!) receptionist.
"But I was told on the phone I could!" said Brad.
"Nurr, we're not allowed."
"Well I don't want it tonight, we have plans."
"But she turld you on the fern that you could change it?"
"Yes."
"Well as she turld you on the fern that you can change it I'll change it."

So, it was that easy! Why she couldn't have just done it straight off is beyond me!

We were given our room cards and off we went. I hate 'room cards,' I'd much rather go back to the days of keys and key-rings the size and weight of a doorstop with the name of the hotel on so that you could wave it about and let people know which hotel you were in. Of course this kind of thing was only worth doing if you were staying in the Hilton or suchlike but even than some random skank would get a gander at your room number and while you were waving your key about talking about how wonderful the mini-bar is he'd be stealing your jewellery and mini-soaps and showercap!

The room was not like the picture, but they never are. We didn't have a jacuzzi bath that we'd hoped for, or an iPod dock that the website hinted at. In fact, our bed hadn't even been made properly but to be fair it was a nice enough room and clean. The brochure said our room came with 'in-room comfort cooling' which turned to be an opened window and a fan. We did have a big flat-screen TV through which made me annoyed that we'd only bought rucksacks! How the hell was I going to get that into it!

We relaxed on the bed for a while and then the usual "going out" routine took place. Bert had a shower and I ironed all the clothes. We rang reception to books us a taxi to the restaurant and our night out was about to begin.

Coming soon - The night out... the video of me pissed and my own little musical tribute to the night.

The flight was boring and uneventful. I'm ignoring the fact that we had a basketball team on-board - all under 15 - and a hen party.

So far every flight we've had this year has had a hen party on it! They're always in pink cowboy hats and tee-shirts with names on such as "Shaggable Sue" and "Munchable Mandy" whereas it should have been "Syphilis Sue" and "Mannish Mandy."

Both groups clapped as we landed which is something that has always got on my nerves. I think it goes back to vile package holidays and flying back to England surrounded by straw donkeys and sombreros.

 

Finally they let us off the plane and as we came through customs I realised that not once person had checked my passport. The only time my passport had been involved in the trip so far was when we put it in to check-in on-line! It's just as well I'm not a terrorist.

Practically running out of the arrivals lounge, anything to get away from the hen party and/or basketball team, we were greeted by the big smiles of the gorgeous Row and massive hugs all round. Up one floor in the massive lift, into the car and out the car-park - or so we hoped! No one had one bothered to put signs up saying that the car-park exit was broken and we couldn't pay there! As no one had put signs up Row just put the parking ticket in and then her credit card, neither of which were forth-coming in returning. When they finally did the card spat out and hit the floor and the machine gave out two tickets! So, leaving the car behind and watching other drivers reverse Row had to run off and find a pay-station. Thankfully minutes later we were heading off for Chez Boat!

We chatted for a while, drank coffee and met Row's rather attractive lodger. A quick change of clothes and we headed off to Shimla Pinks in Manchester.

What we had was quite literally a banquet, in name and in presentation! The starter, brought out by very friendly staff, was more than just a starter! It was six starters in one and each one was just as tasty as the other. I'd be hard pushed to choose one I would call my favourite but the Joojeh Seekh Kebab and the Dum Saunfiya Paneer were out of this world!

Washed down with a lovely bottle of wine, well I thought it was as I chose it, the empty plates were soon removed and out main course brought out.

Five different dishes to choose from, not including the rice and naan bread and as with the starters each one was just as nice as the other. The Daal was out of this world! I've never been a big fan of Daal as I often think if it's left too long it can turn into baby food but this was perfect and I could have eaten more and more of it.

More wine followed and then came the Mango Kulfi. I've been to restaurants in the past and on the menu it'll have some form of fruit flavoured Kulfi but when it comes out you can tell it is just ice cream from a wholesaler and not the Kulfi you actually wanted. When this came out you could see straight away it was real Kulfi, and if looking wasn't enough the taste said it all.

While Row and Brad had a liqueur coffee I ended my meal with a nice smooth glass of Hennessy XO. I was in heaven. Food, fine wines, fine Brandy and fabulous company! What more could a queen ask for?

Brad asked for the bill and in a hushed voice said "this can't be right!" The bill only included the alcohol. Before he could raise his arm and question it Row pointed out that when she'd booked it she'd paid as well! God bless her! We paid for the drinks and then headed off to a bar called Mojo! Although they did various different beers and spirits and wines the bar was mainly, I guess due to the clientele, a cocktail bar. Of course this suited me down to the ground! I spent the night drinking Mojito's and staring at the barman! Now he wasn't the most attractive man, generally speaking, but there was something about him. I think it was probably his cocktail making skills! In the time it took for him to make seven Mojito's I'd still be plucking and shredding the mint! 

It wasn't long before we were joined by friends of Row's. A chap called John and two of his friends, who's names I sadly forget. I say sadly because the tall one was rather gorgeous and spent some of his night with his arm around me! None of them seemed to understand how we'd met so, just like the Birmingham mini-blog meet and birthday bash, we left them to think we were swingers and wondering on which site you could meet two such good looking fellas as us!

A thousand drinks later we stumbled home... in a taxi. Coffee's and more chatting later and we headed to bed. Row had kindly given up her bedroom for us and although I felt guilty when we first found out I have to admit to being a little pleased at having a bed to sleep in. As much as I'm sure Row's floor would have been perfectly fine the bed was superior.

There ended our Friday, and although the day had been a bit shit and busy the night certainly made up for it.

Thanks again to Row for collecting us, keeping us and everything else she did. It was very much appreciated.

You're a star. Mwah x

Friday was a day that went ahead with military planning and precision. Can you hear the sarcasm already?

I'd planned it all the night before and it would end with us having at least two hours at the airport given that there was no traffic. I had forgotten it was Friday which meant that the traffic would be heavier than normal. I only remembered this at around 11am on the Friday, thirty minutes before we were due to head off.

We left five minutes after I'd planned.

So the plan...

1130 - Leave home.
1215 - Arrive Knock Airport. Drop off brother & (future) sister-in-law.
1220 - Leave Knock Airport.
1305 - Arrive home to collect dogs, cats and luggage.
1310 - Leave home for the Duggans
1340 - Arrive at the Duggans. Drop off animals.
1345 - Leave for Shannon Airport.
1445 - Arrive Shannon Airport, leave car in the long stay car park.
1500 - Head through security.
1515 - Settle down for two hours until flight at 1730.

So, as I said, we left at 1135, five minutes after I'd planned. Traffic wasn't too bad although just before Ballydine we got stuck behind the hundreds of people heading for the funeral of a person they'd probably never met but would still happily accept drinks from the family. Finally we got to Knock, dropped off the family, said our goodbyes and then headed home to collect the dogs and cats. By the time we left Knock Airport it was 1245, so we were already twenty-five minutes behind "the plan" and to make matters worse as we came into Ballydine we hit everyone leaving the fucking funeral!

We finally got home at around 1345, now forty minutes behind behind schedule. Running around the house, grabbing everything and throwing it in the car, we left home around 1415, over an hour later than planned. Anyone who has stayed with me for more than two days will know how I get when things don't go to plan. Actually, anyone who has read my blog will know how I get when things don't go to plan, so you should be able to imagine the state I was in by now.

At 1450 we arrived at the Duggans, ran in, dropped off the dogs and cats, explained that we were sorry but we were in a rush and then ran out the door. I'm quite sure Bert was just humouring me and would have happily stayed for a coffee. As it was he could see the sense of urgency in my eyes so forewent any beverage.

At around 1500 we left the Duggans. Now an hour and twenty minutes behind schedule. It didn't matter too much though as Shannon was only an hour away so we'd get the for 4pm and all would be well!

Ten minutes from leaving Claregalway we hit the traffic from the roadwork's for the bypass. There are quite a few differences between the traffic lights in the UK and those here in Ireland. For a start there is no amber light when going from red to green, it's just straight to green. This is fine apart

from when you're not paying attention and as soon as the person behind hits the horn to tell you the lights are on green they turn to red! The main difference though is the red light. It doesn't actually mean as much over here as it does in the UK, it's just a pretty colour. It was this difference that caused us all the trouble.

Sat in the driving seat I could see the road ahead and could see that everything was moving so slowly. Bert had a quick look on his phone for a short cut but given his recent track record on short cuts I decided that ignoring him was better and sitting in the traffic would be just fine.

We arrived at the airport at 1700. If we'd had to check in we'd have been fucked! As we ran down the stairs to where our plane usually goes from people had just started queuing and a few minutes later they called the flight.

An hour later we'd be in Manchester!

Huzzah!

I am back in Ireland.

I will be home soon.

I will be posting pictures of the weekend.

Some of them will be public.

Muhahahahahahhaaaa!

It's amazing how much know you've got some time off from work can really improve your mood.

Knowing that I won't get beaten up or covered in shit unless I'm paying for it is a great help to the whole concept of relaxation.

To be fair work wasn't that bad over the last two days. Tuesday I was working with a guy I can actually trust and Wednesday I was in the day centre so the day passed quickly and I only had to work 9 to 5.30. Can't really complain too much about that can I? I'm sure if I tried hard enough I could.

Well I'm in the mood to go actually do something active. As this doesn't happen often I'm going to grab with both hands and probably throw it away.

Here's some pictures!

Monday 27th July 2009...

The phone rings. It's my dad.

"Richard died last night," he said.
"What?"
"Richard died last night," he repeated.
"Oh god. I was only speaking to David a few days ago!"
"How come?"
"Brad and I went passed the garden centre when we were over and it made me realise I'd not heard off him or Stuart in ages."

The conversation continued about how that was now seven deaths since December. Mom wasn't handling it well. Dad has decided he's next. He was wrong.

Thursday 30th July 2009...

The phone rings. It's dad again.

"Hello," I answer quite jovially.
"Alright son," he says with a crack in his voice.

There is a muffle over the phone and I know he's put his hand over the mouth-piece. I can faintly hear him say "you tell him" and them mother comes on the phone.

"Hello," she says.
"What's happened?" I ask with a sense of urgency.
"Renato died last night."

I'm silent. I don't know what to say.

"Are you okay?" she asks.
"Yeah, just shocked," I say, "although I suppose we were expecting this one."

The conversation continued about how that was now eight deaths since December. Dad wasn't handling it well. Mom has decided she's next. She was wrong.

Saturday 1st August 2009...

The phone rings. It's mom.

"Hello," I say, trying to sound positive.
"Hello," she replied and again it's obvious something is wrong.

I pause before saying anything and in that pause I decide that she sounds down because of the two deaths in one week, but then I hear her sniff and I know she's crying.

"What's wrong?" I ask.
"Pablo died last night."

The conversation continued about how that was now nine deaths since December. Mom and dad aren't handling it well. They have both decided they're next. I hope they're wrong.

Rest in peace Russell, Eric, Phil, Ashley, Jose-Maria, Mike, Richard, Renato and Pablo.

Reading that list back I've only just realised it's all men. Who'll be the first woman? With just over five months of 2009 left I'm sure I'll find out soon.

It's been a helluva year so far!

So yesterday Bert and I headed off to the airport to collect the Von Trapps, otherwise known as "his family.'

- His mother and father and their three foster kids (14, 12 and 10 months)
- His younger sister and her husband and their three kids (9, 6 and 22 months)

With Bert and I it makes twelve.

Twelve in the house, half of them children.

I have to be in work at two as sadly I have no holiday time left. Gutted. *ahem*

There was this many last year but I don't remember this much noise. It's very surprising how quiet this house is now they'll all gone off to Galway for the day. The only noise is the light hum of the dishwasher and gently loud breathing snoring of Hillie.

Right, off to work. See you later... possibly. I may finding a place to hide.

We have the internet back on at home. Turns out that it's a problem with the router, not that UTV will admit that, they'll expect us to buy our own new router. Fuck it!

I have a shiny new hard-drive on my Mac. 320gb. Arrived just in the nick of time as last Thursday my old hard-drive packed up. I lost some stuff, nothing major. Thanks to wonders of Apple I've got all my bookmarks, contacts and calendar info back. You know, all the major stuff, all the stuff that means I can go on living. Fuck it!

Work tomorrow. A long day. 8am to 9pm. No doubt I'll be asked to work with Beej and they'll be no point saying no as when I say "asked" I really mean "told." Fuck them and fuck him!

I have nothing constructive to blog and am far from in the mood to anyway given that I spent most of last night lying awake staring at the ceiling wondering if I'd ever get to sleep. Fuck it!

Isn't it incredible the amount of thoughts a mind can have in so many short seconds. I like it to slow down so I can make sense of them. Fuck it!

How did you discover that you could do that thing with the condom?
The brother of a friend did it one night in Spain. As soon as I saw it I thought "I can do that!" so I tried and the rest is condom snorting history.

Strangest place you've ever had nookie?
On a traffic island in Tamworth.

Where in the world would your ideal place to live be?
Galway Bay

When are you coming to visit?
Soon - I hope! Probably next year some time.

