My new means of providing sustenance, shelter and material enjoyment is quite taxing, the place is kept warm, too warm. As a result I sweat like a beast in the mating season, I am damp with sweat, sometimes wet from Start to Finish every day. I must stink like nobodies business, the poor people who have to smell me. Twice this this week I have been forced onto public transport, due to either an unwillingness to sit in massive petrol queues, at least twenty cars long each with their mandatory social distancing in force, or the weather which wants to empty itself over me. I hate cycling in the wet, with my need for glasses only compounding that misery. Happily I got a decent sized amount of fuel just this evening, the queue was very small and only in the forecourt itself. Not half way up the bypass and buggering everything up as a result.
I criticised a man at the supermarket on the same journey, he had a several large trays of sickly looking Donuts telling him his rash behaviour would cause a national Donut shortage, people laughed. I have to watch my sense of humour, some people become aggrieved by it, mentioning things like the Spanish Armada or the Battle of Trafalgar to the Spanish. I just deleted a small chunk it did not fit and was irrelevant.
All in all I like my new and sometimes smelly new means of providing for my self, I try not to be too cynical about the people who live there, if not themselves, it is the system that has failed them. I am grateful for the steel toe boots I wear, I would hate to be wearing soft shoes in many of the places I tread. I regard each and every room as a potential health hazard, some of them more than others. Above all my empathy for other people has become more sensitive, yet at the same time more cynical. I like my place of work many many times more than that supermarket shop I worked in a few years ago. They used to put books in the fridges in that place and shit ran down the back wall from the turd lasagne’s in the men’s staff toilets. The toilets where I work are the cleanest in the whole damned city and I bet the county. I love cleaning toilets.
I don’t like Historian David Starkey’s style of delivery, but I don’t have to do I? That is one of the joys of having a free mind, being able to make one’s own decisions. David Starkey is without doubt a knowledgeable man on his chosen subject, he also knows how to put his foot in it. In other words, not mincing his words and perhaps speaking before thinking things through, perhaps he has no filter. This having no filter is one of the traits of having ADHD, which is something I would not wish visited on anyone and would not swap for anything, does that make any sense? I have been looking for jobs and new work a fair bit recently and am now working again, happily I am avoiding anything to do with food and shops, I don’t even speak to too many people. Lady Luck has smiled upon me, I have decent hours as well.
In case you are wondering why I mentioned David Starkey, I was listening to his documentary on Elizabeth 1st hence El Lizard Birth and all the rest of it. My job is quite intense and i sweat bucket loads, plus there are plenty of stair cases to negotiate. The nitrile gloves area tit to get on and fill with sweat which splashes everywhere when they are taken off. never mind I am happy to be working, it is worthwhile and for the common good I am glad to serving the greater community. the Fruit Flies are a pain in the arse, they love the smell of home brew (of which I have loads) perhaps if i pout them a blow of the stuff they will drown and save me the fag of spraying them with poison.
I am considering moving my financial interests to another provider, my current people are pretty crap, they close all their high street branches and their website is always broken. They are Cunts, their values are based around Socialist thinking and Socialism begets nothing but ill. Trust me, I have lived in a Socialist country and visited several more. I shall put my money that has branches on the high street, with people you can speak to.
I have been doing more painting and picking up a paint brush is not quite is daunting any more. I hope it continues for a long time, as my studies, and writing. The Home brew wine, in this case, Fig, Rhubarb and Plum is getting on my tits. The noise it is making is unbelievable I wonder what the end product will taste like. I want to bottle up the new Rhubarb wine soon, though to do that a host of bottles will be required. Iwant to design some labels and pass it off on unsuspecting relatives and friends. I shall drink the rest in due course.
last night was one of them nights, and a quite familiar experience of recent. How I long for a decent nights sleep again. saying that I do not actually feel as tired as all that, despite having slept for less than 5 hours or at least it seemed like that, certainly not enough. I recall looking at my watch which read 3:30 or something stupid. I swear I had spent most of my time to this point tossing, turning and every other exercise apart from actually sleeping. Perhaps I have too much going on in my head and not being able to find the off switch only exacerbates the whole thing. What else? I went out this morning looking for Mr. Fox. Foxy is my cat who has been missing for an inordinate amount of time, though he has been ‘spotted’ a couple of times, it is now just a matter of either catching him or his coming home. I have to go knock on a door or two in the next couple of days and deal with someone who may be harbouring him, he or a cat like him, has been spotted coming out of there, so who knows. I do not know how I might react if someone has knowingly cat-napped my pet. part of me would want to tear their head off, the other half to do something else.
