Profiteroles and stuff...

Not to be confused with Proles, which are something else entirely...

Okay, first, I'm going to apologise for the poor, almost quasirandom structuring of this post. I've got a lot to get down and I'm trying to concentrate on several things at once, not the least of which is trying to win christmas presents on ebay...

so let's start with the weekend and kinda dive forwards and backwards around there.

Having had something of a bad weekend, coming back home to a prolonged and severe family argument, and then spending the rest of the weekend getting on with christmassy stuff, putting decorations up etc, I went back to work today in an absolutely foul mood.
Not foul as in "I don't want to be at work", foul as in "the first person that phones up to do anything other than ask for advice or help, is going to get a piece of my mind".
No sooner had I got into work than I was dragged into a bloody training course - if I dare dignify it with the term. Sitting around a table while the trainer, god help him, stuck on some cartoon music (presumably intended to give the occasion a whimsical, fun air), which served to patronise and piss everybody off, especially me.

Now let me introduce you to a pet project of one of our senior managers.
In the old days, when callers used to phone us up to complain about breaches, real or perceived, to animal welfare, we used to take as much information as possible, in order to allow our field staff to go and investigate the situation, fully armed with all the knowledge they needed. This was generally accepted as being the best way to do the job.
But instead, one of our client's senior managers decided to arbitrarily change everything. Yep. Gone was the exhaustive and in depth information. Gone were the detailed background notes. Gone in fact, was most of the content of the reports that we used to submit.
This manager's idea is that instead of detailing what was wrong with the situation/animal, we'd simply assign a code to the incident, eg, code 1 for no water, code 2 for no food etc etc.

However, we were also told to keep the reports compact. In fact, we were told to decide for ourselves what the most serious concern was (for example, a "code 1" complaint where an animal has no drinking water, is more serious than say, a "code 6" complaint, where an animal doesn't have adequate shelter.), and highlight that concern only to the field staff, on the basis that the staff themselves would have to find out the rest for themselves, as that was what they were being paid for.

As an extension of this, we're now not only being assessed on how quickly we can get the callers off the line, but also assessed on every other criteria related to this new pet project, including the order in which we place information, our ability to selectively omit information, and the brevity of our incident reports! Anyway. Returning to today...

Instead of the trainer saying a single word, we were subjected to various recordings of the training officers, speeded up so as to sound like bloody hamsters, guiding us through the process, while dropping in twenty or thirty absolutely crap jokes. And then we had to do an exercise. What was the exercise? That's right, we had to design a poster to advertise the course to the rest of the office! It was like bloody primary school, and I cannot believe that any employer who takes its employees seriously, allows this sort of patronising childishness to go on! Fine, everyone likes a fun workplace, but sitting in a cold meeting room with a tube of pvc glue, a glitter shaker, some pipe cleaners, some coloured paper and five clueless colleagues, while some [idiot] plays "whistle while you work" on the CD player, is NOT my fecking idea of fun! Let the bloody training officers do all the sticky poster manufacturing, that's part of their job, that's why they get paid more than me - yes, they get paid substantially more than me to stick bits of brightly coloured paper together, and design pretty pictures to put on the wall boards, to draw our attention to various workplace incentives, operational requirements etc, it's absolutely fecking ridiculous!

I wouldn't mind, but we were then dragged to some of the management computers to do another exercise involving one of the networked systems - this would have been all well and good, as this was the real meat and potatoes of the job. But did it go according to plan? Ha. Something went wrong and I wasn't able to access the exercise on the network - in true me fashion, I was stuck twiddling my thumbs until everyone else finished, and then we got dragged to another game. A horrific bodged version of countdown, we had to make the longest animal name out of the letters we had available.
Someone tell me what the educational value of this was, I mean please god, there had to be some reason a quarter of my shift was wasted, fecking about, "training" to achieve a standard required to successfully participate in some philandering senior manager's universally hated pet project, screwing about to meet artificially emphasised administrative tasks, concentrating entirely, not on animal welfare, which is not what we're there for, but on the little details, the pointless minutae, spelling (that's a lost cause in our office, I saw a report the other day that included the line (and I quote word for word, spellings and all) "has been told this by a neibs". I can only assume that my colleague intended to put "neighbour" and wasn't looking at his/her keyboard...) and the actual phrasing of the questions, word for word, that we ask the callers.

Anyway, I had a word with one of the managers and politely explained (not my exact words) that if I did not get out of the office soon, blood would be spilled. They got together and decided to give me half a day off.
So after time in the gym, I came home, and chilled out.

I managed to get out with the family, complete with my nephew and sister, and went for a proper pub meal, which was nice. I'm not going to go into all the details, but it was nice to have a proper sit-down meal with the family, and actually spend time together. It was here that I had the aforementioned profiteroles - absolutely fantastically good - little (well, large - about 2/3 the size of a tennis ball!) balls of choiux pastry, filled with cold chocolate mousse, and covered with frothy vanilla flavoured cream and chocolate shavings! Absolutely delicious!