What book in the world would you most like to have written yourself?
House of Leaves. I read it in '99 and absolutely loved it. It's one of the strangest books I've ever read but if you stick with it it's fantastic.

What do you dislike most about yourself?
My body hair. Couldn't give a flying fuck about being fat although it does annoy me at times, but my body hair actually depresses me.

Would you run over a dog to avoid hitting a policeman?
I've sat and thought about this one and I just don't know. I'd like to say no, I'd avoid the dog but I think in reality I'd more than likely hit it, but I do know I'd be far more upset about the dog than the copper.

Why did you get rid of the sparklers?
The same reason I change most things on my blog... I got bored with it.

Do you have any tattoo's or peircings?
Yes. I have four tattoo's and four piercings.

If someone scared a badger and it bolted, and you had to run at the same time, do you think the badger or you would tire first?
I would tire very quickly.

How old were you when you had your first kiss?
My first "proper" kiss was when I was 12.

Where do you see yourself in five years time?
Getting pissed off at the management of whatever airline I work for.

What started you blogging?
I'd been writing an on-line diary for years on my own personal webspace but it was such a hassle to upload it all that I only wrote about once a week. A friend introduced me to Live Journal so I started using that. I still have it and write it now and again. I found Blog.co.uk because I got pissed off at Live Journals URL for my journal. At the time it wasn't very user-friendly... something like www.livejournal.com/members/users/fullusers/profullusers/realusers/accounts/journals/usernames... and so on. Very shit. So I typed "blog" into Google and that same day became a "Founder Member" of blog.

What are you most proud of?
I found this one very hard to answer as I don't know what I'm most proud of.
- I'm proud of passing my AA2 with Dale. Without him I wouldn't have, no matter how much he and Rach tell me it's all about "team work!"
- I'm proud of actually moving to Ireland as I'm very much a mommy's boy.
I think I actually get more proud of other people than myself. Such as I'm proud of Brad for the way he stands up for what he believes, I'm proud of my dad for the stuff he does for charities and I'm proud of my mom for still being here and sane with everything she's been through. There are so many of my friends I'm proud of as well.

What is the most memorable moment in your life where you have walked away afterwards thinking "Oh hell yes!!!!!"?
Getting a standing ovation for playing Seymour in a production of "The Little Shop of Horrors"

What's your favourite tee shirt?
Oooooh I have many favourite tee's. It's all about the logo baby. One says "Today I am a princess" and another says "Ass Hole" then I have one that says "Yes, this tee-shirt has the word cunt on it, it also says fuck, shit and machine washable!" but it's in small letters at the back. I don't think I could pick ONE favourite.

If you and Brad were stuck in the north pole with no food awaiting rescue, would you save yourself and eat him or make the ultimate sacrifice?
I think I'd wait and see which one of is popped his clogs first. If I do then Brad can eat me, if he goes I'll eat him.

Have you ever had any threesomes?
Yes.

What do you want to know?

As a blog friend, I'm giving each of you the opportunity to ask me one question about me.

I'll try my best to answer every one, but reserve the right not to.

Before we went to the airport we stopped in at Mr & Mrs Duggans to drop the dogs off and have a coffee. Ruairdhrí and I played with scissors and bleach while Helen made coffee and chatted with Brad.

The journey to the actually airport was one of the most annoying trips along that road... Ever!

The car in front decide it didn't like travelling at 100kmph, which was the limit for that road, but would rather travel at a speed between 70 and 80kmph but even then he kept hitting the breaks for no good reason! Before anyone says it, I know it's a 'limit' not a 'target' but in Ireland nearly every road has a hard shoulder and we get lovely public service announcements on the tevalision telling us that if we're going slow or the car behind wants to pass then pull into the shoulder. Did he? Did he m' hole! Bastard stayed where he was! The road from Claregalway to Shannon isn't the straightest and at rush hour even when you find a spot to overtake there is usually something coming the other way! Cunt! Finally I got passed him only to end back behind someone else like it a few cars later. This happened all the way to the airport and even at the airport we got stuck behind a car crawling along obviously trying to find the car park and then driving straight past it!

Once in the airport and through check-in I finally managed to relax with a pint and stare at the US G.I.'s.

Sorry for the blurred picture but Brad took it on his iPhone and he's not quite used to it yet. Also he had to take it without them noticing for fear of getting shot and that was proving difficult as the airport was FULL of them! Some of them were cute but some of them were just vile! I'm sure one of them was actually Fatima Whitbread! A lot of them were sadly no other than fourteen.

Herded on to the plane like cattle we sat on the back row as I was too impatient to wait for the older lady with calcified hips to get up the stairs at the front.

The flight wasn't that bad but the pilot was either in rush due to us being late or was still training as we took off at a rather steep angle and only ever did right angles when we turned. We bounced down the runway at Birmingham. Quite literally.

So now it's the next morning, I had a lovely sleep and woke up at stupid o'clock and I'm wondering if I should bugger off to Wal-Mart with Scoobs and just leave him to sleep.

It's been a while since I've done a meme so thought I'd do one now.

Seven things you will find in your room.
I didn't know if this meant bedroom or the room I was sat in so I went with room I was in.

1. Plants
2. Pictures
3. Blackberry Yankee candle
4. Clock I made.
5. Television
6. Stereo
7. Me!

Seven relationship questions.

1. Do you like anyone? - I like a lot of people.

2. Does someone like you? - I'm sure someone does.

3. Last kiss? - Hasn't happened yet.

4. Been lead on? - Often.

5. Been cheated on? - Once or twice.

6. Want a relationship? - Depends on the type.

7. Want to get married? - At some point.

Seven other things – Do you:

1. Believe in God? - No.

2. Had a dream come true? - No. (Do you had a dream come true? Who wrote this?)

3. Read the Newspaper? - I have done in the past.

4. Get enough sleep everyday? - Mostly.

5. Have a best friend? - More than one.

6. Take a bath daily? - No.

7. Wish on stars? - No.

Seven “Have you ever's:

1. Fallen in love? - Yes.

2. Kissed someone of the same sex? - Yes.

3. Hooked up with someone who had a BF/GF? - Yes.

4. Been to a Bonfire? - Yes.

5. Ran away from home? - Yes.

6. Played strip poker? - Yes.

7. Pulled an all nighter? - Yes.

Seven things in the last 24 Hours. Have you:

1. Cried? - No.

2. Had fun? - Yes.

3. Been kissed? - Yes.

4. Felt stupid? - Christ Yes! Stupid Polish woman!

5. Talked to an ex? - No.

6. Missed someone? - Yes.

7. Listened to music? - Yes.

Seven things on your mind:

1. Flights
2. Ashley
3. Renato
4. Saturday
5. Tuesday
6. Wednesday
7. My eye

Seven things you couldn’t live without:

1. Brad
2. Friends
3. Family
4. iPhone
5. Car
6. Air
7. Blood

By now some of you will have received your marvellous super-smashing-great free compact disc from me, full of hip, happening and kickin' choons!

Okay, so in reality some of you may have received the CD with some songs on it.

If you haven't had yours yet don't worry, it's coming, I have ran out of printer ink been a tad busy with work. Of course it could be your post!

Although I did you a nice cover (well I think it's nice - see below) and have given you a track listing I'd like to give you a bit more information about the tracks here.

If you'd rather have a surprise then bookmark this page and come back to it when you've got your CD, if you're not all the bothered then read on.

If you haven't already done so there is still time to request a CD. If you have then you don't need to do it again. If you haven't asked and you'd like one then email your address to iwouldlikeacdplease@gmail.com. You have until Wednesday. After Wednesday no more of this CD will be available and I'll be starting work on CD2.

So, the tracks...

Josh Ritter - Girl in the War.
I'm quite a new fan of Josh Ritter having only discovered him on my trip to Kilkenny and this comes from the album 'The Animal Years' which is full of great tracks and I can highly recommend it. I'm sure I'll put some more of his stuff on future CD's.
"Pretend the dove from above is a dragon and your feet are on fire."

Kansas - Carry on Wayward Son
A great 70's rock ballad that I used to love, then forgot about, and then found again thanks to that new fangled flicker box called tevalision! I'll admit to being one of the many fans that used to think it was called 'Carry on MY Wayward Son' when it's not but when you hear it I think you'll forgive me. A fact for you - this track is used to recap the season in every season finale of the hit TV show Supernatural. (oooh Dean!)
"I hear the voices when I'm dreaming."

Depeche Mode - A Question of Lust
I love Depeche Mode and I think it's my affection for them that lead me to love Erasure when Vince Clarke left and formed his new band with Andy Bell. Given how much I love Erasure I'm surprised I haven't put any on! This track is the second Depeche Mode single to be released with Martin Gore doing the lead vocals and not Dave Gahan. Gahan is a great vocalist but there is something quite haunting about Gore's voice that I adore.
"Be gentle with me, I'd never willing do you harm."

Bond - Duel
I might sound a bit pretentious now but if you've heard the track I hope you'll know what I mean. The following is what goes through my head when I listen to this track, which I hope, given the title of the track, that it goes some way to what the writer (a Croatian) wanted. As it starts I take the initial thirty seconds to be the introduction to a battle. From thirty to fifty seconds is introducing me to the contenders and at fifty seconds the first one takes his shot. It's the image of a musical battle that stays with me for the rest of the song. I absolutely adore how from fifty seconds to one minute ten seconds there is one version of the medley then at one minute ten seconds the same medley is heard but the instruments have swapped roles. I love this track from start to finish.

The Killers - Human
I wasn't going to put this on as it's not a fantastic song but it is rather good. What changed my mind was a radio interview with a guy who has written a book about the worst song lyrics ever. This song is included in the list because of the line "Are we human or are we dancers?" I must have spent thirty minutes texting the station without hearing it read it out as it's not a bad lyric if you're in the know! The author should have done his research! Face Dancers (or just Dancers as they often got called) were shapeshifters in the Dune universe written by Frank Herbert. The often took on the form of humans to take out the leaders of various factions and the only ones who could detect them were the Bene Gesserit. Those that weren't used as spies or killers were entertainers. The song makes sense when you know this and it's obvious that the gorgeous Brandon is asking if we're humans with our free will or are we impostors, just doing as we're told.
"Pay my respects to grace and virtue."

Simon Webbe - Grace
I was never a fan of the group Blue that Webbe was a member of. I've got nothing against boy bands but there was something about Blue that just bored the shit out of me. I've never particularly liked any of the solo stuff any of them have done either apart from this one. There is something about it that means I can't help but sing along. All of his other stuff is bollix though!
"And in all of the confusion you're the peace in my soul."

Thin Lizzy - Whiskey in the Jar
When it's 4am and you're pissed, among the myriad of songs you could tell from the introduction this has to be one of the most memorable. The initial guitar is haunting and once heard, as proven by those drunken nights, it's never forgotten.
"I took all of his money."

The Veronicas - Untouched
I decided I had to include one shit song and this is it. The beat is excellent but the words are... well... ermm... shit. The writer(s) appear to have very little writing ability and it's shame given the that the rhythm is so good.
"I don't give a damn what the say or what they think."

Billy Idol vs Pink - Pink Wedding
As you've probably gathered from the title this is a "mash up" - a mix of two or more different songs. This takes Billy Idol's White Wedding an Pink's Get The Party Started and turns them into a dance floor/gaybar classic! There'll be a mash up on every CD I do, as well as a shit song (like the one above) and sometimes they could be both. Of course, now I've said that I can assure I'll forget to put either on the next CD!
"I'll be burning rubber you'll be kissing my ass."

Alanis Morissette - No Pressure over Cappuccinos
I shall be honest and say this is on here for Brad. We had the lyrics painted on the wall of our first bedroom together.
"Is it just me or is it hot in here?"

Kings of Leon - Use Somebody
I don't know what it is about the Kings of Leon. They aren't really all that good but this songs is great. I think it has a lot of passion and feeling to it and, again, it's another one I sing along to all the time. The words are also fantastic!
"Someone like you and all you know and how you've been."

Fleet Foxes - Mykonos
I. Love. This. Guys. Voice! As a group I think they are world class an I'm very much looking forward to seeing them in concert. I could listen to this track over and over again. Brad made a trip to see the painting the album artwork came from when we were in Berlin as a copy once hung in his school. I decided a nice glass of red was more important and Ma joined me as we sat on put the world to rights. This track will always remind me of that time. Just the two of us sat talking about anything and everything... and then heavens opened!
"And you will go to Mykonos."

The Polyphonic Spree - Lithium
One thing that really bugs me is seeing twelve year olds coming out of school wearing Nirvana tee-shirts and not having a clue who Kurt Cobain was. I wasn't a dedicated fan who spent four years in black when he shot himself but I did like quite a lot of their stuff. The Polyphonic Spree do a top class version of Lithium and I hope it's people like this that keep Nirvana's music going rather than ignorant prepubescent pram-faces who think Che Guevara was famous for wearing hats and being on tee-shirts! I predict a riot!
"I'm so ugly but that's okay 'cause so are you."