Another batch of homebrew is getting started, Rhubarb, Plum and Fig this time. First time I have tried the recipe and playing it all by ear. The Rhubarb from earlier in the season is now ready for bottling. The stuff from last year needs filtering again and ought be good for drinking very soon. Then there is the Parsnip and Plum wine to be considered, I think I shall keep the current lot for home consumption and part of any future brew will be passed onto unsuspecting friends and relatives. One imagines, with some simple distilling equipment it can be possible to cook a load of this booze down into a passable liqueur, especially where the Plums are concerned, I am sceptical of the Rhubarb being cooked down into something new though you never know what it might turn out like unless you try.
Job applications, stuff for the Job centre and more exciting stuff have been dealt with, at least in part or in mind. The rest of it shall be completed presently, along with a heap of fiction to make it look like I have done something in accordance with my job seekers agreement, Like spending 40 hours a week looking for work. I think there are better and more profitable things to be doing with my time, though I guess telling that to the employment advisor might be not be such a great idea.
Twenty years ago I was sat down watching the box and saw what a bunch of mad people did. Whether it was a bunch militant Arabs, or psychopathic elites and their lackies it does not matter. What we ought remember is, those who died, how the state of the world has changed since then. Finally what human beings are capable of, when their ego’s get out of hand and they are given too much power and money.
Other news now. The weather has been quite pleasant these last days and I have compelled myself to a whole lot of things. Mostly gardening, a large amount of gardening. Having got a whole load of stuff done outside, it is now time to do a whole lot of stuff inside. This inside stuff includes writing blogs, preparing fruit for turning into wine and making my excuses to the job centre. I long for the day, when I no longer have to claim govt. support and relish telling them to f*ck off. Not that that is ever going to happen, its easier to be polite when ending a relationship. You never know if you might need that some ones help again. Talking about Job centres, I am thinking of applying for a different realm of work, I like gardening, but would I want to be a gardener. I use it to deal with my life stresses, ideal perhaps, but would I want to garden my own garden? Imagine how chefs feel after a long days work in a kitchen. Going home and cooking yet more food in their own kitchen. Or do they get a kebab on the way home instead. I used to cook for a living and did so on a regular basis, eating the stuff I cooked at work, got a little tiresome after the first week. So kebabs ruled.
Funerals are probably best left alone, as are shops and supermarkets. If I find myself involved with retail again I may well kill myself. (After doing a lot of other people first) I abhor violence and would not want anyone to have to clean up after losing it. I love nature and animals, though the pig farm is not the sort of place I would want to involve myself with. Nor the egg company, they are too much like Auschwitz for animals, in fact the only difference between these places is the commodity involved. I cannot think of a more foul species on this beautiful planet we share. I dislike slugs with a passion, especially when I step on them in bare feet. Spiders, once my most feared and hated ‘opponent’ is now a favoured friend. Rats, Mice Cockroaches and other beastly things… Only ants are so violent and destructive towards members of their own species.
Hello good morning and all that, the sun is shining here and it looks to be the beginning of quite a nice day. It would of course be nicer if I found out how that application or applications went for the various jobs I have tried for went. I dislike being kept hanging around, it does nothing for my bowels and is generally tiresome. All the more so, when they said they said Tuesday. Perhaps it is simply easier to work for myself, it certainly skips DBS and the rest of it, which result in further delays and tiresomeness. There are several other things I would like on top of employment news, they have been mentioned previously, it would be pointless mentioning them now, it won’t help and might even result in sounding boring. I have decided to reopen a recently closed account of sorts and am now wondering if it was the right thing to do, sometimes this brain of mine drives me mad I will not mention what other humans can do to it. I honestly think being a cat would be much easier, especially that sleek black one who spends all her time on the windowsill sunbathing.
My boy Ninja is now cone less and his wounds have cleaned up nicely. He still looks a little patchy, but that is only cosmetic his coat will grow back soon enough. Right now he is enjoying the sun and pretending to ignore the Goldfish. I went to a job interview and it was a car crash, I hope to Christ I do not get the position though knowing my luck… Despite this and other setbacks I have managed several chuckles today cause I bought an old copy of a grown ups comic with lots of swearing and other amusements in it. The only thing it is missing is The Bum Faced Goats, The Bottom Inspectors and several others. One imagines they will be available in other issues of this fine publication. The one I introduced my Dad to as The Beano for grown ups.