So what else have I been doing? I have been mostly losing my garnet from my gem collection, yes it went down the back of the recliner, and an hour with a torch didn't help me find it again. Shame, but not the end of the world, it was only a garnet and I didn't even particularly like the colour... I've ordered a couple of other garnets that are a deeper red colour though, and they should arrive soon I hope!

I also wrote my christmas list. Yes I know, I'm a little old, but let me explain.
A couple of years ago, I got a calligraphy set for christmas. The following christmas, I got another, complete with real "dip pens". I took the opportunity to practise my calligraphy by writing a very nice artistic christmas list one year, and it gained quite a lot of approval - as a result I repeated it next year, and the tradition stuck :).

So I'm going to leave you now, on a good note, I'm going to drink my bottle of lucozade, carry on chatting on msn, and hopefully, have an early night!

But here are some christmas pics for you - Again, this has no particular structure, but this is more down to Blogger's horrific picture formatting...
Anyway, we'll start with the items I put on my christmas list :).




















Need for Speed Prostreet, is the latest and greatest car racing game out there - It looks fantastic!
Unreal Tournament 3, is another fantastic game, one that will no doubt test the limits of my computer's power!

Then you have the third item, a 1/35 scale model of a Challenger 2 tank! Looks great!

I wasn't able to find a picture of the fourth item, the Signet ring.
the ring I mentioned is a very nice hematite and gold round signet ring. Hopefully with some luck, I'll be able to show you a picture of it if I get it for christmas :).

Now I have a picture of my actual christmas list, to show you the work I put into it. It actually took about five attempts and a couple of hours to get the christmas list looking just right (with it being written by hand) and even then there were a few mistakes (the last line of text being off center, for one). But I'm pleased enough with it to have submitted it as my final Christmas list :).














And finally, I took a pretty picture of my gem collection, such as it is.
The large red one is the garnet that is now missing in a recliner chair downstairs.










And finally, let me now leave you with the breaking news that I have randomly got a blocked nose from somewhere, and it has come on in the last couple of hours.
Bizarre.

Ciao, will be back on here soon!

Debit Card Fraud and Cold Showers...

Okay, so that was embarrasing.

As they do every thursday, my parents have taken themselves off to the pub to have a nice sitdown lunch with my grandad. They get the meal and he gets some company, which suits everyone. Apart from me. As I'm left at home - admittedly by choice, I don't play any part in their festivities, which is fair enough. Unfortunatley, they very rarely ever stop by the food shops on the way home, so "I come bearing gifts" is not a phrase you could ever really associate with either of my parents.

Now I don't know if you've seen our cupboards...

...actually that's a load of garbage.

You haven't seen our cupboards. But let me tell you, they are devoid of any food that either is not spoken for already ("That's my pork pie, leave it alone etc etc etc") or contain food that is only useful when combined with other foods (Green beans? Tinned tomatoes???). Despite my parents assertions, constant assertions that the cupboards are "full of food", I think they fail to realise, that food and foodstuffs are not really the same thing. I'm not eating a tin of black bean sauce for my tea.

Which leads me to my current - well, almost current - predicament.
I have got so damned sick and tired of going hungry each thursday, that I am now spending anything up to £15 EACH THURSDAY to keep myself fed. Admittedly, I'm partly to blame, because there are a lot cheaper meals available than a 15 quid pizza. Unfortunatley, they all involve going to the shops, and "going to the shops" is local slang for "running the blockade of jeering pisstaking tanked-up firework throwing idiots that sit about outside the shop because they have nothing better to do".
I refuse to use the four letter C (no not that one!) word that many of you would instantly credit me with using when I describe these young muppets, for a variety of reasons; not do I find the use of the word extremely offensive, because it's a simple throwaway word that just casually writes off and years of the subjects achievements and successes etc, not only is it a verbal spit on the character of anyone that it's applied to, but it is also used far too often, to write off entire sections of society, in effect tarring everyone with the same brush, on the basis of temporary, percieved or otherwise inaccurate anecdotal evidence.

Anyway, I know many of you will be confused with me now, which is good, because now we're back on a level playing field.
But anyway, the point is I don't like having fireworks thrown at me, so I ordered a pizza again.

Got my email confirmation, and later (finally, in fact!) the pizza turned up. The guy asked me for cash at the door, but I told him I paid on my card (I did, I sent all the details and everything).
Anyway, I'm at home tucking into my fantastic medium italian margherita with ham, pork and cajun chicken pizza, with bbq, sour cream and sweet chilli dips, thoroughly enjoying my fantastically tasty and yummy (if very expensive and rather unhealthy) lunch, when I get a call.

