Spin Cycle

Every nation seems to be struggling with national debt.  "The rich get richer, the poor get poorer." If I had a penny for every time somebody said that to me over the years, I'd be able to buy a fancy car.  But I don't drive these days.

Advertising works.  And it's everywhere: on the TV, on billboards, on the walls of public lavatories, in the newspapers, in glossy magazines ... it's everywhere.

There's something powerful in adverts that triggers desire.  The ad men are pros.  We buy things as a result and then we leave them to gather dust.  But it's good for the economy ... whatever that really is.  Sometimes, it just seems like a mechanism which transfers money from the masses to a club of elite billionaires.

Governments come and go, as do periods of boom and bust.  The cycle continues.  But eventually, the wheels might wear out.   The tyres will go bald and the wheel bearings will fail.

What happens after that is anybody's guess. 

What a State to Be In

It was like one of those old American movies where somebody got a communication and they had to travel to a house in distant and long forgotten state.

I arrived.  And, just like in the films, there were cobwebs on top of cobwebs and the dust sheets.

But, underneath it all, it was just how it had been the last time I visited.

Things have changed a lot for me, so it was comforting to come here.  Some years ago, I left my dream job in Environmental Services to take a brief secondment and entered the weird world of local taxation.  

The transition became permanent. I wish I could go back.  But I don't remember anything.

It's like the drive partition is full and the stuff I want to download won't fit unless I delete some other stuff.

Everything seems like a struggle.  I start one job, and it creates another.

I thought I had nothing left to say here. And then two things happened: a communication, and a broken peg.

And here I am, in a distant state.

Alien Encounters of the Forgotten Kind

I was late up today.

Usually the increasing hum of early morning traffic wakes me long before the alarm clock.  The sound of car engines and wheels rumbling along the road isn't an unpleasant noise to wake to.  Not once you get used to it anyway.  But even that couldn't do the job this morning.

Strange dreams kept waking me with a start throughout the night.  I dreamt of aliens.  I didn't see the flying saucers that came in my childhood recurring dream.  But I saw aliens.

I don't remember much else about the dreams.  I meant to write a note about them but forgot.

Tonight I am prepared.  Which means I probably won't dream.

But I might wake on time tomorrow.

Fish Guts

Go into any real ale pub and you will see a man (or woman) holding their drink up to the light and gazing through the glass, through the beer.

A clear beer is the sign of a good beer (with the exception of wheat beer).

But I wonder how many drinkers realise that that clarity comes from ... fish guts.

Of course, you will never be told "oh, we use fish guts to clear the beer."

No, they will tell you they use Isinglass.  That's the fancy word for fish guts.

Life Cycles (continued)

A year to the day since I last posted and nothing has changed for me, well maybe my underwear has ... a couple of times, at least.

This is largely my own doing as I am the King of Procrastinators, lover of beer and middle-aged couch potato.

Aside from taking waste out to the bin, I haven't left the house since last Friday.

When not sleeping, I've either been watching stuff I've recorded over the last few months or I've been eating.

And yet I still can't relax.

The mobile phone is the biggest curse of all.  It constantly vibrates as another comment about the weather or some lame joke comes through.

Is this a mid-life crisis?

Life Cycles

I feel dead inside.

But I know I'll be born again.

Like a flowering plant that has died off for winter.

Cycles

Once again, it's a long weekend.  Easter, some folk call it.

I'm sat at home, drinking scotch, and wondering how much longer the cycle will continue for me ... for any of us ...

Mulling Things Over

So, here I am again, making that rare appearance on this weblog.

As each day passes I'm more aware that my short time on this world is nearing the end.  And I've been spending too much of that precious time absorbing negative energy.

For me, Blogger was a starting point in social media.  Fascinating people around the world published about their hobbies, interests, and lives, lives which were so different to mine.

With other social media so freely accessible these days, flippant remarks have polluted the Internet.  I tried to recall how much negative energy I experienced on Blogger, and I don't recall much.

I like positive people and am attracted to them.  The amount of negativity I'm experiencing on other sites is mentally draining.  This isn't negativity directed at me, just at the world in general.

I've become a part of that, not through design; it just happened.

It's time for me to step back and re-evaluate things.

The Long and Short.

As we approach the shortest day of the year in this hemisphere I can't help but feel that that day seems like the longest.

Here in the of North of England, we're presently enjoying a whopping eight hours of daylight a day, although it should be referred to as daygloom.

You see, it's never really that light during this time of year, except on the rare days when the sky decides to take its clothes off and show us some bare blue.

No, it's mostly threatening darkness in the eight hours we're supposed to have light.  

And that's why these short days seem so  long.  That darkness is telling us we should be in bed.  We just weren't designed to live our lives by clocks and shift patterns.

But if I feel like this now, how do the dwellers of the Arctic Circle feel? 

A Break in The Rain

The inclement weather (it's pissing it down as my dad always says) has driven me to reading ... and writing (typing, if you want to get all pedantic on me).

I'm sat in a caravan in Wales; halfway between Cricceith and Pwllheli, surrounded by stunning scenery.  I got here on Monday and, with the exception of this morning, the weather has been good.

But, as I was saying ... typing ... I've been reading, Doctor Sleep to be precise, Stephen King's latest book.  King was the first adult author I ever read.  He seems on good form in this latest story.

Taking a break from reading, I remembered that I used to enjoy writing as much as I enjoy reading.  And then I remembered this blogger page, something I haven't updated in three years.

So, here I am.  Writing.  Rambling.  I remember my English Lit teacher calling it  "stream of conscience" or something.

The last few years I've kidded myself that I don't have the time to read or write as much as I like, if at all.  I suppose it would be more accurate to say I've been lying to myself.

So, here I am.  Contemplating.  Considering a promise.  Not to you, but to myself.  I'm going to start writing more.  Whether anybody reads it or not, doesn't matter to me.

It's kind of like ... therapy.

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...