Chris Isaak - Blue Spanish Sky
I find it almost impossible to believe that Chris Isaak is 53. That is all. I'm too upset to say any more!
"I knew the words but I sang them wrong."

Peter Gabriel - Solsbury Hill
As with Whisky in the Jar this is another intro that is easy to pick up even if it does remind me of the theme tune to LA Law, a programme I used to love! I wonder if that's why I think this track is so good? My parents never liked Peter Gabriel or Kate Bush and I think that's why I like them both so much! Ooooh I'm such a naughty rebel!
"Eagle flew out of the night."

Rod Stewart - Maggie May
When I was growing up it always felt like you had to be over 18 to like Rod Stewart. As it was my mother would blast out the hits from her gramophone while she was dusting and hoovering on a Sunday morning. I used to get a little upset about having to go to church because I wanted to stay and listen to this music! Instead I had to suffer hymns and prayers!
"I know I keep you amused but I feel I'm being used."

So there you have it. Don't forget, it's not too late to request. See the instructions at the top!

Dermot Ahern is Irelands Minister for Justice and Law Reform. He and the government have just introduced the facility for queers in Ireland, like me and Scoobs, to register our relationship. They are calling this a "gay marriage" and/or a civil partnership. It's shit.

If I asked my mother to write something like this she would. This mother wrote it without being asked.

Dear Mr Ahern,

My name is Helen Doody, you have already received and failed to reply to a letter that my own son Declan sent to you a week or so ago. So like any good and decent parent I am now trying to get you to listen to and protect my child – it is the very least that any mother would do for her own children.

I read Declan’s email and everything he said to you in the e-mail was true. He had a very tough time growing up in Abbeyfeale, I can still picture him crying in the mornings before he went to school because he was afraid of the people who were going to be waiting for him – bullies who would beat the living daylight out of him, people who crushed the very spirit within him. I tried numerous times to help him, I spoke to teachers, to the parents but the problem got a quick-fix but a weeks later it just continued on.
Declan was always a very shy and quiet boy but as the bullying continued he became more and more invisible. His Dad and I spent nights talking about him, wondering would he go to school in the morning, would he come home that evening with a ripped jumper or would his school copies be destroyed, we tried so hard to get him the help he needed but as the bullying continued, he started to shut his family out.

All of this began to change however the day Declan came out to me. I am not going to pretend that I handled it like a saint, it is a shock to the system, you don’t think about your child being gay, you just assume they are straight and when Declan told me I didn’t know what to do. I thought I had done something wrong, I thought it was my fault, I really thought that this was it for my son, when people started to find out that he was gay his entire world would turn into a living hell but it didn’t.
Over the coming weeks he began to change, I finally started to see him smile again and there was something different about his heart too. I saw my son reach a very dark and lonely place at the age of 16 but even at his lowest my son, had the courage and strength to come out and say he was gay.
He went to college with a new look on life, he finally seemed to be enjoying himself and it was only then I realised that there was nothing wrong with Declan. If my son was happy, if he was no longer worried about what other people thought about him then I knew that there was nothing wrong with being gay.
For many years he had kept a secret from me and his family because he thought we would reject him, like so many people had done to him before and now at the age of 23 he has graduated with a degree, a higher diploma and a masters. He has become the fine young man that his father and I are so very proud to be able to call our son.

When I heard on the news that gay people would now finally be able to register the relationships like any married couple I finally thought things had changed and I suppose many other people around the country like me thought the same. However I have now realised that what you plan on doing is nothing short of telling the gay community that they are still not equal. You will not tell my sons that they are not equal to their brothers, friends and the rest of society. Your Civil Partnership Bill is not good enough for my family, and hundreds, thousands of other families in this country. I might not be the smartest person in this country but even I can tell you that this bill is all but worthless and will only further the opinion that gay people are not the same as everyone else.

I have been there for all my sons when they have had their hearts broken by girlfriends and boyfriends. I helped them pick out gifts on Valentines day and shopped around for a Tux for the Debs. I have met boyfriends and girlfriends, I have liked some and been frosty to others. I have thought about each and every single of them getting married to someone that they love and who will love them back as much as I do.

I have six sons Mr Ahern, six very beautiful boys who became six very beautiful and upstanding young men!

Two of my boys are gay. Four are straight. Two are firemen. Two love playing video games. One loves to cook. Three of them love cars. Five of them have had their tonsils out.

All of them are my sons.

You have the power to change this country so do the right thing and change this country for the better, wake up and realise that there is still time to clean up this mess and give gay couples the same rights as straight couples.

I am asking on behalf of my gay children, their gay friends, my gay friends, my family, I am asking you as a member of this country, as a taxpayer but most of all I am asking you as a mother, to help my children and revise this Bill so everyone in this country can be equal.

Yours truly,

Helen Doody

As seen here.

Here's how Hitler reacted to the death of Michael Jackson.

Damn funny!

"Play after play of Heal The World until we're all shitting rainbows"

This had to be the best Dear Deidre letter... EVER!

Better than the one from B with an inappropriate boyband fixation.

Although to be honest I've not actually read the letter, the headline
was enough to have me laughing. I'm sure there is a better way of
writing that headline though?!

Sorry for the long entry but once you get past me waffling some you grammar nazis may find it funny.

As most of you know I (and Scoobs and quite a few other people we know) have no life so play World of Warcraft. Now you non-believers can take the piss but if you ignore the people who think it's a way of life it can actually be quite a fun game with various shoot-em-up and puzzle solving strategy elements to it.

The game is that big that there are many different "realms" or servers to give them their real name. These realms are split into different categories. PVE = "Player versus environment" which means you do the quests and kill the bad guys but you don't fight other players. PVP = Player versus player" which means you kill everything but can also be killed. There is also RP which means "Role Playing" which means you have to talk as your character would, which can prove VERY fucking funny at times. There are also RPPVE and PRPVP realms as well. I used to play exclusively on a PVE realm but thought I'd see what a RP realm was like. I've played in it for a while and can often sit there giggling while people taking the game far too seriously.

Now I've bored you here's the actual point of the entry.

Last night I got a bit pissed off with the guy who controls the guild I was in so I left. He hasn't be around for two months and as second in charge is very difficult to do anything when even as second in charge you have very little commandl. So I joined another one. It's good to be in a guild as you often need help with some aspects.

Well today I asked a question and was told that it was all on the website. You can imagine the uproar when I suggested that a guild with a website wasn't really role playing but like a good little soldier I went and read that site.

I'd like to share parts of it with you now.

From the "About us" section

Who are the Ebon Blade Knights....

We are lost Death Knights who were send back into this world by Highlord Darion Morgrain.

With our free will restored we try to serve the alliance the best way we can.

Although there is no place in this world for our kind and most people still think of us as scourge we fight for it by doing good and show by showing them that we are no mindless killers.

We try to give lost Death Knights an home again, we fight as one when needed and never leave one behind, an Knight in need we will always help, ALWAYS!

We only recruit Death Knights as is written in the lore.

We are an Heavy Rp guild but we also help leveling and later maybe we will start raiding.

We have an tabard and 2 guild tabs available.

We are proud to announce that the Ebon Blade Knights is also an part of the guild senate, and therefor the Death Knights have an voice again within the alliance.The trust is still an thin line on both sides but we gain more respect in Azaroth everyday as an group of loyal knights.

From the "The Rules" section.

Rules
-Respect eighother.

-If an knight makes trouble find an officer and tell him or her about it, so there can be dealed with in a proper way.

- Dont start fights, and dont make the first move, we want peace not war, ofcourse you are alowed to defent yourself when nessacery.

- If a knight needs help, try to help him or her were you can.

- Never leave an knight behind!

- If an knight does not listen to an direct order from an officer of start fights over and over again, the knight will be diceplined in the form of an punish rank ((in this rank the knight can only read guild and officer chat but cannot write anymore)), the knight can only earn his old rank back by show loyalty again.

- ((we are an heavy rp guild, so lolling is no excuse and will be punished inmidiatly with an removel from the guild))

- Were your tabard with pride *smile*

From the "Leadership an Officers" section

lady Chellan.

Chellan is Born on Dreanor and as an Dreanei she believed in the true ligh,she became an great paladin with great powers.

When the orcs attacked her kind she fought for her homeland she fought as long as she could be she had to flee, they were with to many, thats how she got to Azaroth.

Soon she met new people and saw the great king Varian.

She decided to join the army of King Varian Wrynn and soon became an leader in it..

One day her group was send out over seas for an resque mission, but when she came there no one servived.

She and her men tried to get back to the ships to report their findings when they got surounded and atacked by ghouls and undead, the king thought everyone died and retreated the ships, so she and her men got trapped, there whas no escape possible.

The Ghouls and undead killed her men and herself and brought her body to Archerus were The Lich imidiatly decided to make her an Death Knight to fight for his aid.

Now with her free will restored she is determined to revange what the Lich has done to her and many others, but she also want peace and a place back into this world.

Her believe in the light has faded although she does think the light has a meaning for all this.

She believe in justice and hope, and that makes her strong and determined to resque all death knights and give them an home again under Highlord Darion's banner they will servive and will try to get back peace and revange!

I really don't think I'll be in this guild for long... in fact I think a certain blogger/player may sign in just to tell the glorious leader how evil I am and send her a link to this page. Oh well. At least I'll have had a giggle!

I think this is excellent! In full here but paraphrased below.

Not only can I think of bloggers that have some of these but I'm also fully aware that I have one of them... possibly two at the moment but I can't help the bad year can I?!

The only problem I have with actually posting this is that I can think of two bloggers (not on my friends list) who will read it and then start spouting about how it's obviously a real medical condition because this website said so!

So...

The Six New Personality Disorders Caused by the Internet

6. Online Intermittent Explosive Disorder (a.k.a. The Thin-Skinned Rage-o-holic)
Like serial killers, these people seem pretty normal at first. For hours or even days, they'll carry on funny, charming conversations in a forum or comment section. But then something, anything, sets him or her off and he or she devolves into a tantrum that would make Christian Bale say, "Dude, calm down! Jesus."

5. Low Forum Frustration Tolerance (a.k.a. The Frantic Browser Reloader)
This is the guy who makes a new thread, knowing he's just written the absolutely perfect post. A post that should be heralded across the Internet for its beauty, comedy and insight. It is such a good post that the guy is checking every five seconds to see if there is a new response. If he gets a response he quickly dashes out his own reply that will appear half a second later.

If there are no responses to his perfect post then he will wait an eternity of five minutes before replying to his own thread with, "What, nobody has a comment? Helloooo???"

4. Munchausen by Internet (a.k.a. The Sob Story Teller)
These are the people who lurk around innocently enough, and then, one day, tragedy strikes. Their dog, or parent, or maybe a close friend died. Maybe the poster themselves found out they have a terminal disease. And unless you're on 4chan, the group will generally rally around and shower them with sympathy. You send this person your prayers and well wishes, maybe a few dozen kitten pictures and you hope they will get through it.

Then, a few months later, another tragedy strikes them. Their best friend was raped, or paralyzed in an accident, or both. A few months after that, their father dies. Again.

3. Online Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder (a.k.a. The Grammar Nazi)
We all reserve the right to mock people who post 500-word blocks of misspelled nonsense. But then you have the situation where somebody posts a perfectly clear and clever message but within their well-articulated points they dare to confuse "your" with "you're." And then somebody will flip the fuck out.

Like a Mossad agent in rural America, you quickly discover that you've found a Nazi. Of the Grammar variety.

2. Low Cyber Self-Esteem (a.k.a. The Guy Who Everyone Hates but Who Never Leaves)
There's a place for everyone on the Internet to feel at home. When you can fill a message board with fans of The Wonder Years porn, there should be no such thing as an outcast.

Yet, each forum, chat room or other online community seems to have a person or people who just don't fit in. It's not that they are necessarily horrible people, they're just the square trying to fit into the triangle hole. They get ridiculed constantly.

Now you may figure this is no different than the picked-on nerd in high school, but unlike that kid always getting squished into a locker, these people are free to leave the website at any time.

But they never do.

1. Internet Asperger's Syndrome (a.k.a. The Troll)
We can't take credit for this one, blogger and Internet entrepreneur Jason Calacanis coined the term "Internet Asperger's Syndrome" to describe the utter loss of all social rules and empathy that seems to hit some people for no other reason than that they happen to be communicating via keyboard and monitor at the time.

We don't need to retell all of the horror stories. A kid commits suicide on webcam while the trolls cheer him on, Anonymous mocks a suicide victim, some kids fire a baby out of a giant slingshot for a YouTube video (we're not sure if that last one actually happened but it's really just a matter of time).

Normal kids, good grades, no criminal records... but get them in a chat room and suddenly it reads like the transcript to a Charles Manson parole hearing.

Thank you Cracked.com

If you don't want to know the answer to this then don't read this yet.