It's pizza hut. The lad there was hesitating go get the words out, but eventually he [took what sounded like the great leap of courage required to just come out and say it to one of your customers], told me that "You haven't paid for the pizza mate, you haven't paid by card". While feeling rather annoyed that I'd had my meal disturbed to be told that something (probably me) screwed up and my payment didn't go through, I did allow myself a small grin as he avoided directly accusing me of lying/being mistaken, by saying "the guy at the door said he'd paid by card". Good on him, the poor lad. Even on the other end of the phone, it's no fun having to say things that are the verbal equivalent of painting a target on your face.

Anyway, "AHA" I thought, "I have the email receipt", so the guy stayed on the cordless phone while I (we?) went upstairs (*shudder*) and looked through my email receipt.
"You will need £15.04 ready at the door".
Bugger, balls and bollocks. And other bad words of that nature.
So I realised that I had in fact been eating a pizza that I hadn't paid for. I managed to pay over the phone without sounding A. Embarrased that I'd messed up or B. fearful that they might think I was trying to get a free pizza, and that was that.
Anyway the pizza was good.

Crying out loud, it's taken me longer to come out with all this rubbish than it took me to eat the damn thing.
So how am I on other fronts? I don't know, I've only got one front and it's busy working in conjunction with my back, to hold my sides together. Not.

Anyway, despite my cheese pizza munching unhealthy eating bad habits, my fitness is actually coming on quite well. I discovered that the reason my 1.06 mile run was such a shockingly slow (12 minute) run, was because I had in fact ran UP all the hills. In a brilliant flash of genius, I ran the track the other way round, and went down from 12 and a half minutes, to 10:24. I'm now doing pyramids at work (sounds exciting doesn't it - I assure you it's not), so instead of doing say, 5 sets of 20 situps, I'll do 1 set of 15, 1 set of 14, 1 set of 13 and so on, so that as I get more tired, I have less work to do, but still wind up doing 125 (i think) situps a day. They're paying dividends as well. You wouldn't know I was a serial pizza muncher to look at me.

I've finally made my choice about what I want to do in the Army, which is good.
I've decided to be a tankie (tank crew), which is fine.

Yes, I decided I didn't want to spend an entire carreer in a workshop, fixing things that other people broke. I didn't want to be miles behind the lines in an AS90 sending shells to some target several miles away. I don't really want to work on an armoured recovery vehicle, as you're basically a glorified roadside assistance service, and I don't want to become an infantry soldier because I don't enjoy marching miles and miles carrying big sodoff bergans, while getting wet, cold and pissed off*. Sure there are downsides to being a tankie as well, for example, running the risk of getting blown up, although you are surrounded by inches thick armour plating that has yet to be penetrated by any enemy weapon (explosives not included since you don't shoot bombs at people).

Spurred on by my new sense of direction, I am working my way towards leaving the quality-obsessed cesspit of a job I have at the minute, and finally, yes, finally getting myself into the army and away from the facts-and-figures, reports, meetings, quality academy, percentages, statistics and satisfaction obsessed environment that has blighted my working life since I started work there two years ago.

And finally, to christmas. Yes, I've bought just about all the christmas presents I need to buy, and in a fit of consumerism and material-wealth grabbing, I've also randomly bought a load of peridot, citrine, topaz and other loose gemstones, for no purpose other than to... Well, I don't know what do you do with a load of loose gemstones? Poke them with a pencil and go "ooh aren't they pretty". I don't know, I wanted them at the time.

Anyway. Having just been interrupted by my second phone call from somebody I don't know, for somebody that is not here, I'm off to put the remainder of my pizza in the fridge, and then to play X plane for a bit.

But before I do that, I'm off for a shave. I look like bloody Cary Elwes.

Have fun.

(*please excuse the glib remarks concerning the professions of other parts of the army. The fact is, all jobs in the army have the potential to be extremely dangerous, and there are a lot of people in the middle east right now, doing the jobs that I've discounted as being ideal for me, working extremely hard in very poor conditions at considerable risk to themselves. I have nothing but a great amount of respect for our soldiers, and I don't want anyone to go away from reading this blog entry today, thinking otherwise)

The Weather's Turning...

I had a few problems connecting to the internet.
After coming home from a long long day at work, and a fitness assessment in the gym, I wanted nothing more than to sit, chill out, and browse the web. No such luck, as the first popup message I get on logging in, is that the wireless network can't be detected.
Now let me explain the dread I felt.

I spend, maybe seven or eight hours a day on the internet. While my body sits motionless on my bed, my mind is soaring all over the world, absorbing information from a thousand sources, reading about events in places I've never been, learning about things that I'd never even heard of. Hundreds of millions of tunes, videos, stories, pictures, articles, all completely accessible for me to look at at my leisure. The Internet in short, makes me so much bigger than myself.

