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.
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.
As many of you may know, I was raised in the Roman Catholic Church, an organisation that thinks sperm is sacred and their clergymen are not allowed to marry. We also have this sacrament called confession where we have to tell the priest our shit, like stealing our dad’s booze and looking at porno mags. This could also include behaviour like masturbation and things like having sex and enjoying yourself and or not going to church. Did I mention telling lies, smoking cigarettes and playing cards? Well they could be added in as well. In return the priest would give us a reward of lets say ten Hail Mary’s, six Glory Bee’s and a bunch of Our Fathers. It all depended on what you had ‘fessed up to. Perhaps it would depend on how the priest was feeling, I don’t know.
Many years ago I had been caught dancing with myself and my Mum in her religious fervour sent me off to see the priest. He was a dirty looking scare crow of a man and there was a bottle of Glenfiddich clearly visible on his counter top. I guess somebody thought it would loosen my tongue and provide a good confession. It certainly did, I like Whisky and I span him a whole bunch of lies instead, the joke was I did not care for religion by this time and sneezed at the idea and concept of confession. However I was living at home and my youngish mind, thought it a good idea to comply. Well to cut a story short I span him a load of stuff that would make a Madame blush, I swear the old pervert had a lip trembler going, he stank of booze and his blood shot eyes were horrid, as were his shaking hands. I think Half of that bottle disappeared in the couple of hours I was there, it was near Christmas and was piss cold outside. I have forgotten the penance he gave me, though I do remember not doing any of it.
If I was not sceptical of priests and religion before that point, I was afterwards and still am. More on that later on. I have recently been inspired to dig out some old artwork and share it again, I don’t think I have mentioned getting rid of a load of work a few weeks ago.
I am quite pleased with myself this evening, I have managed to leave the alcohol alone, despite their being a bottle of cider in the fridge. My cart Ninjas had the Scabies/Mange and is recovering well. He has been depressed and does not like being bathed and covered in ointment. Mr. Fox on the other hand, has been noticeable by his absence. I hope he comes home very soon. I love him.
The last few days have been spent digging up bits of the garden, planting stuff and making a couple of bonfires in the wheel barrow. I have also been drinking too much and am now paying the consequences for my actions. The garden is helping and so is abstinence, which is much easier when you do not have outside influences urging you to go and buy the stuff. To be honest, the stuff does not work the way I want it to anymore and it is clear I need a big long break from the stuff.
That I am happy will become all the easier in the next couple of weeks. The other influences will be gone and I can focus full time on the mending process. The last few months, have been a bit on the stressful side, for both of us and if there is anything I have learnt. It is that I prefer my own company (cats excluded) and am not entirely enamoured, with sharing my home, with other members of the human race. This may sound an awful thing to say, but it is true, denying it would be foolish and only cause more trouble.
I shall enjoy having the house back to myself, there is no doubt in that. I have plenty to keep me busy and the cats are always there to ignore me if things get rough. In the meantime, we are planning a few days out and making use of, the time we have left together. The grey cat, cornered our youngest today, resulting in a lot of squalling. I am aiming to settle that creatures hash, at the nearest opportunity, my reason? It pisses on my flower beds and upsets the children.
Whilst in the midst of not looking for work. (Something I am not very good at) and studying (which needs improvement) I have been dropping by garden centres and the like and getting things in the ground for the new season. Other than that, contemplating empty hanging baskets and mending the cat, not much has taken place. Now the weather is nice, I am spending a bit more time out on the bicycle. I need the fresh air, space and exercise, it helps clear out my chest and lungs to. You see there is or at least was some unwanted matter there. It’s not the Covid, probably more just dust and stuff. Anyway I felt a lot better for my ride out into town the other day. Spring time being here, it is probably a good time to get out, and taking more fresh air, getting fit again.
I was going to write about a foul medical doc. I watched the other evening. Happily it has been lost forever, instead I shall write about something else. Not gardening though, every other thing on this page must look like it is to do with gardening. It just seems more interesting than house work and clearing up behind the Children. (Cats) Trust me, there is nothing exciting about what those wretched animals do or leave behind, expecting someone else to clean up behind them. They are lazy, demanding and for two of them… Vocal. However I would not swap them for anything, and they will always come first. What else is there,? Not much to be honest, it has been a remarkably uneventful few days here. Most of my time has been spent gardening, studying and or painting. The rest of it, well day dreaming and that kind of thing. Not worrying my head if I do not need to and spending more time in the here and now than previously.
It is high time, I checked to see if the Stylus has arrived, after that I am going to do some more school work and read about the deprivation in London in the late Nineteenth century.
Today is going to be spent doing a few things around the place. I have a pond to measure up, a course of lessons on Russian history to put together and I may well go for a cycle ride and get me a bottle of Stout. It is St. Patricks day after all and being a good Irishman it would be rude not to. otherwise things here are going pretty good, met a couple of friends I have not seen in a while yesterday. in one case around fifteen years, they have not changed a bit. It is gladdening to see these recent travails what with the Convid have not affected them. Everybody is still bright eyed and bushy tailed and still possessed of their usual good humour. The old pond has found a new home and I have been asked to lend some gardening advice, which is great cause as I have a glut of tomato’s and other plants coming on.
After writing this, I am going to go do a bit of gardening and burn off some excess energy being creative and all that. I also feel like going to the garden centre, but you know something, these are dangerous places if you have a bank card with you. It is probably easier just to do some tidying up instead and make the place look nice. In due course, I shall be looking at getting some fish for the pond and work on creating a bog garden of some sort, if it is at all practicable. The idea of Newts, Frogs and creatures of a similar ilk pleases me immensely and having them in the garden even more so.
What else? Oh yes of course, I am celebrating today, not because it is St. Patricks day, but because I am single man again. Even better I shall soon have the house back to myself and even though that may sound a little selfish, it will be most liberating. The idea of being able to do my own thing at whatever time and making as much noise as I want cheers me immensely. Firstly I must start watching my eating habits, and dealing with stress more effectively, the first is easy, the second just as so. It is simply a matter of acknowledging the causes and then dealing with them in an effective and timely manner. The weather looks a little overcast and I currently have a cat sat over on my shoulders. It is a long time since he last sat here and he is a great comfort.