Coughing horses and see-though students.

I'm on a training course (its a BMC Remedy course if ya must know and I'm on Day 8 of 10).....

So I have to be quick as I only have a few minutes between modules and Lab exercises (nothing to do with Labradors, no court orders were breached!) but the keyboard is SO loud that people are looking at me and today I'm pretending to be translucent.... not totally invisible cos that's silly, but just enough to get me on the news... think The Abyss or Donnie Darko

Then there's the fella sitting next to me... He's our assigned COUGHING MONKEY. I know every course, seminar, meeting, cinema, animal research lab and doctors surgery has to have its complement of coughers, but the one we've been assigned is attempting to launch a slice of his infected lung across the room and onto the whiteboard..... This is not a gentle "ahem" politely placed into a tissue or perhaps an enclosed hand, but what seems at first to be the death rattle from a wild horse just off my right shoulder.

Anyhow, its almost lunch time.... not much to report there, I did ask if the manky looking "lunch" had been tested on ex-Soviet Spies but I don't think they got it.

For Jillian (my niece)....and my sister Susan.

It seems an explanation is required for a previous post.

So, to answer your question... no.... no I'm not in love with the ex wife Linda. I may be "in love" with that particular time in my life, but its a far cry from actually being in love with someone I haven't seen or heard from in the last 13 years.

It has been suggested that if Linda was to "reappear" I'd drop everything to be with her. Hmmmm, that's an interesting one. I'd like nothing better than to meet up with Linda, I think she's got a lot of explaining to do, some of which could end the remorse and guilt I know she should be suffering from. But if the suggestion is that I'd give up "who I am" and "what I've got" to be with at best a liar and worst an internally deceased emotionally barren purveyor of STD's then some people need to update their perceptions........

(wow I just read that back... for someone who says he doesn't care I'm sure putting a lot of emotion into it! Yikes)

Anyhow, what you need to understand is that "those" people no longer exist, there is no-one to fall in love with.

There are three things you should never return to, no matter what.

1. A dud firework
2. An ex girlfriend (this includes Ex Wives who "re-appear" with delusional expectations)
3. A wounded Ninja

I hope that puts an end to any confusion about the ex wife.

@rse over tit....

I could of fallen off the bike, oh yes.... tight left hander, magnesium knee sliders spraying a shower of sparks into the air as the lean angle allows me to almost touch the hot tarmac.... As I concentrate my attention into the far distance I don't notice the smallest of diesel spills which has exactly the same dimensions as the credit card sized contact patch my front Avon uses to hold over 300lbs of racing machine (and human) to the road surface.. Within a fraction of a second the bike has low-sided and I'm sent spinning across the road, across on-coming traffic and into a variety of road furniture............

It could of been like that.....

but it wasn't.

I actually fell UP the stairs at work. Arse over tit. Latte in one hand, bacon and sausage bap in the other. The first thing to touch mother earth was my right knee cap, it slammed into the metal edge cover and then had the best part of 17 stones of pure British lard jack-hammer it home.

Yes... it hurt. I swore a lot.... repeatedly. The pain was so intense I almost lost grip of my bacon and sausage bap (the latte was mostly a stain on the wall at this point).

The security guard (who is stationed right next to the stairs) immediately called for the Duty First Aider, smart move you may think, only, I am the duty first aider..... After I stopped screaming I switched off my First Aid pager and returned to my "screaming like a little girl" routine until a small crowd had gathered.

Luckily, there was no claret, if there had been the screaming from me would of stopped sharpish as I passed out (as a first aider I can handle other peoples blood, but not my own). I could feel my knee cap swelling by the second and I could feel the unmistakable signs of shock welling within.... cold, clammy, gray skin and a raised heartbeat. I took refuge on a nearby couch just as one of our other first aiders arrived (thanks Ann!)

It was quickly established I needed a visit to E&A pretty sharpish, there was no way I was gonna waste a busted knee cap on an ambulance so Chuckie volunteered to drive my car with Ann and myself to St. Peter's Hospital.

After lots of poking about, x-rays and a heroic dose of painkillers it was established that I hadn't broken anything and it was no more than a very nasty sprain/twisted knee and severe bruising.
In good old NHS fashion I was fitted with a tubular bandage and a shiny pair of crutches and told to naff off home for tea and sympathy.

and thats where I am now, "working from home", high as a kite on Tramadol (Hmmmmm, t-r-a-m-a-d-o-l) nursing a right knee cap the size of one arse cheek while watching daytime TV.

The killer stairs, tried to take me and my bacon & sausage bap OUT.... not forgetting my knee cap

I was never told what happened to my bacon and sausage bap. We went through a lot that day.

I'M BARRY SCOTT..... I SAID I'M BARRY SCOTT!

So I have a thing about cleaning.... I do take an unhealthy interest in cleaning products and can sometimes be found in the household cleaning isle at Tesco's gently caressing various bottles of detergent....... in a non sexual way you understand.

I still get thrown out by security, but only if they are new in the job, the regulars just move me along with a pointy stick

Anyhow, I don't expect you to understand, only me and Barry Scott know the real buzz a Universal De-greaser can give (again, it's nothing sexual...)

So, there's a new TV advert for Cillit Bang Lime & Grime..... but there's something wrong. I think Barry may be suffering from hearing loss. Why? well, just listen to this advert..... try not to swayed by Cillit Bang's amazing cleaning power, it's Barry's shouting that's in question.


You see! He just SHOUTS throughout the advert, and its not the first time I've noticed this. It's that poor lass standing right next to him I feel sorry for, she probably shat herself at the first take.

What is one to do?

So, I find myself with nothing better to do than blog.

It's never a good way to blog (for me anyhow). I know it will turn out to be rubbish, far too long and will stay on my site abusing my eyes for days.

That's why I could never be a professional writer. There are many things preventing me from doing this (list far too long to put here) but the biggest hurdle for me would be writing about stuff I'm not interested in, to a deadline and with a word count........ which pretty much puts a stop to that career.... but let me give you an example......

The ongoing battle for power with the Democrats and Republicans and recent mid term elections* as reported by our man on the street "The Man From Delmonti"

"Fat hairy knackers with the lot of them. Dull, corporate soul-les suckers of Satan's genitalia everyone of them. Don't vote because it only encourages them..... it's your democratic right after all"

See! I'd be pushing a shopping trolley and routing through bins within a week.

If you wanna know how writing should be done, by a REAL professional writer, then pop over to Kat's gaff and check it out.





*if any of this text is wrong, then blame my US of A work colleague (Mike) who gave me the technical info about US politics.

If there was a drug.....

The sun is low, there’s a slight frost. I stand at the window, it’s cold. Cold enough to warrant a sly smile, the kind that you know has come from a past memory.

I see me now, looking from my window, grey and alone. But it’s not what I see in my heart, I see me at age 23, looking from a different window onto a different scene but lit in exactly the same way.

My silent here-and-now world is in stark contrast to the one I’m re-living in my minds eye. There’s the empty but running Ford Escort that holds my attention, I started the engine, turned on the heaters then re-entered the house and took up my position at the window, watching the car as the windscreen defrosted….. and waiting for Linda before we drive into Durham.

I’m almost 40

and occasionally, I still find myself waiting for her.

The song in my head right now was written for me sometime ago
This is The Truth, written and performed by Goober