So the three options I gave you were these:

1. I melted all my toe nails and burnt my feet while walking on hot coals incorrectly.

2. I was once in an episode of Gardeners World where I talked about seed trays and pumpkins.

3. Years ago I abseiled down the side of the Birmingham Hippodrome to raise money for charity.

The coals were laid out and before we walked across we had a lesson from the instructor. This involved walked the same distance as the length of coals and placing out feet down as we would on the coals, and also walking at the correct speed. We must have done this about thirty odd times before he told us the "secret" of the coals.

"Ash doesn't conduct heat which is why it doesn't burn," he said.
"Chuh, yeah right!" came various different replies.
"It gets warm and you'll feel the heat from the hot coals underneath but the ash will not burn you as long as you walk how you've been shown."

He talked some more and convinced us this was true and then finally the time came for us to do it and even worse I was only third in the line. The man in front of the lady in front of me walked across and at the other end he turned and smiled and we all applauded. I'd winced the entire time he was walking along the coals but he'd shown no signs of pain. The lady in front of me took her turn. She "oohed" and "ahhhed" a little but at the end she jumped up and down and screamed to her applause from us.

I took a step forward and could really feel the heat coming off the coals. My foot tentatively hung over my first step and down it went on to the coals.

"Keep moving!" he shouted.

But I just stood there wondering why it was actually getting hotter given that I was told the ash shouldn't burn.

"KEEP MOVING OR YOU'LL BURN!" he shouted again, "LIKE WE PRACTISED!"

And as he said that I started running. Well not so much running but walking faster than we were shown. Not only was I going faster that I was supposed to but I wasn't putting my feet down properly either and ended up jamming my toes into the coals. I carried on running, pressing into the coals with my feet until eventually I jumped off onto the sand and soil either side of the hot path. Two people cam rushing over, one with a bucket of water, and I could hear someone else calling an ambulance. The pain was intense and my feet were black. Suffice to say I ended up in A&E and had to spend two nights in the hospital during which time time they removed my melted toe nails and bandage up my feet.

My toe nails grew back but at funny angles. Most of them grown down into my toes but my little ones grow up towards the sky and it's only been these last four or five years that they're starting to sort themselves out. I have parts of my feet that have feeling and I'm not ticklish either.

So, that story tells you that number one is true.

At the age of thirteen when we had to choose our options at school I took Rural Studies. My only two reasons for doing this was that it meant you got to go to the Royal Show every year and that Mr. Salt was the schools best teacher! One day I got called to the headmasters office, along with a few other pupils, and while waiting outside we worked out that the only think we had in common is that we were all doing Rural Studies. Finally we got called into his office and told that our teacher, Mr. Salt, had written to Gardeners World to tell them how great our gardens and projects were and he'd picked our specific projects to go ahead and be filmed when they turned up the following month. I ending up talking about how I'd started off my pumpkins in seed trays and then planted them out in the garden with various protective devices to save it from flies and insects. Hopefully at the end of the year I'd be able to determine which was the best protection. As it was I had an accident and ended up on crutches for around twenty weeks and couldn't get down to the gardens to sort them out. No one else did anything as they were too busy with their own projects and Mr. Salt was sadly too late to sort it as he thought the others were looking after it. He was very apologetic and and he was the kind of teacher that would actually feel guilty over it. In the end I passed Rural Studies with a C and I've still no idea how as I hated the subject in reality.

If number two is true then is means number three is a lie.

Well it is a lie, but only part of it.

I did do a charity abseil but it was down the side of Sandwell Hospital and not the Birmingham Hippodrome. I've also done one down a cliff in Kidderminster. I think I'm too fat (and gay) to do one now.

So there you have it. Three was the lie. Sort of.

As seen here.

Here are three statements. One of them is a lie. Can you guess which one?

(Brad you're not allowed to enter)

1. I melted all my toe nails and burnt my feet while walking on hot coals incorrectly.

2. I was once in an episode of Gardeners World where I talked about seed trays and pumpkins.

3. Years ago I abseiled down the side of the Birmingham Hippodrome to raise money for charity.

There you go. Which is the lie?

P.S. There is still time to get your free cd. Click here if you don't know what I'm talking about.

I'm still trying to finalise the track listing. It's not as easy as it might sound.

There are so many tracks I want to put on that I've decided I'll be sending out more than one cd. I might do one a month. If you've emailed me at iwouldlikeacdplease@gmail.com then you don't need to do it again... although some of you forgot to include an address... I shall mention no names.

It'll be posted sometime next week so I do hope you're not sitting waiting for it.

If you'd like to suggest themes for the next few CD's feel free.

If you've no idea what I'm talking about go here or just email me at iwouldlikeacdplease@gmail.com with your name and address.

Right, time to actually finish it while Bert goes and fetches us a Chinese!

There are certain bloggers on here that may need to read some of the following. Thankfully none of them are on my friends list!

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Stalking is a term used to describe unwanted attention by individuals (and sometimes groups of people) to others. Stalking behaviors are related to harassment and intimidation. The word "stalking" is used, with some differing meanings, in psychology and also in some legal jurisdictions as a term for a criminal offence. It may also be used to refer to criminal offences or civil wrongs that include conduct which some people consider to be stalking, such as those described in law as "harassment" or similar terms

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In Internet slang, a troll is someone who posts controversial, inflammatory, irrelevant, or off-topic messages in an online community, such as an online discussion forum or chat room, with the primary intent of provoking other users into an emotional response or to generally disrupt normal on-topic discussion.

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Attention is the cognitive process of selectively concentrating on one aspect of the environment while ignoring other things. Examples include listening carefully to what someone is saying while ignoring other conversations in a room (the cocktail party effect) or listening to a cell phone conversation while driving a car. Attention is one of the most intensely studied topics within psychology and cognitive neuroscience.

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Bipolar disorder, also known as manic depression, manic depressive disorder or bipolar affective disorder, is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a category of mood disorders defined by the presence of one or more episodes of abnormally elevated mood clinically referred to as mania or, if milder, hypomania. Individuals who experience manic episodes also commonly experience depressive episodes or symptoms, or mixed episodes in which features of both mania and depression are present at the same time. These episodes are usually separated by periods of "normal" mood, but in some individuals, depression and mania may rapidly alternate, known as rapid cycling.

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English is a West Germanic language that originated in Anglo-Saxon England. As a result of the military, economic, scientific, political and cultural influence of the British Empire during the 18th, 19th and early 20th centuries and of the United States since the mid 20th century, it has become the lingua franca in many parts of the world. It is used extensively as a second language and as an official language in Commonwealth countries and many international organizations.

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All that is on Wikipedia so it must be true!

Now fuck off!

It truly has been a bit of a shitty year so far.

Even ignoring all four deaths there has been enough bad news to last a life time and it never seems to end, even today more bad news comes and even though she tries to put a brave face on things my mother really isn't coping. I can tell from the crack in her voice as she talks. Father has said he cannot go to the hospital anymore as coming out upsets him. This has been going on since January with a friend of theirs. Even though he says he can't go he still does. Every week. What is going to hurt them both even more is that when this friend dies, which could happen any moment, it'll be on the news and my mother will have to watch it. Not because the television is broke and stuck on and on one channel but because she'll feel as though she has to. She'll read any newspaper clipping and she'll cut them out and save them. She has a secret box which we all no one knows about with certain items in it. Clippings will end up in there and once the funeral is over she'll never look in it again until the next time something sad happens and even then it'll only be opened to put more things in, never to take things out and never to have anything read.

I can't grieve anymore as there is no part of me left that has anything left to give. I cannot go into mourning and to be honest the mood I'm getting in to over all this means I'd refuse to anyway.

Instead I'm being positive about things.

To this end I'm offering you all a gift. The gift of music. A while back Brad did a post where he asked people to send him cd's of music that they liked to try and introduce him to some new artistes and music and he got some wonderful replies. I'm offering you the exact opposite.

I'm going to create a CD of music I like and would like to send you out a copy. To do this you'll have to give me your name and address. Email me at iwouldlikeacdplease@gmail.com with your name and address and I'll post you a CD of music. Don't panic, it won't be angry stuff, it will be a myriad of various musical tastes.

After it's been done and sent out I'll be writing a post about it here so you can listen and read along and see why I've picked those songs. There will be a lovely cover design by me which I've no doubt will be reminiscent of when I used to host a radio show. You'll understand that when you see the CD.

So if you'd like one... it's free... all you need to do is email me at iwouldlikeacdplease@gmail.com.

 

Twas on the Blogship Lollipop that the captain set a challenge.  Go here and look and then take part!  Go on!  You know you wanna!

"Come Dine With Me" - Captains Challenge

My Four Guests
I'm not going to tell you why but I'd love to hear why you think why ;)

Immanuel Kant
Freddie Hubbard
Clara Twomlow
Isabella Rossellini

My Menu
I am assuming that my guests have already told me that they're not allergic to anything and have no major dislikes.

Aperitifs & Canapés upon entry and before dinner.

Starter
Salmon Mousse served on a bed of lettuce and chopped peppers with an accompaniment of new potatoes wrapped in Palma ham and then slow roasted and served with a sweet chilli sauce.

Main Course
Roast Chicken stuffed with an onion, sage and apple stuffing served with a selection seasonal vegetables and hassleback potatoes.

Dessert
Four individual "bite-sized" desserts comprising of a traditional sherry trifle, lemon meringue, orange cheesecake and a chocolate & beetroot brownie.

Chinese Tea to end the evening.

The Table Setting & Theme
The table would be set with all appropriate cutlery and condiments along with a jug of iced water, a bottle of red wine and a bottle of white wine.

There would be no theme as such as I often think these things can go horribly wrong but the evening would be elegant but simple.  A refined night with gentle conversation, a relaxed mood and stylish background music.

Why I'd Win
I am and would be the perfect host.  My guests all compliment each other and are all people who I know I'd be friends with given then opportunity.

 

This story utterly amazed me!

A Michigan man has come forward claiming to be Stephen Damman, the 2-year-old boy who disappeared over 50 years ago after his mother left him and his sister alone outside a Long Island, NY bakery.

According to Lt. Kevin Smith of the Nassau County Police, in the 1950s, it was not uncommon for young mothers to leave their children outside when grocery shopping.

An 81-year-old woman who had young children during that time told the Associated Press, “They [children] would all be lined up outside the supermarket. We never worried. We never thought about it.”

On Halloween in 1955, Marilyn Damman entered a Long Island bakery leaving her 2-year-old son, Stephen and 7-month-old daughter, Pamela outside with a stroller.  Ten minutes later, Marilyn came out of the bakery and could not find the stroller or her children.  Around the corner she found the stroller with only her daughter inside.

Over 2,000 people assisted in the search for Stephen for 28 hours, after which the county’s assistant chief inspector, Leslie W. Pearsall, called off the search.  According to The New York Times, Pearsall decided the case should be left up to police detectives.

The Associated Press reported the family received a ransom note in Nov.  A public plea was made to the kidnappers, which emphasized Stephen's anemia and his need for medication.

Authorities are awaiting DNA tests to determine if the man who claims to be the missing boy is actually Stephen.

According to an official inside the investigation, the man believes he never fit in with his family and began searching missing person cases around the country.

Stephen’s father, Jerry Damman, 78, said “it’s very possible” the Michigan man could be his son and believes the man paid him a visit last fall.

The man approached the Nassau County Police and federal authorities over the past few months.  The man’s name has not been released.

 

 

 

Copied, stolen and plagiarised from here and here.

Looking at him as a child and an adult there is a likeness.  How would you approach your supposed parents with this?  "Mommy did you kidnap me in the 50's?"  It makes me wonder how many other adults are out there that are part of a family they don't really belong to.  It also makes me think about the nature and nurture argument.  Does this man have any personality traits of his real father or of the father that raised him?  Or both?  The nature ad nurture argument has always intrigued me.

 

So Saturday there I was sat at the top of the stairs playing with Eddie & Hille (our dogs).

I was gently rolling a ball off the top of the stairs and they were running after it. Sometimes I wasn't dropping it at all.

So one second I'm holding on to the ball and the next I spin my arm round to hurl it somewhere and bash my hand off our lovely wrought iron bannister. It's a feature of the house - or so the details say - personally I'd prefer solid oak like the Duggans but you can't have everything.

My finger swells up and I jump around the house, eyes weeping, sucking air through my teeth and generally making noises like a beach ball with an intermittent leak. Apparently these are the things that take pain away.

Ten minutes later I can't actually feel my finger, it's bigger than usual, and I can't bend it.

An hour or so later and it was still painful but not broken.

Come the next morning it was still a bit stiff... oooh err.. but not a problem.

Monday it was virtually pain free and this morning it felt a lot better.

Until today.

So at work, like a complete and utter twat, I trapped my finger in a heavy fire door. I felt and heard the crunch and know for a fact that this time it's broken.

Joy of fucking joys.

I shouted "cunt" rather loudly which made it feel a bit better.