Being without the internet, when you're used to having it, is intolerable. You feel like you are trapped inside your own world. The internet allows all of us to communicate across the world, like some vast digital whalesong, it's an awesome and beautiful thing to behold.
When you're cut off from it, you're trapped in your own part of the world. Unable to express yourself, unable to explore, play or learn. While there is a whole world outside your front door, you become confined to only what you can see with your own eyes, to what you can sense with your own senses. While the world outside your window is the same world that everyone else lives in, their parts of the world are hundreds and thousands of miles away from you, and all you have to experience is the outside existance you've always known. It's like losing the sixth sense that the internet gives us...

That is the panic I feel when I see that the internet is not accessible.
Fortunatley, for me, this didn't last long, as you can see, and I managed to get the damn computer working. So here I am...

Yes, as the title says, the weather is indeed turning, and it is bitterly cold outside. By UK standards anyway. Outside thermometers put the temperature at 2.5C (36.5F), and with no clouds in the sky, and it only being 18:23, I suspect colder weather is to come.

I undertook a mock fitness assessment at work to see how I am doing with my goals. I have to admit, I got mixed results. So mixed that I honestly can't decide whether to be excited, or disappointed.
I had been optimistically aiming for a 1.5 mile time of 11:30. A time which may still be achievable, but only through considerable effort. I calculated the speed I need to run at to achieve 1.5 miles in 11:30 - some 12.6kph, and after half of the 11:30, decided that I am, at the minute, not fit enough to run the entire course at that speed.
Fair enough. On further research, One of the regiments that I had wanted to join, has a required 1.5 mile time of a more realistic 13:15. Easier to attain.
Out of a requirement of (approx) 45 pressups in two minutes, I managed to do 42.
Out of a requirement of around 50 situps in two minutes, I managed to do a pitiful 31.

Unfortunatley, that wasn't the worst of it.
I decided that the best way to run at a constant speed, was to use the treadmill, and set it to a certain speed. In retrospect, this was a very bad idea, as treadmills are extremely unforgiving on your shins. Indeed, after only 6ish minutes running, I stopped with substantial pain in my right, and moderate pain in my left shins. Seems to be a combination of having not stretched enough (5 minutes, as opposed to 30 reps), and running on too hard a surface.

Still, I'm optimistic - I hope - that given time, I will be able to make the grade. I'm going to let my legs recover for a day or two, and then I'm going to go running in the park again. As for situps and pressups - I'll be doing several sets daily. I am determined to get my arse out of my dead end job, and into a new carreer.

Right now though, it's 18:50, and I am going to have a couple of hours sleep. Just you try and stop me.

Later!

Is it beginning to work?

I don't want to get my hopes up. So I'm going to try to avoid sounding optimistic or excited.

After months of believing that I was practically crippled with shin splints, after suffering from a mild stinging in the lower legs, I eventually got so frustrated that I decided to grab the bull by the horns, and actually go running, to see just how badly said condition affected me.

In retrospect I suppose it might have been a bit daft, but out of sheer desperation I decided to go for a run anyway, to see if I would run the mile, or be reduced to hobbling my way home.

I ran the mile.
I settled into a steady pace, running through what had turned into a rainstorm, at 00:30 in the morning through an unlit park, feeling like I was the only person in the world. Just me and the track - as corny or as cliched as it sounds, that's what I had to work with.

The run got harder very quickly, much earlier than I had expected it to, but I carried on through it. Even when, after running up the biggest/steepest hill on the circuit, when my legs were burning, my lower back was screaming for attention and my lungs felt like they were on fire, I carried on. I had to know, could I make the distance?

I ran over a mile - 1.09 miles to be exact, in 12 minutes. Over hilly terrain.
That's not bad, considering I haven't been running for a while.

But what about my shinsplints?
What about them?

I didn't feel any pain then, and I don't feel any more than the (very) slight background stinging that I felt before.
I won't articulate what this could mean in words, because I'm wary of bringing the entire thing crashing down around me.

Time to press on. I've got my ADSC to pass...

The weather turns...

Hello again folks.

As you're no doubt aware, Christmas hysteria is well and truly upon us, and I have to admit, it's nice to have a bit of it about. Everyone seems more relaxed at Christmas, more friendly, open and helpful. Which is odd, because when you think about it, behind the warm cozy scene, Christmas is probably one of the most stressful times of the year. Running around getting presents wrapped up, figuring out what it is people want, working overtime for the cash to pay for the presents, buying the food, cooking the food, etc, there's a lot of work behind the scenes...

But we wouldn't do it if it wasn't worth it, would we? I have to admit, I look forward to every christmas with plenty of anticipation and excitement. Not because (as was the case when I was younger) I had a shedload of new presents, but because for a week or so of the year, a kind of strange peace descends upon the country, and you do notice the change in peoples' behavior. It's nice, for me, to be able to see everyone having a good time, getting the presents they wanted, spending time with their family, it's all very nice.

With that in mind, I've started my christmas spending. Yes, in this capitalist technocracy of ours, round november december time, the financial transactions start coming thick and fast, as your bank balance deflates faster than a balloon that a hedgehog is trying to carry home on its back.*

So far, as is the norm for me, I'm well on my way to buying all the presents that I want to buy for my nephew, who I've always favoured (if I'm honest), and have actually bought a couple of presents for other people already as well. Now I've got to wrap them up, which is sort of pleasantly distracting and incredibly tedious at the same time.

