Blurg

It's been a week since my last post. I don't know what to write really. I'm feeling a bit blurg. Not ill; just blurg.

Went to the tattooist last Tuesday for my penultimate sitting on my backpiece. Loving how it's looking and can't wait for it to be done. Not cos I'm bored of it, but because I just want it to be complete and awesome. And then I can start thinking of my next pieces. Well, of course I already am thinking of my next pieces, and I have at least three ideas loosely sketched out in my head, maybe four.

Yesterday, the missus and I went for our regular constitutional at Whitstable beach. As ever, it was lovely, and a nice day for it. Rather too nice in fact, since I burned the fuck out of my neck. Then we went to see the movie Mamma Mia! I really don't know what we were thinking. Truly, truly awful. But I knew it would be, despite the rather glowing review it received in Sight & Sound. I almost feel like writing that revered journal of cinema a letter of complaint for misrepresentation.

What else? Meh, nothing really. Still v busy with work, hence my continued absence from both here and from your blogs. Sorry guys. I will get back on track soon, I promise. And I'm not even crossing my fingers.

Oops, it’s Wednesday again already...

So that's a whole week passing by without a whole lot to say. I dunno. Blog lethargy has set in for a whole bunch of people, I guess, including me.

It's not that I've totally done nothing, but it's fair to say I've done nothing much (though we did meet up with some new peeps on the weekend; see here for deets). I didn't even get started on that short video project I mentioned last time. I intend to, though. Maybe today. But first I have to go shopping for a new car. Yeah... bummer.

Yesterday, Red and I looked out the window and saw it was a glorious day, so we decided not to work. That's the raddest thing about working from home. If it's a quiet week and the weather is nice, you can just skip work. We headed out to the seaside -- Broadstairs, to be precise.

We wandered the lovely streets, set foot on the sand briefly, wandered some more, went and ate a pizza at a nice little Italian restaurant, wandered some more, went and had tea and cake at a delightful little café, wandered some more, and then headed back home, stopping off for a sit down on the beach at Whitstable en route.


Once there, we plonked ourselves down, kicked off our shoes, and just sat in a shady spot watching the sea retreating from the shore. Just chillaxing, y'know?

By the time we got back home it was just after 6pm, and we found a card saying that the postman had been unable to deliver a package cos it was too big for our slot. Red said she had an idea that it might be from Captain Karen...

The rest of the early evening passed uneventfully, until the music and singing next door alerted us to a birthday in the house. Fuck. And on it went until after 1am. Tossers.

Anyways... At 8:15 this morning I headed down to the sorting office to collect the parcel, and it was from Karen!

I rushed back home, the missus grabbed the scissors, and we cut our way into our box o' goodies. And what goodies they were! Maple Leaf cream-filled cookies, saskatoon jam (look out breakfast time!), and a book called How to Be a Canadian, which may be pretty timely since we heard Canada is looking for emigrants and we might just look into that...


Thank you, lovely Captain for your lovely gifts. As ever, they are much appreciated and will be put to good use, of that you can be sure!

Well, that's all the news that's fit to print for another day, so catch you on the flipside, guys 'n' gals.

“I love the sound of breaking waves”

Even small waves sound great on pebbly beaches
as they crunch and splash and sizzle.
I'll tell you what doesn't sound nearly as great:
when Gallows sing with Lethal Bizzle.

Not that I have a problem with Gallows;
it's the Bizzle who's troubling for me.
I just don't think that the sounds he makes
are as cool as those of the sea.

Stuff and stuff, like decorating, family visits, seasides, and BMXs

I am the world's worst (or should that be best) person at putting stuff off to another day. Well, maybe not the world's worst (or best), but I'm quite bad. Especially when what I am putting off is decorating. Ever since we had the kitchen done -- back in May -- there have been a few bits of painting that needed to be done; truthfully the whole kitchen could do with a new coat. Additionally, the little lobby area between the kitchen and bathroom has been in need of redecoration for a couple of years. And there are a couple of door frames and the like that need some paint to cover the primer I laid a year ago. And there's the bathroom door, which has also been left primed for about a year...

Well, next weekend my dad is coming to visit. Him and his woman. Him and his woman and her two kids. They're not going to be staying here at the house. We don't really have the room for that many people comfortably; furthermore, we don't like kids. So they will actually be staying in a little B&B cottage about a mile away, if that.

Even so, they will be spending a bit of time with us at the house, no doubt. So, being as my dad is a painter and decorator, I should make a bit of an effort to make the house look like it's been painted and decorated. That's "I" meaning me and the missus. She's the driving force. Otherwise I'd just spend most of the time sat on my arse and then moaning about how the decor never got finished. Funny that.