I've taken the strapping off for now as it's a pain in the hole but I'm sure I'll put it back on at some point.

Fuck it!

Four times now I've written and deleted a blog entry.

FUCK IT!

So very pissed off right now!

Every day since Mom rang and told me about Ashley I've cried. Sometimes it's been a little sniffle, a few tears then a big sniff and everything going back to normal very quickly, but then other times it's a big sob with my shoulders bobbing up and down. This morning it was the latter.

Now I'm not one of those people that believes in holding back my emotions. If I want to cry I'll cry and I don't care who sees it.

Usually when I'm faced with the death of someone close I'll have a big cry, then a couple of little ones, I'll go through the grieving process and then I start to rebuild. That is not happening this time.

I've tried to work out why and the only answer I can come up with is that this last six (possibly even twelve) have been filled with sadness and death. In the last six months I've lost four people I've either been close to or grown up with. One of which was both and also a year younger than me.

I am not coping well with any of this.

I know death is all a part of life and I know it happens to us all, but why is it happening so frequently around me. It's making it more and more difficult to deal with.

It's also making me nervous of answering the phone when my mother calls!

As a fluent German speaker, only discovered during our trip to Berlin, I have decided to do my first entry about the Berlin Blog Meet (Berliner Bloggen Metten) in German.

Here goes!

Oh... by the way... in the entry I'm ignoring the trip from Galway to Dublin and the flight to Berlin I wasn't in Germany and didn't know I could speak German at this point!

Da Thurstag Frau Soy, Herr Scoobs und I gotten metted at das Schonefeld Tubenwingedcomeundgo by Herr Ramps und Frau Mon. Quicked wheeledstoppenstarten trip den da Understoppenstarten groupen arrivenhoff Hotel Du Rampage.

Lateronenhoff du grouppen eated di besht dooner kebab mit cluck-cluck meaten und ovenhoff vegeatbles.

Un grossen drinken mit alcohoff in da platzbrewenbeer und munched goulash souppen den da beddenbyes und de sleepenhoffen.

Da sunnenuppen da Fritag, kaffee dranken de grouppen footstepped to metten Frau Mala da Tegel Tubenwingedcomeundgo. Frau Mala quicksteppened oot Tubenwingedcomeundgo und flingarmsround der grouppen mit slurp-lippen. Brekkeneated de Beatnik Bohemian Cafe das fruitten mit milkensolid mit meatten mit cluck-cluck baba mit salat ... verre happus!

Droppen Frau Mala baggagenhoff a Hotel Du Rampage der grouppen quickstepped Berliner du Bloggen Grossen Milkensolid Hoffice. Der de grouppen metted Frau und Herr Sula, Frau Murphymole, Frau La_Spice, Frau AntLady, Herr Notbob und staffenslaven a Bloggen Herr cYzzie und Herr Florian. Downensmile Frau Gilrean da invisble! Frau La_Spice und Herr Rampage pacen forthundback braining way to contactenhoff Frau Gilrean. Electrowhizzymail checked, biggen webben checken, bloggen webben checked - downensmile. Frau La_Spice readen electrowhizzymail getten callanywhere digitten! - Uppensmile! Zero personnenhoff talky-talken a callanywhere. - Grossen downensmile. Talky-talken mit grouppen, mit grossen groupen und downensmile. Choicen grossen grouppen biggen signage a bloggen hoffice. Grouppen downensmile. Grouppen quickensteppen da pizzahaus to metten Frau Grit. Alcohoff drunken der biggen groupen eatedmunchen der grossen pizza und pastas den quickensteppened du beerhaus mit more alcohoff!

Saturtag der grouppen metten da Alexanderplatz. Darkenhoffnight previousen der grouppen agreenodded der metten da fountainenhoff. Slappenforehead der ist triple fountainenhoff a Alexanderplatz! Muchen talken und Herr Rampage mit gooden sightensockets finded gonnen memberhoff! Groupen togehter a furst timen mit grossen grossen uppensmile! Quickensteppen circulator Berliner mit Herr Scoobs a tourenhoffenguide mit grossen information a Berliner!

Sunnendown grossen groupen metten eatenscoffplatz unter der surfacestoppenstarten. Grouppen waited longenhoff but der flannkuchen mit whitenhoffen vino vas der besht!

Un quickensteppen der strasse Frau La_Spice, Frau MurphyMole, Frau Soy, Frau Mala, Herr Scoobs, Frau Gil, Herr Notbob und Herr Me dranken cocktails und bierre den un quicken ridenhoff un der understoppenstarten und de sleepenhoff.

Suntag mit grouppen da Herr Notbob, Herr Scoobs, Frau Soy, Frau Mala und Herr Me seen der Berlin Wall den seen aquaunderanimals un der grossen tanks und aquarium in der grossenhausen mit sleepenhoffrooms. Den der trippen to der pointandcoo paintingenhoff buildingenstrasse. Mala und I slurpendrinken alcohoffen un taptapwatchen fer de udders.

Oh mine got! Der cloudden droppendrip de grossen aqua similerr de Saturtag! Mala un I hiddenn under der underoverclothmithandle. Herr NotBob, Frau Soy und Herr Scoobs arriven und der grouppen trippenhoffen. Waveybyebyenhoff de Herr NotBob und Herr Scoobs, Frau Soy, Frau Mala und I quickensteppen und understoppenstarten de Hotel De Rampage.

Grossen eatten niceynicen fooden munchen createdenhoff a Mala mit Ramps a Helpenhoff Cheffen. Much alcohoff und fooden munchen und der sleepenbyebyes.

Montag Mala proddenpoken wavenbyebyes a fuckearly o'clock. Groppen und slurpen-lippen und fiven minutenhoff plus sleepen.

Soonen Frau Soy, Herr Scoobs und I riden un tacsicabben de Schonefeld Tubenwingedcomeundgo.

Gutten timenn hadden by all!

Well there you go. I'm not going to translate but I will be doing some other entries but then again I might just do a photo entry. I don't know yet. Depends on my mood really doesn't it.

For no reason other than it changes my own personal blog home (My blog.co.uk) page, here are four pictures from my recent trip to Kilkenny with some of the lads from work.

I will do a post about Berlin.

I had a great time and it would good to see friends and make new ones. I'm very much looking forward to getting my Team Tag.

I'll do it soon but right now I have other things on my mind that I need to clear up before I can do that. Thursday, possibly even the end of today, could do that for me. I don't know yet.

Sat at Dublin Airport.

Put €2 in the internet machine thingy only to find I'm getting free wi-fi on my phone.

Have just watched a very butch woman, who must be German walk past and give me a look up and down. Bitch! Just because I'm more of a woman than her!

Right, will give up the ghost on this internet malarky here as I only have seven minutes left!

Oh my shit! The butch German woman is a very female Irish man... camp as Christmas... with moobs! Moobs bigger than mine!

Okay, so off to sit with the others in the big brother chairs!

BERLIN BABY!

We met by the old boat pond in Hill Hook as we had done so many times before. I was there on a worn-out old bike that needed a lot of work and he'd arrive on something new or looked new as the staff had probably cleaned it up for him.

I'd known him since I was six when I'd arrived at his school after having moved to the area and he was to be my "buddy." This meant for a week he was to stay with me and show me around the school and introduce me to people who I now call friends. Even though he was a year younger than me in our primary school two years had classes together. It was only a small village school and couldn't afford much in the way of teachers or an education for the matter so we did a lot of singing and putting on plays.

By the end of that first week I'd been invited to his house for tea and a play-date. I was amazed by his house, it was massive. I'd been told to bring swimming togs so did and before dinner he pushed me into a downstairs bedroom and said "go and get your trunks on an we'll go swimming!"
"I'll get changed at the pool," not being shy or one of those kids that had to have trunks under my clothes to save time or embarrassment.
"Really?" he said, "okay then, come on!"

We ran down a long hallway and through double doors which took us into a massive room with a bar at one end, the worlds biggest patio doors at the other and a snooker table in the middle. A full size snooker table that not only could we play under but also on top of! Through another set of doors and into what looked like a Hawaiian Cabaña. Through some pine saloon doors and there we were in the pool room. The swimming pool was bigger than our house and had a slide and massive floating chairs. I didn't realise he'd meant we were swimming at his house! Even though he was currently in his trunks I just assumed we were running to his room, the long way, so he could get dressed and we'd head off.

Swimming ended up playing a big part in our lives as we grew up. Both of us swam for the school and even though we weren't supposed to we would often end up swimming in either the pond behind the village hall or it the old boating pond we were sat at now.

We sat there in silence, smoking a cigarette each and look out on the pond.

"Do you remember the first time we went in there?" he asked.
"Yeah! You cut your foot on something and cried the whole way home!"
"Shut up! I didn't cry!" he said, totally on the defensive.

It fell silent again and we just stared out on to the pond.

"What do you want Ash?" I asked.
"Just to talk."
"About?"

There was another silence.

"Do you fancy a swim?" I asked.
"Nah, not really."
"Well I'm going in."

And so I did. I swam out to the little island in the middle where years earlier a mans body had been found and we'd told each other stories about how his ghost floats across the water at night.

"Can I talk to you?" he shouted across to me.
"If you come over here!" I shouted back.
"No. You come back here."

There was no point trying to argue with him. We he said it as directly as he had that meant he wasn't going to change his mind so I swam back and towelled off.

"What is it?"
"How did you tell your parents you were gay?" he asked.
"Well they knew, I didn't really have to tell them. Why?"
"Because I think I might be gay."
"Well just tell them. Your mom will be fine, I know it!"
"You don't seem shocked."
"Well you are a bit... obvious."
"Really?"
"Yes. Very much so in fact. Your parents will probably already know. I'll bet they've talked about it."
"No."
"Yes."
"They wouldn't have!"
"Well they probably have."

After another cigarette smoked in silence I asked him who else he'd told.

"No one," he replied.
"No one at all?"
"No. You're the first."
"Wow!"

I was only sixteen, he was fifteen, and I'd never had anyone come to me before. Actually Derek had but we'd come out to each other on that night so I don't count it.

"Look Ash, just go home and tell them. Your mom will be fine, your dad will accept it and Heidi will love it."
"Will you come with me?"
"No no no no! You need to do this on your own. It'll be worse if I'm there."
"S'pose."

We had yet another cigarette, hugged and then went our separate ways.

He rang me a few days later to tell me he'd told them and that everything was fine. I already knew this as his mother had rang my mother and my mother had told me.

"Did you know he was peculiar?" she asked.
"Yes. He told me at the pond the other day."
"He was always a very effeminate boy."
"Yes mother."

She wasn't being offensive when she'd called him peculiar. She told people that I was peculiar while talking through he nose and winking. Heaven forbid she should say the word 'gay' in front of my father! "Sandra, get the gun!" is the usual response.

Ash and I drifted apart but always stayed in touch via texts or phone calls or emails. He moved to London and did very well for himself.

My mother rang yesterday and told me Ashley was dead.

Remember this?

It was in this entry where I asked you the following questions:

No.1. How old does the picture look?
No.2. How old do the children look?
No.3. Could either of these kids be me?

Well the picture is from the 1930's. It's two children who went to the same primary school as me. I believe they are both dead. Believe it or not but the children are the same age, 11.

Given that I've already told you that the picture is from the 1930's I think it's obvious that neither of them are me!

The school "friend" would have seen this picture nearly every week day for nearly six years... while she was was with me!

I can kind of understand her confusion as there is a picture in circulation somewhere of me in a very similar frock stood next to a boy in the year below me. She thought, in the picture, that I was the taller of the two!

Stupid girl!

Berlin from Rob P on Vimeo.

Our trip to Berlin in 2008

This time next week we'll be grabbing some breakfast and planning the rest of the day!

BERLIN BABY!

So fucking excited!

BRING IT!

... we'll be about thirty minutes from home after collecting Miss Soy UnPerdedor from Shannon airport.

By this point I think Brad will be asleep and I'll be boring her shitless pointing our landmarks in the dark that she doesn't care about and cannot see.

OR... Brad will be pointing out the landmarks while I sleep. Given that I'll be driving I do hope that's not how it goes.

So excited! I do enjoy having friends here. Especially fun friends!

And then... BERLIN BABY!

(I'm going to get very annoying with that!)

For those of you who subscribe to this blog via email or a feed reader please allow me to introduce you to my new blog.

http://DiaryofDreams.blog.co.uk/

I have the strangest dreams sometimes and thought I share. Feel free to analyse them should you wish.

The first entry is up.

Look at the picture then answer the questions below.

No.1. How old does the picture look?
No.2. How old do the children look?
No.3. Could either of these kids be me?

The email said...

Hello love,

Was going through some stuff from school. Is this you and DC or you and PM?

Mwah x

Is it even me?

I'll let you decide.

From the last 24 hours...