Even the weather's turning, with snow reported over most of northern/central England, particularly around Birmingham and Solihull, but also Nottingham and even some on the other side of the city. Outside our house, it's just drizzling slightly, but apparently other parts of the town have been getting anything up to an inch or so, with Birmingham getting several inches of snow - this bodes well for a white christmas, and would be very fitting, and very nice, for what will possibly be my last christmas living in this house, for some years.

Yes, folks, this brings me neatly round to the Army again. Despite the shameless neglect and diabolical treatment of the armed forces at the hands of the Government and Ministry of Defence, despite several very high ranking officers complaining publicly** about the conditions that soldiers are fighting under, living in and generally subjected to, my enthusiasm for getting myself back into the green machine has increased substantially, as has my fitness. With that in mind, the part of my mind that is testosterone fuelled young man with a taste for adventure and glory is whispering "Why not join a teeth arm (teeth arm = combat regiment) instead of a support arm". To be honest, it appeals a lot more than the thought of getting stuck in a workshop for my entire carreer, though I have been given assurances that even if I did go for REME vehicle mechanic, that would probably not happen. If I did go for Vehicle Mechanic, with some luck, I'd be posted to all sorts of different units and get to ahem, "join in" for want of a better word, with whatever they're doing".

So what other carreers appeal to me?

I could join the Royal Armoured Corps as a tank crewman - Challenger 2's are supposed to be bloody good fun to work in, and there's a hell of a camaraderie when you're part of a four man crew that work, fight, sleep and chill out together.

On the other hand, I could go for the local regiment, and get myself into the Infantry. My TA unit when I was a kid was infantry and I have to admit I loved it. Never been shot at during training through, so I'm in no position to claim to "know the job".

I have also expressed an interest in joining the Royal Artilliery, as an AS90 Gunner.
Like a tank, but bigger, with a bigger gun, and a larger crew, AS90's are used for long range fire support. Supposed to be pretty cool.

Like I say, my fitness is coming on in leaps and bounds, I'm about to start running again, and my weight training is progressing at a decent pace too. I can feel and see myself getting stronger and fitter, so before long hopefully, I will finally, at long last, be ready for ADSC.

But, let's have christmas first, eh? work is continuing okay I suppose, though it is getting incredibly tedious and boring, and to be honest, the sooner I'm out of there, and training to serve, the better. Until then I'm gonna carry on here, keeping you updated and generally bimbling through life, while training hard and getting ready for my new life, at the same time.

Here's some pictures for you.
From left to right

TOP ROW
1. REME Vehicle Mechanic working on what looks like an 8 tonne wagon
2. Challenger Armoured Recovery Vehicle - a cross between a tank, a dozer, and a towtruck!
3. A Challenger 2 Tank - the British Army's main battle tank - an absolute beast!

BOTTOM ROW
1. Part of an infantry section (a bunch of infantry soldiers) doing whatever it is they're doing.
2. An AS90 Self Propelled Gun. It's a big bugger, isn't it!





























*At last, a metaphor that isn't "pointless".

** I hesitate to quote The Sun as a reference, since generally it is little better than a comic with news in, but it's the only news site that actually still has the story on from what I can see.

Aching muscles and iPod innards...

So, what have I been doing the past few days...

Well, I've been spending a lot of time in the gym - 90 minutes per day to be exact, and I've been making sure that I get a good workout because I need to be at the top of my game when time comes to go to the recruit selection center. I come home exhausted every evening, and wake up feeling battered and achy, but it's worth it.

In other news, my iPod video screen shield (the plastic cover, not the screen itself) cracked for some reason unknown to me. So I decided to order a replacement plastic cover, and fit it myself rather than asking Apple to do it for me, for many £££.

The front cover arrived today, so as soon as I got home from the gym, I got on with fitting it. The process involved stripping the ipod almost the way down to each individual component, to get the front cover off which oddly enough, is actually held on by everything else attached to it. I'm not going to go into loads of detail, but the long and short of it is that it's the most difficult part to get off, despite actually being on the front.

Anyway, never having done anything like this before, with only a brief instruction video that I found on youtube, as well as the green plastic case opening tool which was thoughtfully provided by the seller of the front cover, I set about disassembling the iPod.
Or rather, I set about trying.

What it doesn't show you on the video, is the fact that not only is the front actually incredibly difficult to get off, but also the fact that the apparently super sharp green plastic iPod opener thingies are cunningly fashioned from some type of cheese, and are therefore completely useless when it comes to anything other than snapping, rounding their ends off, or bending beyond being useful. Perhaps I was doing something wrong...