So, it's been a tiring week, even though we didn't really have any work proper on the go. And we're nearly there. Certainly by the end of this week, we will have done as much as we could realistically have expected to. But this week we have to fit it around work commitments.

Yesterday we went for a a lovely couple or three hours' walk in Whitstable. I can't believe it's still T-shirt weather at the moment. And I think we both got a bit burned. We have taken to carrying leftover bread bits with us to give to the seagulls down there. Yesterday they were catching it in midair as we threw it to them. It was very cool! (Easily amused, yes.)

And then we did our usual routine of sitting by the skate park and watching da kidz doing they thang. There was a guy there that we hadn't seen before. One of the BMXers. And he was doing this crazy somersault shit, doing a 360 turn in the air and landing back on his wheels. In fact, technically, since he takes off while goin vertcally up the ramp, I suppose it's a 270, but that would be splitting hairs, I guess. Then another guy did the same. So there were two of them doing this death-defying shit. The bar has been raised down there.

There was also this cute little girl. Not seen her there before. All sweetness and light. She must have been ten years old. She borrowed one of the older boys' bikes, and after a while his mate said, "Hey, little girl, he wants his bike back." Quick as a flash, she replies: "Tell him to go fuck his mother!" Ah, kids today, huh?

Smells like the beach

I say it a lot recently, but I really don't know where the time goes. I don't have time to blog; I don't have time to work (!); I don't have time to watch movies or write reviews. And I have had very little time to visit all my blogpals, so MASSIVE APOLOGIES to you all, but I'm trying to make good.

Anyway... today I will work. I have a lot to do. The frustrating thing about work is that some clients piss you about. And when you get pissed about and screwed over, it makes you feel like not working on people's jobs, y'know? But I've got to, so I will.

I must say, though, I feel a bit queasy. Last night I had Indian food for the first time since my food-poisoning episode. And we ate it with some Prosecco (Italian sparkling wine; Champagne and Prosecco go great with Indian, in case you don't know). This was also the first alcohol to have passed my lips in more than a week. I feel delicate. Not ill; not relapse stylee. Just "maybe I shouldn't have done it"-ish. But you gotta get back on the horse sometime, right? So I saddled up, baby...!

What a great weekend it was, though, here in the southeast of England. Red said to me on Friday night, "Let's go to Whitstable tomorrow, since it's going to be so lovely." I agreed. We often go to Whitstable on a weekend for a constitutional stroll to get some blood moving through our veins. What she meant -- and what I didn't fully realize until we got there (don't ask why; I'm an idiot. And it led to some degree of upset) -- was to spend the whole day. Like going for a day at the seaside. Despite my being ill prepared, we made the most of a bad lot and enjoyed it while we were there.


Since Sunday was due to be nice, we made a pact to do it again properly the next day. In the United States they have a great term that we don't seem to use here in the UK: "do-over". I'm a big fan of the do-over. Something goes wrong, hell, let's have a do-over, and this time we'll get it right. And get it right we did on Sunday!


We took the parasol from the garden, a couple of bath towels, appropriate head gear (Red's Yankees baseball cap and my trusty tattoo-style bandanna, instead of the shirt I used on Saturday, seen in the pic at top), swimwear, and just enough money to buy lunch, and off we set. We didn't take the camera because we wanted to spend some time in the water. It's a shame in hindsight, because it is nice having photos of when you're being dorks! It was a fun day out.

Whitstable's beach is a pebbly beach, and it is painful as hell walking to and from the sea. It's also amazing how shallow and deep the water gets. During the mid-morning we commented how safe it is for children, since you have to walk for miles in the water to get even your ankles wet; but after lunch it was impossible to touch the seafloor after just a few feet.

I had ice cream! And I wore my black Chuck Taylors in the sea (picture by Red below). I had no other footwear, and the pebbles were slaying me, man. Red says, "You can't not come in just because it's painful. Put your shoes on." She was right. (It's not just that it was painful. I have got the most sensitive soles of feet in Christendom, I swear. My feet cannot be touched. I will accidentally kick you in the face if you touch my feet. Accidentally, mind.)


So, two days on the beach. And I got a little burned, but only really around my feet, so that's okay.

On Friday I guess I must have worked some. I also watched the previous week's episode of The Shield in preparation for that night's. I love The Shield. And I finished reading my book (more on that soon). We also laughed about the dorks we made of ourselves with Eamonn at The Globe. I dunno what else...

Oh yeah, and here are some pics I promised from The Globe.


Desdemona and Othello alive and well and gettin' jiggy with it at the curtain call.


The stage at The Globe.


Eamonn humouring two adoring fans -- i.e., Red and me. (He's much more smiley over here at Red's blog.)


An autographed programme.