• I think I drank just a leeettle bit too much last night.
• I am walking very slowly and turning head, when needed, even slower.
• Am sick. Very sick. Must buy PS3.
• Currently only 2 things are certain. I will not be buying a PS3 today and my head is feeling worse.
• 10 minutes ago my partner disappeared to buy a car parking ticket. I have no idea where he has gone.
• Bless the Croatian man looks cute but a tad confused. Is he awake? #eurovision
• Ooh Portugal. It's not a six year old singing is it? #eurovision
• What is Andy Peters doing singing for Azerbazzajaza? #eurovision
• They do have shampoo in Bosnia don't they? #eurovision
• Has she eaten all the other contestants as they come off? #eurovision
• SHE MIMING!!!! #eurovision
• No one mention the war! #eurovision
• He's come oven-ready! #eurovision
• RT: #eurovison so that's what gok looks like without his specs (via @PaulPayneSpain) HAHAHAHAAAAAA!!!!!!!
• Deeeeta Von Titsoot looks bored shitless! #eurovision
• RT: Dita... Where do you keep your intestines? (via @Schofe) HAHAAA! #eurovision
• Nice to see an all male cast from Turkey. #eurovision
• Is that Albanias answer to The Blue Man Group? #eurovision
• Ladies and gentleman I give you @scoobydoofus at the age of 12. #eurovision #norway
• Where can you see lions? Not Norway! #eurovision
• Laaadddyyyyy in rreeeeddddddddd..... is a hooker! #eurovision
• They are all miming! This is shit! Fucking Russia! Ruin Eurovision! Wankers! #eurovision
• "It's my time to arrive" is just a posh way of saying "I want to cum now so keep going!" #eurovision
• Sweet fucking christ she's so out of tune! How did she win the context to represent the UK? #eurovision
• Rock me Ammmaadayyyus! #eurovision
• Is that Hannah from S Club? #eurovision
• Graham Norton = Presenter Fail! Fucking twat! #eurovision
• RT: Seems the new saying will be "dip her in glitter and throw her to the lesbians" #eurovision (via @ebbybrett) BOL BOL!
• Sweden to win! #eurovision
• Norton you fucking twat! We can see how big the pools are... there are people in them! FAIL! #eurovision
• Fucking political voting again! You pile of wankers! Pointless again! #eurovision
• Is someone fingering the Swiss woman as she announced the results? #eurovision
• Toyah Wilcox is Bulgarian? #eurovision
• Where can you see lions? Not Norway! #eurovision
• Norway are shit. Political voting again. Eurobollocks! So pissed off. It used to be great. Now it's shit. #eurovision
• He's not even signing... he's talking... out of tune! #eurovision
• Yes yes... I meant singing. #eurovision

... that is all.

From the last 24 hours...

• Huge congrats to top twitterer @bbillybilltweet. He's just become a grandpa! He's definately worth a #followfriday.
• After a nice type 4 I feel ready for anything.
• Bora da pobol y twitter
• chroesawa 'n grai canlynwyr
• Right, need to head off... going on a play-date with eye-candy from work. Sadly Bert is coming as well. Oh well, can't have everything.
• Mmmm coffee...
• Sooooo cute! twitpic.com/57hgr
• Thanks to everyone who gave me a followfriday shout-out. I shall do some follows in a while.
• b.o.R.e.d
• Flights to the UK booked.Now, what else can I do? What else can I buy online?
• Am very pissed.
• Am playing Who Wants To Be A Million-air with Bert and Eye Candy. I am very drunk.
• Lough Rea rules for red wine!

... that is all.

From the last 24 hours...

• No no no no.... I do not want to be up and awake at this time! I'm not in work for fucks sake! Bastard body clock!
• Must... make... coffee....
• Need coffee!
• Thanks to cows our power keeps going out! They really must run faster on those treadmills!
• Forgot to update Tweetie prefs now it work with Growl! Have so now and it's bloody marvellous! Time for more coffee!
• Ace new tattoo site! www.inkin.tk Join and you can see my tattoo in my naughty place ;) (please retweet - thanks)
• Whatever shall I do? bit.ly/aAR5j
• Tickets for Angels & Demons booked tonight! Marvellous! Early showing so eatery afterwards!
• Listen to my next ex-husband sing! Ain't he great! ? blip.fm/~695l6
• I cannot get "In The Bleak Midwinter" out of my head!
• OMFG! Soooo many visitors coming over! Sooooo excited! I may just fucking piss myself!
• It comes to something when I, the worlds most popular gay man, can't find the Barbara Streisand song I want in my iTunes library.
• TOP TOP CHOON! I command you all to listen and to be taken back to the mid 90's! ? blip.fm/~699dv
• Heading into Galway for shopping before going to the Eye for Angels & Demons.
• Walking around Atlantic Homecare, looking at stuff I neither need or want.
• I am only watching Angels & Demons to stare at my husband, Ewan. twitpic.com/55pwp
• I'm quite sure there is cum on the back of the seat in front of me which means he was a spurter or he sat in my chair. Vile.
• It could also be snot, which personally I find worse.
• Angels & Demons was good but not great but what can you expect from. Dan Brown book for children.
• Be it cum or snot of the seat in front it's gone now. I accidentally wiped it off with my knee as we left.
• Popped into work to say hello and I'm getting slagged off! Oh and apparently I'm the woman.
• Oooooh I'm feeling all clicky!
• RT: I'm trying to work out Twitter. If I can run a country I can do this! Shit! (via @thefuckingpm) *snigger*
• My body clicks that much I could make money as an exotic dancer for the blind!
• Can you still buy Zest and/or Shield bars of soap?

... that is all.

From the last 24 hours...

• Time to do something productive.
• Choon! ? blip.fm/~66hlh
• I can't decide if it's like "When @Sybastien Met @Firefly74" or ... "@Sybastien and @Firefly74 Make A Porno"
• Var var funnee bit.ly/pmmgm
• Retweet this if you disagree with Twitter's decision to hide replies to people you don't follow #fixreplies (via @RevOxley) (via @SeanWG)
• Mac & PC's. Will the war ever end? bit.ly/lM70W
• Enjoying a lovely visit from the guys from work.
• Off into Tuam. Anyone coming?
• You had me at urea.
• Back from the shops. Now what shall I do?
• Gah! Damn banner!
• Excellent new tattoo forum! www.inkin.tk Covers loads of topics, and not just ink! Come join me! (Please retweet!)
• Ace new tattoo forum! www.inkin.tk If you join you'll be able to see that tattoo in my naughty place ;) (Please retweet!)
• Are we back up then?
• This next time will be the last time... I kinda promise... but know I'll break it... at some point... maybe tomorrow?
• Ace new tattoo forum! www.inkin.tk If you join you'll be able to see that tattoo in my naughty place ;) (Please retweet!)
• Double firing tonight? #apprentice
• Please let Ben get fired tonight! #apprentice
• Margate? The gay Market? With Blackpool still going? Oh come on! #apprentice
• Margaret has just experienced her first orgasm in 73years. #apprentice
• Margate is Gods waiting room FFS! not Gays waiting room!
• They need that vile tramp that did the Haven adverts... "la la la la la la la come to life!" She'd spice up Margate! FAIL! #apprentice
• They do know they rebranding MARGATE don't they and not MARGARET?! #apprentice
• "I went to Margate and all I did was make this pot!" #apprentice
• Tourism expert? Some first year in Cabin Crew school!
• Does that man in pink know he's bald? #apprentice
• "Do you know Margate?" - "Yes!" Hahahahaaaaa!!! Howard Fail! You cunt! #apprentice
• Lets us not forget that Ben went to Sandhurst. They cannot fail! #apprentice
• "See Margaret through the eyes of a child!" - Nanny? #apprentice
• Howard you utter utter twat! Look at your audience that piss them all off! Cunt! #apprentice
• Bye bye Ugly Lorraine and Gay Howard. #apprentice
• Ignite only won because Ben went to Sandhurst. #apprentice
• Noooooo bring Howard the nobhead in! His presentation was SHITE! #apprentice
• Debra and Moan to go... Please Shug, please! #apprentice
• I could hear Howard's sphincter relax from here! And it's pre-recorded! #apprentice
• MARGARET: @LandersIE Nick likes to watch me through the eyes of a child. Takes m... Read More: is.gd/zAgQ
• #apprentice MARGARET: @LandersIE Nick likes to watch me through the eyes of a ch... Read More: is.gd/zAi2
• Wrong person to fire, Shug you dumb fuck! #apprentice
• July's purchase bit.ly/UAIcX opinions please.
• Right. Time for a fill-um in bed. Tweet tomoz. Oh and hello new followers.

... that is all.

And sadly went into my junk box!

I just hope I'm not too late! God, don't let it be too late!

Here ya go, have a read. My reply is underneath it.

To: Rob Partridge (rob_the_sex_god@everyone.wants.to.sleep.with.me.com)
From: Mary Mark (mary_mark004@yahoo.co.th)
Subject: Hello Mary
Date: 10 May 2009 02:08:32 IST
Attached: 3 images.

Dear Beloved in Christ,

It is by the grace of God that I received Christ, having known the truth; I had no choice than to do what is lawful and just in the sight of God for eternal life and in the sight of man for witness of God & His Mercies and glory upon my life.

I am Mrs.Mary Davidson,the wife of Mr.Robert Davidson,both of us are citizens of the united state of America. my husband worked with the Chevron/Texaco in Hong Kong for twenty years before he died in the year 2003.We were married for ten years without a child. My Husband died after a brief illness that lasted for only four days. Before his death we both got born-again as dedicated Christians. Since his death I decided not to re-marry or get a child outside my matrimonial home which the Bible is strongly against.When my late husband was alive he deposited the sum of 7.5 Million Pounds (Seven Million Five Hundred Thousand Pounds) with a Bank in Europe.Presently,

this money is still with the Bank and the management just wrote me as the beneficiary that our account has been DORMANT and if I, as the beneficiary of the funds, do not re-activate the account; the funds will be CONFISCATED or I rather issue a letter of authorization to somebody to receive it on my behalf (note that you need to activate this account) as I can not come over. Presently, I'm in a hospital in Hong Kong where I have been undergoing treatment for throat cancer. I have since lost my ability to talk and my doctors have told me that I have only a few weeks to live. It is my last wish to see this money distributed to charity organizations and NGO anywhere in the World in helping human race.
Because relatives and friends have plundered so much of my wealth since my illness,

I cannot live with the agony of entrusting this huge responsibility to any of them. Please, I beg you in the name of God to help me Stand-in as the beneficiary and collect the Funds from the Bank.I want a person that is God-fearing who will use this money to fund churches,orphanages and widows propagating the word of God and to ensure that the house of God is maintained.The Bible made us to understand that blessed is the hand that giveth. I took this decision because I don't have any child that will inherit this money and my husband's relatives are not Christians and I don't want my husband's hard earned money to be misused by unbelievers.

I don't want a situation where this money will be used in an ungodly manner.Hence the reason for taking this bold decision. I am not afraid of death since I know where I am going to. I know that I am going to be in the bossom of the Lord. Exodus 14 VS 14: says that the Lord will fight my case and I shall hold my peace. I don't need any telephone communication in this regard because of my soundless voice and presence of my husband's relatives around me always. I don't want them to know about this development.
I await your quick response to this mail as this is my last wish to see this funds transferred before my Death.Please my beloved for further communication on how we are going to conclude this,

I have also attached my pictureS with this email. This is the last picture I took with my late husband, the other two picture was taken when I was admitted at the hospital

Remain Blessed.
Your Sister in Christ,
Mrs. Mary Davidson.

And my reply...

Hello Mary, ("Goodbye Heart" - sorry just had to sing that, and i know it was "Hello Mary-Lou," may I call you Mary Lou?)

Very sorry to read your heart-wrenching story.

As a fellow Christian, reborn only four years ago, I would obviously like to do all I can to help you in your plight.

I only hope I am not to late in replying and you haven't already left us to meet with our Lord and Master.

Tell me what i can do to help you Mary. If God, in his divine light and wisdom, has any power to see your wishes carried out he will indeed ensure there is a branch of this European Bank in Ireland, more specifically in Galway.

Yours with much Christian love and understanding and hope. You will be in my prayers tonight.

I look forward to hearing from you very soon.

Robert

Now, what the fuck do I do if it's real?

I've always been one those Mac-Fans that accepts there is still a place for PC's in the world of 'puters. Lets face it, if there were no PC's what would us Mac people have to complain about?*

Recently though I have noticed that Microsoft do seem to be on the attack a bit more rather than on the defensive what with the "I'm a PC and I wear shoes. I'm a PC and I go to the toilet. I'm a PC and I can sneeze" adverts, and then the series of "Laptop Hunter" ad's in America where they gave people a set amount of money and told them to go buy a computer and everyone came back with PC's mainly because they were cheaper than Macs or there was a lack of resellers.

Well as much as I'm for the equality of PC's and Macs (I have to say that Macs Rock and PC's are shit - as a Mac-Fan I'm legally obliged to say that) this advert is absolutely brilliant! Well done Apple and up-yours Microsoft!

