Monday, 31 October 2011
Tuesday, 25 October 2011
I have therefore started up a separate blog and have told nobody of its location. Essentially it is a notebook for me; I never remember to carry one of the various notebooks I have purchased or been given over the years yet I always have my Blackberry with me. Therefore, if I suddenly think of something while on the move, I can send an email to my blog (as I am doing now) and the notes will be added automatically, ready for the next time I manage to log in on a PC*. It's proved quite useful so far and yesterday I self-diagnosed (well, I provided the symptoms, the diagnosis was performed by someone far better qualified) possible mild autism in myself. Mild autism. Not full autism if there is such a thing. Drizzle Man, if you like.
*not such an easy task since the IT Hamsters at my work have decided to block access to the Blogger website I use for the blog you are reading now.
So, all this to say that I won't be writing much of any significance here on a frequent basis until I am in a position to share something more weighty with the world. Ideally this will happen before the Internet is superseded but don't hold your breath. I will undoubtedly persevere with the random thoughts but very much doubt they will find much of a purpose.
Bear with me.
Thursday, 20 October 2011
Can't help but think that the headline news was mistakenly copied and pasted in the wrong order for the newsreader on Absolute Radio this afternoon. Still, maybe they've got it right if the arctic temperatures we are expecting lead to numerous Scots and dirty northerners suffering mild colds, flu, death or manflu.
Reminds me of a French national news program I once saw which was so national-centric that in the running order, George Dubyah's re-election came fifth, directly after a story about a mysterious disease affecting vines in a small region of south-west France. Again, I have to agree with the editor (or whoever it is on news programs who works out what gets into the schedule and in which order) as a bottle of Bordeaux is far more important than any lasting impact junior Bush will leave on the world.
Now this seems to be turning into some sort of news review, I may as well carry on as I watch John Snow teach me about the day's happenings.
It's all been kicking off as the inhabitants of Dale Farm are tasered away from their illegal homes. I've done an extensive amount of research and Wikipedia reports that it was established in the 80s whereas the Dale Farm blog claims it was the early 90s. Either way, we're looking at 20 years minimum so it beggars the question, 'How long do you have to remain in one place before you can no longer class yourself as a traveller?'
Saturday, 15 October 2011
Tuesday, 11 October 2011
Others are wrong. They so often are. Most would disagree.
I was right this time though. A week ago I was riding the crest of the
page view wave. After the last post where I wondered whether I'd crack
the magical One Day Ton, I was astounded to do it again the following
day without posting a single thing.
Now, I'm not one for exclamation marks as I feel as though the reader
should be able to determine their interpretation of the words and
apply their own tone and understanding to what they are reading.
Exclamation marks are dictatorial, bordering on fascist, in their
demands for your brain to read the words in a certain way. I am one of
the brave few who rails against the unnecessary evil which is the
exclamation mark. Anyway, that sentence at the end of the last
paragraph could, I admit benefit from one. But do I now re-write it
with an excitable exclamation mark, delete this paragraph and continue
on worrying about people reading and thinking that I must be some sort
of run-of-the-mill idiot who brandishes willy-nilly an inverted 'i'
without the merest obvious hint of irony or apology? I'm not sure of
the way out of this paragraph now. I think I am going to abruptly end
it without any way, shape or form of grammar or punctuation and leave
people baffled as to where to go next and hope that they do not notice
what is at the end of
I was astounded to do it again the following day without posting a
single thing! This is incredible, thought I. For a little bit of
effort and a tiny 'please please please pay my blog some attention'
post on Facebook, the fruits of my labour were more than I could have
hoped. And that was just on Day 1. Day 2 was an almost-as-eager puppy
but then the market crashed. My page views dropped dramatically and
the high was gone as quickly as it came. But it's not the departed
highs which hurt; it's the devastating lows. One page view today. One.
But then the questions start messing with your mind:
- what am I supposed to write next?
- how do I know it will be interesting?
- will people tell their friends so that more people can feed my habit?
And that all leads to a paralysis which prevents any words finding
their way on to a screen.
So I've decided to buy a smock, quit my job and wear a beret. If I am
going to suffer from an inability to write, I've got to look the part.
Thursday, 6 October 2011
or another, I have always prided myself in my ability to construct a
balanced and objective stand point when discussing a contentious
Two weeks ago I was on the receiving end of someone placing a nice
sticker on my windscreen telling me my parking was fine. I was always
one to be pleased when earning certificates though have never been
asked to pay for one so was a little shocked to be told that this one
would cost me £110. Still, time moves on and I guess the economic
downturn means that I have to contribute towards the salary of the
fine gentleman who adjudged my parking to be fine. And, get this, in a
special early autumn offer, if I choose to pay for my fine parking
within 14 days, they have a 50% off sale so I can be the proud owner
of my parking fine for a mere £55. Bargain.