What else has happened? Not much to be honest. It has been a pretty boring day so far and a pretty tiresome and drawn out week for that matter. The shit next door’s taste in noise has dropped down a couple of notches. These days it sounds like a bunch of angry black people ranting away at some stuff or other. trying to fathom what they are saying is beyond me, but there again do I really want to know.? I think a dogs fart has more harmony to it than that rubbish and I thank God I was born at a time when we actually had decent music to listen to. I have another interview in a short while, however I am sick of the damned things, that and filling in application forms, tweaking cv’s and a whole bunch of other like crap.
I closed a web account today, I thought that it no longer served my purposes, or was otherwise not part of my current vibration. Sorry to sound pretentious, but that was the word on my lips (fingers) So that is what I typed. Upon further thinking, that web site does address my current needs, but due to various things, including self doubt, anxiety and disagreeing with some of the content used on that site. Plus uncertainty over the username, increasing angst and forgetting that maxim about making decisions, whilst under emotional instability, I killed my relationship with something, that had not been part of me for any serious length of time.
I have recently revisited another website with whom I distanced myself. What for do I hope to think it may ne different this time. Yes I do, but there again I think what’s the point? How long will it last? Or I repeating myself, I fully acknowledge, that yes I am. To hell with it, so what, fuck it and so what.
I shall do further decision making, based upon sound and sober judgement. I shall also look forward to writing earlier in the day and not just before I am planning to go to bed.
Today was spent mostly making a bonfire and burning a load of garden waste. In doing this I thoroughly enjoyed myself and look forward to the next lot of burning, when it happens. Fires are grand things, at least the ones I make here are. Some of them can be downright inconvenience, causing all sorts of trouble. Both of my old schools had serious fires at some point or another. It was not me, I promise you. One was a faulty television set. The other reputedly set by Auberon Waugh, was also blamed on the headmaster of the time, doing an insurance job. The founder of my first school, still floats a few inches above the floor through the Old House, marking the height difference between the old and new buildings. My old school is the village of Frensham in Surrey. If you want to know who the other gentleman I mentioned, Look here. My first school, started life as a circus. My last place was in the news for all the wrong reasons. The Monks managed to disgrace themselves. Several times actually.
When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the LORD, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Saviour; I give Egypt for your ransom, Cush and Seba in your stead. I am not stupid, I did not try to walk through the flames. I have tried it before and started to burn for my efforts. I think I have mentioned, the fire in the air raid shelter story before. It involved more than a little paraffin, and being on the wrong side of the conflagration in relation to the exit. Today did not require the use of Paraffin and I am writing later than usual.
I was planning, on writing about something, from scripture today, clearly I was not meant to. Not yet anyway.
My nerves feel at breaking point and my mind is trying to spin me all sorts of strange and sometimes unpleasant ideas. One minute the idea of killing myself pops up, the next how peaceful death would be. Then some fucker comes along and reminds me off the person who finds the corpse, how are they going to feel… I want my cat to come home, I miss him dreadfully and want to hold him in my arms. The rest of it is down to Cyclothymia. I am currently experiencing a downward mood. It’s not fun, but I have to take the rough with the smooth. Happily it makes for something to write about.
I have been wanting to go buy garden shredders and chain saws, a result of doing the garden. I have done loads out side. chopped stuff back, cleared away waste. I have finally planted the vine, in the greenhouse. The flower pots are now in a neat pile at the back, they will be sorted in due course. The Tomatoes look and taste beautiful, far better than the crap in the shops. The bits I want to remove on the Nut Tree have been marked. Chopped up, it will make beautiful fire wood. As will the pile of stuff in the hollow. Something for the equinox perhaps. Blessed be.
I guess I shall be creating a missing notice this afternoon. That and or, going knocking on doors, with a photograph. There is no Karate training tomorrow evening, which means I can spend the day looking for him. Unless of course, he does what he did last time. Appearing as soon, as I start looking for him. So why am I writing this, when I could be out looking. Well TBH I told myself I would do the garden first, then blog and whilst being creative, would make a missing cat sign. All while, thinking about food. I am going to put something on to warm in a couple of minutes., then do the notice. All whilst listening to Roger Waters solo project: ‘The pros and cons of hitch hiking’ This version appears to be missing; 5.06 AM Every strangers eyes.