Enjoy.

applead from Gizmodo on Vimeo.

*Other than the lack of software, the cost of hardware, lack of finance in some countries, and more...

I love anything that takes the piss out of the Lord of the rings films.

Makes sure you have your volume up.

From the last 24 hours...

• Awake! Have been since 7am. Bah!
• I am trying to decide if I should start another part of "Ten Reasons Why" and if so which part.
• I may have to put a top on. I'm getting a little chilly.
• Right, going to play Halo 3 for a bit.
• Bored with Halo
• Need something to do.
• Don't want to go out.
• May write some more of Ten Reasons Why
• Writing another Ten Reasons Why instalment. It's harder than I thought to change names to protect the innocent - I'm so dramatic!
• And once again my fingers have a mind of their own!
• From Nick - OMG: www.todaysbigthing.com/2009/04/20 (via @soyster) Soooo cute!
• Gahn inta Tuam.
• Nice to see @thefuckingpope for sale in the Tuam shops. twitpic.com/51b9i
• And the next part of Ten Reasons Why is up. bit.ly/KEC4h
• cunt fuck shit arse bastard wank cunt shit asswipe fuck lick dick bastard
• Just trying to sort out my stats.
• Those two previous tweets will make no sense unless you are Bert and thanks to his inability to read it was a pointless exercise anyway.
• Listen to or skip... listen or skip...
• Should have skipped.
• Arrrrrrrrrrggghhh eczema! Goddamnit! Fingers on the verge of bleeding now! How attractive am I?!
• b.o.R.e.d
• Holy Christ! Go look - awkwardfamilyphotos.com - Var var funnee! Thanks @Mike12329
• Why do the hookers and whores in the sex phoneline and text adverts always look so retarded and simple?
• Right, I have the OS X update. What's new? Everything looks the same!
• Why haven't the producers of RudeTube realised that most of the stuff they're showing as "real" is just fake rubbish. Very annoying.
• Brad is sniffing and thinks he has swine flu because he had chilli yesterday. I'll get it now! You'll see!

... that is all.

*Names have been changed!*

If you were to start at the beginning of my blog or the original versions of dissertations I've written before various people got hold of them to edit and correct them for me you'd be forgiven for reading the following section of Ten Reasons Why and deciding that it's not possible, or you could come to the conclusion that I was very lucky and in the right place at the right time with the right collaboration of friends and colleagues.

It was the October of 1988 when a school teacher handed out our English assignment. We had to interview someone and make it sound interesting. I can hear him now telling us not to even think about interviewing either one of our parents or each other and I instantly decided I'd interview the teacher. My thought process was two fold. Firstly I could sit there telling him how fantastic he was and he might just give me a higher grade and secondly it would mean I wouldn't have to bother trying to work out who else to do. I'm sure that somewhere in the back of my head there was also the fact that he was gay, not openly but obviously, so there had to be a connection there between us somehow, something that would make this assignment easier.

I tentatively approached his desk while my peers turned heads to talk about who'd they interview. I could hear people saying they'd make it up or go to a parental workplace and interview someone there. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Steven Dawes, a fellow pupil, get up and begin making his way to the desk. He'd had the same idea as me, I just knew it. I had to get there first so I sped up my walking a little bit and won the race. Amazingly Steven slumped and walked off which meant, even more amazingly, I'd been right!

"Yes Partridge?" said Mr. Peters.
"Sir, I'd like to inter..." I started.
"No, you're not interviewing me. Now go away and find someone else!"

I walked away dejected and little pissed off that my English teacher of four years knew me too well.

At home I complained over dinner that I'd got no one to interview when father made the suggestion that I interview Brian Norris. Brian was a family friend who was journalist and also hosted his own TV show. My parents had been friends with him and his family for years and had holidayed together for as long as I could remember. Mother then suggested that I interview his wife instead, Deborah Norris. Deborah was a celebrity in her own right as a journalist and very successful author. In fact these days, since Brian's retirement, she far more well known in her circles than he is in his.

Later on that night I made the call and interviewed her. Although she'd watched me grow up and I wasn't shy around her I was finding it very difficult to ask her anything that would give me chance to write something that would get me a good grade. Finally the call was over and it was time to write it up properly. A week or so later I'd handed it in and awaited my marks.

I was stunned when I got an A for it. As I've said countless times in blogs and letters, my spelling is awful and my use of grammar is ridiculous but I get the point across. Anything I'm doing that is going to be used professionally is proof read over and over again by various different people before it goes out to anyone so to get an A for a piece of work I'd done was a big achievement for me, and I'm quite sure it was only for the subject matter and not the actual quality of the work!

Come the March of 1989 I was preparing for my GCSE's and getting confused over what I was going to do in the September. Should I stay on at school to do my A-levels or go to college and do a City & Guilds in something? What would get me a job and get me some money? While sat in a French lessons trying to explain to Jean-Claude that I'd lost my train ticket the North Station and needed another one before we could take the trip to the church, there was a knock at the door. A first year walked in, blushed, passed a note to the teacher and said, with a very croaky voice, "Mr. Peters sent this sir."

"Partridge, Mr. Peters wants to see you in his room at break time," he said.

The classroom burst into laughter and people starting wolf-whistling and making kissing sounds which make the French teacher blush. One look at our French teacher and you knew he was the sort to wear white y-fronts with a white vest tucked into them and the slightest hint of anything semi-erotic would make him cough and splutter, go bright red and try to change the subject. Making him blush was one of two ways we got out of doing anything that could be considered learning. The other was to ask him to tell us about life in France. We had things like this with all of the teachers and I'm sure they didn't realise what we were doing. If they had of done they'd not have carried on surely? With Mr. Davis, our history teacher, we just had to ask him what films he'd seen recently. With Mrs. Former, our Maths teacher it was a case of asking what life was like in the school when her father taught there. It always worked.

As requested I went to see Mr. Peters during the break. I hadn't got a clue what I'd done wrong but it would be something major and nothing new really. I was quite used to getting called into teachers officers as I wasn't the most obedient pupil.

"Ah, Partridge," he started, "I err... have some err... news."
"Oh?" I was quite sure I was about to be expelled.
"Yes, it's about that piece you wrote about Deborah Norris."
"Oh?" I said again, now thinking he'd decided I'd faked it so I was already getting my defence ready.
"Well you see, I was err... rather impressed with it."
"Oh right."
"Yes... and err... I... well you see I edited it a little and err... offered it to the local paper."
"Okay."
"And they printed it."
"Oh cool."
"And sent me a cheque for £15!"
"Fuck me!" I exclaimed. Fifteen quid was a lot of money in those days!
"Excuse me?" he said chuckling.
"I mean wow!"

He told me when it would be printed and apologised that it was under his name then he gave me the £15 in cash. Fag money!

A few months later, as I was just starting my GCSE's I was again called to see Mr. Peters. Once again sure I had done something that was worthy of an expulsion this time and not just the usual suspensions I'd suffered from day one at the damn school. Thankfully I was wrong.

Mr. Peters explained to me that the article about Deborah Norris had been sold to a Sunday magazine and he'd been sent a cheque for £200. Which he gave to me! Apparently he'd been contacted and asked if he was interested in writing some more freelance pieces and he'd confessed that it was a pupil of his that had written the piece. Apparently they'd been quite interested in this fact and wanted to know who my agent was. Mr. Peters had arranged for me to meet a man called George the next day at school who, if I agreed, would be my agent and/or manager and get me more freelance writing work.

I was amazed that this opportunity was falling into my lap given that I couldn't spell, so thankfully I wasn't amazed or let down when it got ripped away from me... sort of!

A few days after my meeting with George he rang me to say he'd been in touch with a newspaper and they wanted to know what I was going through as I approached my GCSE's. He'd also been in touch with a local newspaper and touted my services so they'd asked for something about the school. Neither article got published as both were utterly atrocious. George was interested to know how I'd done one article so well but the others so badly so I explained, although I'd thought Mr. Peters would already have done so, that he'd edited my basic article before he'd sent it to the paper. George was not happy as this was essentially proving that I couldn't write but he'd told people about me and how wonderful I was. All lies I'll have you know, and no I'm not trying to extract any kind of sympathy from that comment. Yes, I have a way with words but not when you ask me to write them down, I really am rather untalented when it comes to spelling and grammar.

George decided he was not going to give up on me. I would say this was because he was a teeny bit of a money grabber and could see I was too. He sent me a list of things to write about and asked for a thousand words on each. I did as I was told and it was from that task that the seeds of my future... or rather part of it... were born.

One of the things I had to write about was my favourite film. As some of you will know it's Rebecca. The original though with Laurence Olivier and Joan Fontaine and Judith Anderson as the marvellous Mrs Danvers! (can't really change those names can I?) George decided that the piece I'd written about the film would be great, once he'd edited it a little. So, with the intervention of Mr. Peters, a contract was drawn up where by George would get more than his usual cut as he edited my pieces before sending them off, and all I'd write about was films and the odd article about the actors in the latest blockbuster. An agreement was made with the local cinema and as well as receiving review copies of films on VHS I could go to the cinema and see the films before they were made public with the other hacks and freelancers.

Sadly George couldn't get many of my articles published as no one really cared about the opinion of a sixteen year old when it came to films. They didn't think I could be objective enough and would say things like "yeah so there was this big fight and this stuff happened and WOW THE SPACE SHIPS WERE REALLY COOL!" They couldn't have been more wrong.

I rang our family friend again and explained my dilemma. Given his line of work he should have been able to help and sure enough he did. He put me in touch with a few trade magazines, all of who were dying for honesty rather the usual tripe dished out by film reviewers who were obviously getting back handers from either the studio, an actor's agent or an editor (who was him(or her)self getting back handers from the same people) to talk about how wonderful the film was when it quite obviously wasn't. I'd happily tell anyone who'd read that I thought Ghost was rubbish (although Demi Moore did a good-ish job), and a few years later I was told off by one cinema goer for actually daring to say that Sharon Stone and Michael Douglas could really do with not being in anything ever again after the mess they'd made of Basic Instinct.

Films became my lovers, my bitches and my passion, and still are today. I don't just watch a movie and say whether it was good or bad, I watch for editing and continuity. I analyse the story and the acting. They have been the cause of many arguments, but have also led to more than the odd door opening up for me. In fact it was films that lead to me having my own radio show, a story that'll do for another entry.

I don't write anymore and there are many people grateful for that, and I really don't think it's something I want to (or could) get back into, but I enjoyed it while I did it. Occasionally Brian will comment to my parents that I should do something more but, and again I'm not looking for anyone to tell me otherwise or boost my ego, I'm really not that good. I was just honest and had a great passion for the subject.

To give you an idea of how crap a writer I actually am, I read this through four or five time before I made it a "friends only" entry for Brad's viewing. He found many more mistakes!

Without those people who helped me I'd never have done something wonderful and had a great time doing it. I got to meet and interview some fantastic people (and write about people I'd never met as though I had!) and write utter rubbish about total crap made by morons... and sometimes I'd actually enjoy a film.

From the last 24 hours...

• I am off work and awake. Time to exercise I think.
• Right, off for an epic walk.
• Freshly laid. twitpic.com/4z0s8
• You'll be lucky Mr. Canney. twitpic.com/4z0ut
• Alert the guards... @scoobydoofus is trying to steal a lambine! twitpic.com/4z1j7
• Oor hoose! twitpic.com/4z1l9
• Home after our epic walk. Was lovely but a tad tiring.
• RT: Quite possibly the very best kebab place in the world. 17 days and counting! mustafas.de/ (via @ScoobyDoofus) OH YES INDEEDY!
• SEVENTEEN DAYS UNTIL BERLIN! Huzzah! #berlinblogmeet
• Working on a section of "Ten Reasons Why" is bring back some funny memories and making me giggle.
• Listening to Tina Turner sing I Can't Stand The Rain and it's making me realise what a big Tina fan I am!
• EXCELLENT TRACK! ? blip.fm/~61i71
• Well the first part of Ten Reasons Why is up! Eep! Brought back some good and bad memories. is.gd/ySEY
• RT @pixeldeath: I need an illustrator for a character driven project - please get in touch with portfolio URLs etc. Spread the word. Thanks.
• Right, I'm off for a nice bath. TTFN.
• Actually I might twit from the bath. That'll be a first. Brings back memories of Charlie Skyping from the bath. *swoon*
• Nervously tweeting from the bath. I'm holding iPhone very tightly! twitpic.com/4zix7
• I'd tweet another picture but my bubbles appear to be going and I wouldn't want to upset anyone.
• Suddenly got very nervous leaning over to turn the hot tap on! Meant holding phone with one hand!
• Right, I suppose I should actual wash instead of messing with the phone. Talk to you later!
• Okay, out the bath. All clean and washed and feel refreshed.
• Do I start on the next Ten Reasons Why instalment or give it a rest?
• Joy! My fucking eczema has decided to flare up! I'm going to have itchy red hands all bastard night!
• RT: Check out www.inkin.tk a brand spankin tattoo site with artist sections for showcasing work get signed up and posting.(via @owlbassboy)
• You know, recession or no recession it still only takes six beer!
• I heart @scoobydoofus . You should to but he's mine, all mine.