Anyway, I got the ipod in bits on my desk, at which point my sense of purpose abandoned me, and as if waking from a dream, I found myself sat in front of my dismembered gadget, with the murder weapon in my hand. Reflecting for a minute or so on the horror of what I'd done, I swore to turn my butcher's hands into those of a surgeon. ]

I followed the procedure which was pretty uneventful. At least it was until I not only accidentally removed the cable retaining clip from the hard disk, but bent one of the connecting pins on the hard disk in my efforts to get it back on.
It went back on.
So with trepidation, I finally reassembled my iPod with its new cover, and pressed Menu.

Nothing.
At all.
Then the screen went black.
Then a white apple appeared on the screen.
Which turned silver as the screen lit up.

And then the system menu came up, complete with all my songs and videos. The transplant was a success, and my iPod was ALIVE!

So I'm bloody glad I've got that sorted, I can tell you :).

Here's a few pics anyway :), take care :).

More dental torture...

PROLOGUE:

I've spent most of the day in bed, having gone to bet at a fairly late 6am. And yes.
I've got another dental appointment today :(.

So shortly, I've got to go to the dentists to be subjected to more inhumane and punishing dental procedures.

Oh well. I'll come back to let you know how it went - no doubt in 90 minutes time i'll be happier than I am now. I hope!

UPDATE - 16:56

90 minutes?
Well, not exactly.

I got there in good time, conveniently forgetting to sign myself in, so no one actually knew I was "there" even though I was sat in the waiting room.

I got there at 15:20, as I was instructed, but they were evidently busy because I wasn't seen until 15:55. I suppose that was the worst bit. I'm sat there in the waiting room, a glazed look on my eyes, staring into space, terrifying myself over what I was getting myself into (I didn't and still don't like going to the dentists).

From outside, came the sound of work that was being carried out on the building. The sound of grinding drills drilling holes in the masonry, and the sound of angle grinders cutting up the concrete slabs outside. Despite my mood, I managed to pipe up "I bloody hope that's coming from outside, not inside".
It got a better reaction than I expected. Still, I spose you had to be there.

Eventually I got called in, settled in very quickly, and laid down on the chair.
Admittedly, it was probably the fastest in-out dentistry i've had. It felt like about 10 minutes, drill drill drill, quick three holes, filled them up quick, not a problem and absolutely nothing to worry about.

So i've been booked in in two weeks time to have my teeth polished. Something which now, having read about it, I'm not 100% looking forward to.
Still, at least no more holes in my mouth anymore :).

On a different note, after watching my weight go up and up, with great alarm (12 stone 7 pounds (79.3Kg) at its highest), I've gone on a diet, and combined that with the increasing amount of physical work that I'm doing to get fit for the army.
Oh yes. The army.

That's now all back on track, they sent me a letter asking me to get in touch so I dropped into the recruiting center, where the sergeant who's been dealing with me tells me he's actually been trying to contact me. I explain the situation, that I need to see a physio to get my leg sorted, and that I'm still eager, excited, and looking forward to starting my phase one.

Speaking of phase one, I found a video by a lad that went and did the first five weeks of his phase one before leaving. Admittedly he missed out most of his training, but the bit that he did do and the general atmosphere is described pretty well, so if you want to know what it's likely to be like for me, here's the link.
Of course, I'm going to be less homesick because I'm older, and I've already spent time living away from home :).

So yeah. Good day all in all I spose. half of my mouth is still numb which is driving me nuts, but hey, It'll wear off.

UNDER CONSTRUCTION

Just to let those of you with RSS feeds know - the post below, "holidays" is going to be edited over the next week as a single post - I want that one single post to detail my entire holiday.

As a result, your RSS feeds may not show that my blog has been updated, when in fact it has. I would ask you to check back regularly, to read the "holidays" post - it should be updated by me every day, or every other day, until next friday when I go back to work.

Thanks!

Holidays!

Okay, so I've now got some, some might say, well deserved time off work. So...

What am I going to do with my time off - some 13 days?

Well, I have no plans at the minute, so I'll just fill you in on what's been happening.

Saturday: So hometime rolled around at 15:30 and I got all my stuff packed up ready for the trip from work to home, and I've got to admit, I felt a certain melancholy set in roundabout then - far from being eager to get away, I'm kinda gonna miss my work colleagues - at least some of them - as I've got quite a lot of friends there. I got home, had a little nap, woke up, didn't have anything to drink (no money!) and went back to bed. Special offer on this one ladies and gentlemen, it's going cheap, anyone wanna bid on saturday?

