Ye Olde Trip to a Pub Built in 1189

Post 37th Birthday Party Party (and that's not an accidental repetition)

Worse for Wear

Which looks oldest:  the cave wall or me?

Looking around an ancient pub, which is largely built in a cave, I thought about how much longer it would stand there and how much time I have left.

Recently, I started noticing things I didn't want to notice when I looked in the mirror.  My skin has the texture orange peel, my eyes are all puffy and sunken, and I have this generally bloated appearance.

Having gone on a strict diet, exercising more, and quitting drinking (apart from on my birthday weekend) I don't appear to be looking any better.

And that's when it hits home - that's when you think your best years have gone.

But, after a period of reflection, you realise that looks aren't the most important thing in life.  The most important thing is what we know and how we apply that knowledge and that we continue to learn and apply and that we pass on our knowledge.

And while passing on knowledge is easy enough, getting those we pass it on to apply it successfully is another matter.

Hope is all we have.

Link:
http://www.triptojerusalem.com/

According to some, the oldest pub in England.

Going to Seed

Since there is no more Mrs Dan, I've found myself with far too much time than's good for me.

No longer restricted to where and when I can or can't go, at 36 years young, I'm a free man again.  Almost.

I guess I'm not really the type for settling down, similar to Dean Moriarty from Jack Kerouac's On The Road.  Only I haven't scattered my seed all over the place as he did.  But that's another matter.

No.  The only shackles that hold me down now, are those of work and commuting.  And I only wear those for eleven hours a day.

Trouble is, my belly is liking freedom too.  Perhaps I could go to the gym.

But then, that would be like more shackles.

Mindset

The way I feel about a lot of things changes constantly.

And, not that I believe in astrology, I guess that makes me a classic Libran.

But frustration is borne out of indecisiveness. Not necessarily for me, but certainly for those around me.

I can't even decide whether I want to finish writing this or not. And if I do finish it, it doesn't matter to me if nobody ever reads it.

That's one thing I do know.

I can't say I've never done anything purely for popularity because I was a teenager once.

But nowadays I don't care for the popularity contest.

And that's about the only thing I won't change my mind about.

Everything is difficult...

...until it becomes easy.

For years I struggled to tie my shoelaces.

Nowadays, fashion dictates it isn't even necessary. All that effort for nothing.

Goodbye Gordon

Right, let me tell you how it is.

So, Gordon Brown got caught out this week. Although this was mainly, because he's such a fucking dipshit, he couldn't even remember he was wired to national television when he got in his car and started calling the woman he'd just spoken to a bigot.

He was probably the only person shocked by all of this. And he regrets the incident. Well, not taking his microphone off is what I mean he regrets.

No, I wasn't shocked at all. I've long believed that the overwhelming majority of polititians are motivated by selfishness, greed and power. Little old ladies going to buy a loaf of bread don't mean a fucking thing to them. The average prole is just there to be stepped on. Sure, talk to them nicely when you want their vote, them step right on them.

They're all the same.

In the word's of Montgomery Brewster, "Vote for None of the Above."

Fucking Bastard Twatting...

VOLCANIC BASTARD ASH!

A State of Health

We may not have the best healthcare system in the world here in the UK, but we do have one that doesn't discriminate between rich and poor...unless you choose to go private and get treated quicker by the same doctors and nurses as NHS patients.

So, is socialised healthcare a good thing?

It certainly works in Cuba.

It kind of works in the UK, once you can actually get your GP to refer you to hospital.

Last week I attended an emergency appointment at hospital, made by my GP - or his receptionist - which I had only six weeks to wait for. I was given a list of hospitals to choose from - as I am entitled - and chose the only one that was on the list.


Thankfully, the gastroscopy revealed nothing sinister inside my oesophagus, stomach and duodenum. But they took biopsies none the less. Just to make sure.

The consultant asked me my symptoms, which I've had for around a year, and was astounded that I'd only just made it to hospital after all that time.

Unfortunately, it would seem I had been sent for the wrong kind of test given my symptoms.

So, now the consultant is to write to my GP, suggesting I get some bloodwork done to see if I have gallstones. This will take around two weeks.

And in the event that the blood tests point to gallstones, I will only have to wait between four to six weeks before getting an ultra-sound, and then a further two to three weeks for surgery.

Those times might seem like a long time to some readers but my symptoms would not seem to be life threatening - at this stage - and given that the treatment is free - well, if you exclude income tax and statutory National Insurance payments - I'm quite happy to wait and keep what little money I have in my pocket.

I'll probably need it for prescriptions.

Rip Torn

What a legend.

And more on the way...