This morning I thought I would give the lovely people at Kingston
Council a call to thank them for this wonderful opportunity but also
to regretfully decline their kind offer as I felt that there are
others more worthy of having their parking recognised in such a way.
The Customer Services Gimp was most pleasant all the way through our
delightful conversation, explaining that I was fully deserving of my
Fine Parking Certificate. However, if I wanted to pursue my request
not to be the proud recipient then there was a process to follow so
that eventually I could speak with Big Chief Parking-Adjudicator for a
specific 15 minute slot in which I could lay claim to not having to
pay for my award.
Drawing on my years of dealing with customers, I succinctly and
objectively summarised the situation, the options and the way forward
before calling him a tosser and hanging up.
So now I am going to pay for my fine parking purely so I do not have
to speak to the same Customer Services Gimp again. One day I will
learn not to resort to ending frustrating conversations with
completely childish remarks purely because I am not winning the
And his mum smelled of poo.
Monday, 3 October 2011
It's only about 6 hours since I mentioned this blog to 111 of my
closest friends which makes 113 people who are aware of its existence.
Not that the other two aren't my closest friends; just that they don't
use or won't befriend me on Facebook.
Since then, I've got slightly obsessed with Page Views. I wish I
hadn't discovered that I can access the blog 'dashboard' on my phone.
That would have saved me a lot of time; not logging in every hour to
see how many people have read something I've written; being excited
when I see that 30 pages have been viewed in the last hour or
disappointed when there've been only a few views.
I can see this becoming addictive. So far, it's all 'wow, I wonder if
I'll get to 100 page views within 24 hours, that'd be amazing' but I
fear the downside. What happens when I get none in a day? Do I start
wearing blog patches to ween me off? Do I take up crack to lessen the
lows? Is this going to turn me into a druggie and a junkie? (You can
be both; my dad told me).
But then you can go even further into the stats. You can see how many
times each post has been viewed. Currently, more people have looked at
the mundane photo of an airport window than have read the lovely story
about my friend Paul.
I like to think that most of my friends are intelligent souls but it
seems that the majority would sooner look at a picture with pretty
colours than spend some time running their finger along the screen,
silently mouthing the words as they learn about my encounter with an
Fair enough. It's a modern world with little time to spend reading
long-winded nothingness. Therefore, this post is a test. I shall
entitle it something provocative to see if I can entice you in. If
you've read this far then you'll understand the title is meaningless.
If you've not read this far then you are currently wondering what that
was all about. Or you're back at the airport photo.
Sunday, 2 October 2011
Saturday, 1 October 2011
No matter how hard I try to convince myself that I am a Try it's patently obvious that I am a Don't. Having partially dismantled the basin without flooding the bathroom I was beginning to convince myself that I am definitely a Try and nearly a Do.
Seeing that I needed to remove another part of the basin before accomplishing the high end, professional DIY task of replacing the hot-water-in pipe (forgive me if I am losing you in the technicalities) I quickly identified that the millions of tools I have are not fit for the job. Suddenly I was afraid that I was slipping from my lofty Do/Try perch and set off for Homebase for a tool (Do) or, at worst, some advice (Try).
Cleverly forgetting that it's a Saturday and that means Homebase is staffed by acned teenagers killing time and trying to earn enough to fund their bus-stop-WKD habits, I could see Don't status fast approaching.
Couldn't find a suitable tool. Couldn't find somebody old enough to shave to ask for advice. I Don't.
However, this shouldn't cause a problem. So long as summer 2011 doesn't end before summer 2012 then I have calculated that I will have no need for hot water. Ever again. And with that, I am off to a riverside pub which proves I Do, after all.
Will it prove cathartic or will the repetitive attempts at writing allow me to improve my prose? I was inspired to start the blog by someone who has a very specific reason for writing a blog and therefore does not need to search for a subject each time.
I can't write every blog about writing a blog and searching for a topic so I am going to narrow it down to a field I can concentrate on. Not sure what though. I thought, 'I know, I'll ask people to suggest topics for my blog, that will save me some effort' until it dawned on me that nobody is reading this. Then I thought I'd blog asking for information on how to get people to read this but was quick to realize that that is a chicken and egg situation.
So for now I will leave it here and go off in search of people to read these ramblings. I will report back with my efforts.