Sunday: I woke up reasonably early, when my nephew (who lives in a different house so I was kinda surprised to see him there) wandered into my room and told me that dinner - a full family thing - everyone except my brother and his other half anyway - would be ready in 15 minutes - not bad for a 3 year old. Of course, in my family, "dinner will be ready in 15 minutes" translates loosely into "dinner will be ready in about 25 minutes, can you please come down and set the table". A point I mentioned on my way to the dining room.
Anyway, it was a nice meal, my mum's good sunday dinner, lots of everything, potatoes, yorkshire puddings, slices of cheese sauce (my mum traditionally makes the cheese sauce so thick, that you have to scoop it out with a spoon), and lots of gravy etc - lovely. Joining us (my parents and I) were my grandad, my sister and my nephew - so it was a full table.
After the meal, my nephew demanded I set his brio train up, so after about 30 minutes of debating with him where all the track needed to be set, I ended up with a 4x3M track, which I was pretty pleased with - at this point, his mum came along and told him that it was time to go - ALWAYS as I'm just finishing setting the track up. Okay, so he wasn't too happy but I've consoled him with the fact that I'll be getting my R/C helicopter back in the air ASAP so he can watch it fly about next time he comes. This, along with a couple of jelly babies seemed to placate him, and off he and his mum went. I had a fairly sedentary night, watched TNG and voyager most of the night and chilled out with a fistful of beer (4 cans in their plastic can holder).

Monday: I eventually got bored and went to sleep at 6am.
At 7am my mum came in - family emergency - my nephew was ill (don't worry he's fine!) and as such my sister's babysitter wouldn't have him near the rest of the kids - fair enough. Unfortunatley, my sister had to go to university, my parents had to go to work, and in true ME fashion, I was the only one who could possibly care for my nephew.

So, here I am, 09:24 on monday morning. I'm sat here in my sister's house next to a half full cup of cold coffee, my nephew is happily playing in the room next to me - making whooshing noises with his train set - evidently a rocket powered train.

And then we have the cats. Tommy and Tigsy - black/white, and tabby, respectively, and they're little superstars, really affectionate, playful and er kitten-like.
They're both vying for my attention, and they've definitley got it. Tommy is obsessed with flinging a bit of foam around with his claws, Tigsy - until just now, was curled up in my lap asleep, occasionally aggressively defending his resting place by turning into a whirlwind of claws whenever tommy came nearby - more often than not, catching me in the middle.
In an incredibly cute moment of curiosity, Tommy is checking out my nephew's electronic train playset which has four buttons set into the track - the idea is that as the train rolls over them, various sound effects are triggered.
Well Tommy is now sat in the middle of the oval track, pressing these buttons accidentally, and looking mighty confused when a sound of a cockerel crowing or birds singing comes from the train set . He was looking wistfully at the gulls flying over the house earlier. I fear however that despite his 16 (technically 20 if you count the thumbs, which are halfway up a cat's arm and used only for shooting rubber bands at people) sharp claws, the gull would eat him for breakfast.

So anyway, I'm gonna leave you in peace and check out how many times I've been bitten by fleas - I think the cats have been frontlined (frontline is a flea medication), but I know for sure that I haven't. I think I've been bitten about four times now. Bleah.
Anyway, I'll keep you updated!
















Ok, so as time went on, my ickle nephew's behaviour steadily worsened. Instead of getting more tired, he seemed to get more hyper. Starting by toddler-handling the cats, trying to picking them up by their tails, trying to use them as cushions etc. I managed to placate the little dude by sticking CBeebies (kids tv shows) on, which worked for a while. Eventually though, I found myself rehanging the curtains he pulled down (on top of the cats), picking up the bits of orange peel he left everywhere, and eventually, convinced him to take part in a little game, where I firmy tied him up and dared him to see how quiet he could be. Of course, after 5 minutes of this, he quickly got bored and started throwing photos around.

He's fairly chilled out now, now that his mum's back with him. Today he's learned that you can't feed southern fries to cats, that you can't pick them up by their harnesses, and that you can't rest your head on them without them yowling and making a dash for it - the best example is when he lay next to the cat, ready to rest his head on the cat - the cat saw it coming and dashed out of the way. Of course, the little guy didn't see him run off, and promptly with a big sigh rested his head firmly on the floor with a bump.

Still, we're all having fun here, order has been restored, the nephew is happy, the cats are happy, and I can go any time I want - but now that I'm here, I'm in no rush to go :).

...

...Okay. My sister and my nephew decided to go out to the toy shop roundabout 3pm, so I took the opportunity to catch the bus home. On the way back I got a bottle of lucozade, and within 5 minutes, was safely ensconced in my room, with my computer already powering up.
I started working on more of my 3d project, and after a few false starts, some of which really bugged me, I've started to make progress.
Before long though, the fact that I'd effectively had little over one hour's sleep in the preceding 28 hours finally caught up with me, and gratefully, I headed to bed, leaving the lucozade (which would have made me unable to sleep) mostly untouched.

I woke up much later that night, about 11pm, and spent a while longer on my 3d art.

Tuesday: I went to bed again, at a rough guess, roundabout 2am. I remember worrying about how I was going to pay for the work on my bike's engine, due to be done this saturday - the cost - £250 - is over a third of my monthly income and about half of my disposable income for the entire month - not a small problem but a great big one.
I must have woken up roundabout 11am, fallen asleep again, woke at 1pm, got out of bed and got on with yet more 3d art.
As I remember it I pretty much bimbled the night away, with 3d-art, watching youtube and chatting on MSN.