When I was a youngster, I had an Action Man toy, who’s limbs could be pulled out of their sockets and left to dangle. \sometimes they fell off and would be reset by my Mum, a physiotherapist. This would be done with a rubber band and things would be as right as rain almost immediately. I went training last night and had my arms and legs pulled out of their sockets, twisted around and left feeling sore and bruised. Is this some kind of karma for my previous abuses of my plastic mannequin figure manufactured by Palitoy? If so, it has been carrying on long enough and today I can barely move without feeling like my leg or arm are falling off. I had a couple of Action Men , the latter one had ‘Eagle eyes’ that operated through a lever in the back of his head, he also had flock hair. Over the course of his glorious career, Action Man acquired a tank, a whole bunch of guns and a deep sea diving suit, the old fashioned type. Which he used to investigate the bottom of the garden pond. His attempts at parachuting out of the bedroom window, met with mixed results, my parents clearly thought it was a dangerous hobby, refusing to sanction this new hobby. To circumvent this drawback, I manufactured a ‘chute out of a section of fabric, tied string to the corners and around AM’s torso like I had seen in the films on tv, fully encouraging this new, exciting activity. Landing on solid concrete from about 30 feet up, without an adequate means of deceleration has it’s drawbacks. AM was hard as f*ck, he was so hard he had a scar running down his cheek.
Other news, or soon to be news. I am going to potter around in the garden today, enjoying the sunshine and doing garden related stuff. I may go for a cycle afterwards, this time taking the correct bunch of keys, so I can lock the bike up in town. I shall probably be getting a re-supply of my medication as well. Though that will depend on my dealer and his whereabouts. Happily I have a few days worth left and may well not bother. Running out does not bother me nearly so much as it used to. I really want to get some stuff up in the attic and some other stuff down. I shall be relaxing my mind away, from those things I do not get done and cheering myself on those that I complete.
I am surprised Action Man has not been ‘woked’ yet and being marketed as Trans Action Man. I think I may well have to write on this at a later time.
The mosquito creature clearly knew its stuff, I say knew cause I hope after drinking my blood it is now a dead mosquito. No creature can go throw the experience of drinking my red stuff without some ill effects, alcohol poisoning or raging amounts of THC in its veins to say the least. The females it seems can go on for 46 days or more, whilst the males barely manage a week and die soon after mating. I bet the sod that bit me was a nasty evil bitch, I hope someone slaps the f*cker for me and gives it an itch it cannot scratch. In fact reserving all my displeasure for these creatures seems far more satisfying than muttering dark words about governments, Johnson and Sleepy Joe. At least Mozzies seem to know what they are doing. I bet they have tons of the wretched things in Afghanistan, maybe the Taliban will radicalise them to bite non believers. The trouble is of course it is only the females that bite and going by their rules that would be way out of order, can’t have the females going out and working, that breaks Sharia law.
This excerpt is taken from “A Thousand Splendid Suns” A novel by Khaled Hosseini. One wonders if extremists of the Taliban stripe would allow women to become martyrs to their foul cause or do they only accept impressionable young men who are full of zeal and stupidity and perhaps Testosterone to know any better. Maybe the lure of 72 virgins is too much for them and they want to get stuck right away. The poor ignorant gullible fools, if they fail in their task they will more than likely end up with 72 suitors in prison instead. Surely being condemned to the fiery pit in allowing themselves to not only be screwed, but in failing to blow up the infidels as well. Allah in his made up glory will cast them away from him, like dirt off the proverbial shoe. Why is it that all these people we see piling onto aircraft at Kabul aircraft all men? Piling over the women and children and leaving them to fucked, raped and murdered by the Islamist Taliban scum? twenty years of western interventionist imperialism and now a total gang fuck. How many lives lost or shattered for nothing, I hope George W and his mate Tony can see what their folly achieved. They and few other people ought to be dragged outside, help up to public ridicule and shot. Their successors can get stuffed as well. As for the Taliban and any one else who preaches hate and subjugation… Well to say anything more, would probably be considered a hate crime. Anyone who wishes to follow such a vile creed, ought have their heads examined to say the minimum and packed off to Syria or Saudi Arabia on a one way ticket to be certain.
Other news, I forgot I was due in Abingdon today, a departure from the usual date as one of us was doing stuff. Had an interview, soon as I got home. I must feed the fishes. Lulu the cat is sitting on my new book.