... that is all.

"You spurn my natural emotions, you make me feel like dirt, and I'm hurt." sang the Buzzcocks, although when I sing it in my head I hear the Fine Young Cannibals and not Pete Shelley. Essentially though, whomever I heard, it still brings across the same question. Have you ever fallen in love with someone you shouldn't have fallen in love with? I have.

I've been in love three times but only once was with the wrong person. Everything else was just lust although at the time it was full blown movie love and one day we'd fly off somewhere and live the rest of our lives and millionaires, never having to work although we would but it would be in something we wanted. It wasn't actually all that long ago that I stopped having those kind of thoughts!

His name, the one I shouldn't have fallen in love with, was Luke. He was everything I looked for in a partner. Tall, six-pack, gorgeous, kind, considerate and treated me like a God!

There is a bar in Birmingham called Route 2 (it used to be Route 66) although people only ever refer to it as Route. Our nights out would usually start in Angels, a lovely quiet bar where we could meet chat and drink. We'd then move to Route as the drinks were cheap and they had a dance floor. Here we would really get in the mood for a club. I say a club like we had a massive choice. If you ignore the dives and hovels Birmingham's gay scene at the time only really had one night-club, The Nightingale.

Done with Angels one night we moved into Route. It hadn't long become Route 2 and the staff were behind the bar in crisp white shirts with the Route 2 blue and red logo on the left breast. They all looked stunning and Queenie (a name Andrew was given without choice!) and I were being our usual bitchy selves and rating each one out of ten for their ability to carry off the new uniform and then he came from the end of the bar strutting down towards us. He hadn't been there long but knew we were regulars as the other staff had pointed us out on his first night and thankfully the manager of Route was good to his regulars, especially us. Luke knew the three of us as Queenie, Sissy and Mandy although in reality we were Andrew, Duncan and Rob.

"Yes ladies?" he asked, "what can I get you?"
"Well are you on the menu?" asked Queenie.
"You couldn't afford me love!" he replied to which Queenie huffed and walked off to find us a table, shortly followed by Sissy and I with drinks. Two each as it was a two-for-one offer. This was Queenie's night to drive so we were all drinking! We would always take it in turns to drive but when it was Queenie's night he paid for a taxi for all of us to and from his apartment in town, and we all stayed at his, which made for interesting nights when one of us picked up some trade!*

The night went on with us eyeing up the twinks and trade that came in. We wanted to miss the act that was on at the Nightingale so had planned on staying in Route until we got a text from another friend saying the act was on stage, then we'd head over and grab a recently vacated table. The text came in but Queenie insisted we stayed in Route until closing and revealed he'd suddenly developed a bit of a "thing" for Luke. Convincing me to buy the next round from his money he asked if I'd talk to him and see if he was single and try and find out what his "type" was so Queenie could try and fit himself into that type and swoop in and grab him.

As any good sister should, I did as requested and found out he was single, working three jobs to get money for his business venture, had two brothers and lived with his mom. I found out his type and was quite shocked to hear how closely I matched it. Serendipity didn't visit me often and now it had it felt warm and fuzzy. I recounted our conversations to Queenie and he gave me more instructions. I was a little pissed off with this, as Queenie would have known should he have been paying more attention, so I stormed over to the bar and asked someone to fetch Luke.

"Yes Mandy?" he said.
"Look, it's Rob, not Mandy, and him over there," I said pointing to Queenie, who suddenly perked up and then went bright red "is Andrew and he's having hot flushes just thinking about you and is hoping if he can buy you a drink in the 'Gale later you'll go home with him so Sissy and I can sit in his lounge and listen to the two of you have sex. Now, what do I tell him?"
"Don't go to the 'gale. Stay here!" he said laughing.
"What? That's not a fucking answer!"
"Yes it is. Stay here. You'll see."

I returned to the others and passed the message on. Sissy and I agreed that staying here was acceptable so we did. At 2am a doorman started walking around the place asking people to finish up and leave. When he got to our table he asked us to move into the room at the back. The back room at Route was lovely and decked out like an gentleman's club with big leather seats and dark oak coffee tables but we rarely went in there as you couldn't see the potential trade walking in.

The manager came and sat with us and we chatted and he bought us drinks over and then one by one the staff joined us. We weren't the only customers still there and we'd been at a lock-in in Route before so nothing was surprising. Sissy and I actually knew Mark, the manager, quite well and I think Sissy had once dated him but it was a subject, like most of Sissy's ex's, that we didn't talk about.

Luke sat next to Queenie and they got chatting and sure enough a few hours later Sissy and I were sat in Queenies lounge listening to them having sex. Sissy and I had been meeting for nearly a year in Queenies lounge for MQCD's or Mid-Queenie-Coital-Drinks to give them the full title. I used to lie in bed trying to go to sleep and then one night I heard someone sneeze. I knew damn well it was coming from the lounge and the could still hear the sex so it had to be Sissy. I joined him and from that point on, anytime we heard the snap of a condom we'd knock on each others door and come into the lounge for a coffee or more alcohol. Eventually we'd hear one of them use Queenies en-suite and this would be the cue to go back to bed.

In the morning I was the first one up, as usual, and made myself a coffee. It wasn't long before Luke came out of the bedroom. He looked stunning with his messy hair, tired eyes and wearing only boxers. I think I actually stopped breathing for a short while as he walked over to breakfast bar and didn't start again until he smiled and said, in a rough low sexy voice "mornin' gorgeous!"
"Good morning," I replied and smiled, "coffee?"
"Please."
"So you had a good night last night then?"
"Well, I suppose!"
"Oh come on, Andy's not a bad shag. I've had him!"
"Yeah but when he's not the one you want it's just sex. I prefer to make love!"

I didn't know whether to get down on bended knee and propose there and then or if I should just vomit out of the window onto the passing public but I think my face was comment enough.

"Oh come on," he said, "don't look shocked. You know that was aimed at you!"
"What?!" I said, "I mean WHAT?!"
"Last night when I told you my type, you must have know it was you I was describing."
"Well, yes, I did think that but ... well ... !"
"I've seen you out, I know you're not shy! I've kinda had a crush on you since I started working in Route."
"Right. Okay. So you had a crush me and you fucked Andrew! Great!"
"Well you virtually ignored me when I came over to join you at the end of the night."
"I had to. He wanted you and you don't mess with a sisters mister!"
"Well I won't be seeing him again!"
"Does he know that?"
"Yes. I made it very clear last night, before I came back actually."
"Good!"
"So what are your plans for today?"
"I shall go home, do some washing, some work and then meet up with friends for drinks tonight."
"Fancy breakfast?"
"Yes of course. I'll make you something. What would you like?" I said trying to the good host in a friends house!
"No no, go get dressed, I'll take you for breakfast."
"Oh. Okay. Sounds... good."
"Leave a note for your friends. You won't be coming back here."
"Sound ominous!"
"No," he laughed, "well not unless you have a kinky side I'm not aware of!"

Breakfast was wonderful and it turned into lunch at his place then drinks out that night with him joining us. He was an utter gentleman and that night when he dropped me home he walked me to my door, kissed me on the cheek and left. In the car on the way back I'd already invited him in but he'd refused saying he knew it would lead to sex and he didn't want just a one night stand so would wait until we were both ready. I was ready but ended up waiting nearly two weeks!

Our relationship blossomed and although, co-incidently, he only lived a few streets away from me with his mother he spent most of his nights at mine. I met his brothers, all of whom were just as good looking as him. His mother was divorced from his father but I met both of them, on separate occasions, and both appeared lovely although his dad had a darker side I discovered months later.

We'd been together three months or so when he announced he was going to start his business up and would be off to see a bank manager that day. I was very pleased for him and wished him luck. That afternoon I got a text saying "Fucked off and annoyed! Going for a drink!" I replied asking where and that I join but never got a reply. When I rang his phone was off. I wasn't worried though. He was an adult and quite capable of looking after himself.

As midnight ticked by I tried his phone again but still it was switched off. One, then two o'clock and although I wasn't exactly worried I was concerned. He was my partner, I wanted to hold him and tell him there are other banks and that maybe I could sort funding out. I wasn't going to bed until I'd seen him or at least heard from him and that finally happened when he stumbled through the door, paralytic, at half past three.

"Where have you been?" I asked as I threw my arms around him.
"Out. I texted you and said I was going for a drink!" he snapped.
"Yeah but I didn't think you'd be so long,"
"If I want to go out I will!" he shouted as the back of his hand connected at high speed with the side of my face.

I stood there shocked, not knowing what to do. He slumped into the sofa and I went to bed telling him to fuck himself.

The next morning he was very apologetic and explained how he'd had a bad day. He'd got refused for a business loan and ended up smashing his car up on the way home, while sober I should add, but this lead to him going for the drink. He'd rang his dad who wasn't helpful, and never really was, and this lead to him getting very angry and drinking even more until he finally paid for a taxi back to mine. He got quite upset and assured me it would never happen again and I believed him. Why wouldn't I? Here was my perfect man, down on his luck, angry, pissed off and now crying and begging my forgiveness, which he got.

A few weeks later, after a similar disappointing day a similar beating took place only this time it was a punch not a slap. And I punched back. This lead to the two of us rolling around my lounge exchanging punches until he begged it to stop, and it did. Again tears, both of us apologetic and assurances we'd sort it and agreed not to tell anyone.

A week later I was on the phone to a friend telling them everything that had happened and I hadn't heard him walk in. I was slapped around the head a couple of times and actually took it, thinking I obviously deserved it as I betrayed his trust by telling someone else of our issues. I never fought back that time, or ever again.

For five, near six, months I was beaten, pushed, punched and pinched and every time it brought on tears for him with promises it'd never happen again, even thought I might have deserved it he'd always add.

When there was anyone else around he was the perfect partner which made it very difficult for any of my friends to believe me when I told them. One friend was so outraged at my lying that she took it upon herself to go and see Luke's mother one Sunday morning and tell her everything I said and advised her to encourage Luke to dump me.

His mother didn't take too kindly to this and promptly marched around to my house and began banging on the door. Letting her in she marched straight past me and into the lounge.

"Where is he?" she demanded.
"In bed!" I said although I could hear him up and scrambling for clothes, "what's wrong?"
"Stay here!" she said as she marched upstairs.

A few minutes later, with much complaining, she appeared in the lounge holding Luke by the ear and twisting it so he was in a lot of discomfort.

"He's leaving you. It's over!" she said.
"WHAT?!" I shouted.
"I know what's he's been doing and I'm ashamed to call him my son! He's just like his bloody father!" and with that she frog-marched him out the door in his boxers and walked him back to her house.

She rang about ten minutes later and through the sobbing I told her how I didn't mind the beatings and loved him and wanted him back and then she explained about his father and how he'd done the same to her. Thankfully, when my friend told her what I'd been saying she knew the truth and had decided to intervene.

Marcus, Luke's brother, turned up an hour or so later and over a coffee he told me how Luke had confessed everything to him and Doreen (his mother) and how sorry they were as a family. Marcus was actually there to collect Luke's stuff and the two us chatted some more while we packed. Damn shame he was straight as he'd have made a suitable replacement for Luke.

I only saw Luke again in passing although he did call me once to apologise. I called him a few choice names and hung up. I'd moved on by then! Obviously!

*I feel I should explain that trade can be anything from a rentboy looking for a client to a potential ex-partner.

I have found myself quite thoughtful recently and have decided to begin a set of reflective posts.

I have often started work on my autobiography and then done very little with it. The current edition stands at about one hundred and twenty pages and is filled with a lot of me babbling on about rubbish and why I've been inclined to write it. I think, by writing one event at a time, not only will it help me focus on that one thing it will also make me see which events should be in there and which are useless.

So, the reason for this post itself is not only to tell you my thoughts and plans for this blog, but to ask for your help.

As regular viewers will know I've been quite personal at times in this blog, sometimes in friends only entries and sometime blatantly out in the open about topics and subjects that some of you would rather I didn't talk about.

If you've read then you have some idea of the things I've been through, the things I've seen and experienced, the laughs and sadness I've had and you have some knowledge of the events of my life. Of the things I've talked about what do you think should go into my reflective pieces. You can leave a comment here or send me a PM, even email me if you wish but what do you think I should do a piece on. Which aspects of my life should I extend on. Essentially I'm leaving you in control! Now I think about it the idea of you lot being in charge of my blog is a little worrying!

Just so you're aware - should you wish to avoid them - the title of all the entries connected with my reflective pieces, or my memoirs, will begin with "Ten Reasons Why..." Why I'm using that as a title may come up at some point and some of you, at least one I'm sure, will have already seen something connected with it elsewhere on this site but that has since gone and been replaced.

So, what would you like know?