I was somewhat surprised to see that the website that I originally made a lot of (what have become over time my oldest and closest) online friends on, bolt.com, has finally been shut down. From what I can see on the notice on the site, the company seems to have gone into administration. That's a shame. I still have friends on that site who now, without my contact details, will never be able to speak to me again. It is a shame. Oh well.

Wednesday: I must have gone to bed in my typical pattern, after watching a load of dilbert cartoons, roundabout 2am.

I woke up at about 11, feeling quite happy and constructive. I did more 3d work, lounged about on MSN, and worried more about the work on my bike. I had to put pressure on the mechanic - a good friend, and the landlord of my local pub (two reasons never to get on his bad side - the saying used to be "never insult the man who prepares your food". Well I have NEW wisdom. Never ever insult the man who owns the only pub you drink in, and NEVER insult the man you trust to work on your motorcycle.) to be able to get my bike in for the 13th, and I was horrified at the idea that after all that, I might not be able to afford it. Eventually I got my mum to drive me to the pub - the scenic route, so we had the opportunity for a nice chat and everything - it's good to be in my mum's company - I should really make an effort to do it more often...

I got to the pub, aware that I had to discuss this issue but reluctant to put Ross (landlord/mechanic) in a bad mood. I checked my account balance at the pub and it confirmed what I had feared. Almost 20% less than I needed to pay him. Maybe he'd split it into two instalments? Maybe he'd defer payment? I don't know.

Anyway, I was pleased to see that there were a couple of my friends outside the pub, with accompanying bikes. Nigel was there with his "spare bike" as he calls it. Scott was there with his new (old) GPX, Matt was there as well. Now Matt is one of these lads - he has a very... pointed sense of humour - he's the sort of person that will insult your mum and look hurt if you don't find it funny. With that in mind, I chose quite early on to let him have his fun, and not get into an argument.

After a while, denis rolled up on his 1150GS, with our mutual friend Rob on the back. So we all had a happy 90 or so ominutes chatting and having a laugh etc, during which time, another couple of bikes turned up including skippy and his friend (who I know, but don't know by name) on their harleys.

Anyway, I stayed out and chatted to another guy - Ian - Who I know quite well, who had just turned up. I was shocked to find that despite being almost 3 times my age, I was earning more than he was. At that point, my cellphone started bleeping battery warnings at me, and it eventually died. Idea: Ross has the same phone as me.
I went in, and asked very nicely, and he went up and got me his charger and let me charge my phone in his pub - he's that kind of guy, would do anything to help a mate.

Sooooo, time went on, Denis, Rob, Matt, Nigel and Scott eventually left, I wandered back into the pub and spent the rest of the night chatting with Ross. while I was debating when to talk about my not being able to afford the work I'd spent ages convincing Ross to book ASAP, he actually got in first and told me that there was just no way he would be able to have the bike in on the 13th. Maybe the 10th of next month, but no way could he get the bike in.
I admitted I was pretty relieved and showed him the printout with my account balance, he just grins.
Out of the goodness of his heart though, Ross agreed that if money was a worry -and he conceded it was for him when he was my age - he would split the bill into two monthly payments. £125 each month - suited my pocket a hell of a lot better! So yes, the work is delayed, but hey, at least money's not a problem anymore.

Thursday: Ross wanted an early night as he had to do lots of driving the following day, so I left roundabout 12:40AM, got a taxi and headed home. I was very drunk at this point, having had to drink up (my last two pints, in addition to what i'd already had that night) in the space of 20 minutes. I bought a couple of large beers to take out, and got the taxi home.
I was so drunk I was concentrating on NOT concentrating on how drunk I was, and said barely a word to the taxi driver.
I got in, locked up, went up to my room, chatted on MSN a bit, then ran downstairs as I felt rather ill. I ended up rushing into the bathroom, and throwing up four times - not something I particularly enjoyed, but better out, than in, eh?

I went back to my room, left my computer untouched, and collapsed on my bed, too ill to move. Even rolling from my stomach onto my back filled me with sickening waves of nausea. I wanted to listen to some music, but the mouse cursor wouldn't go where I told it to, and I couldn't even see the song titles in itunes, my vision was that blurred. Eventually I passed out...

I woke up roundabout 11am, my head was miraculously clear. Of course I felt slightly unsteady on my feet, but no sign of the splitting headaches or damning nausea that my normal hangovers seem to feature. I got up, watched dilbert on the internet for a bit. Got undressed, got into bed, and then my dad came home.
Not long after that, a royal mail van pulled up, bearing a package with my name on it, from Thailand - YES! My jacket!!

So I got dressed, opened up my jacket, and pulled it on.
Even though I got it mail order, it fitted almost perfectly (it's a little short in the sleeves but only by an inch or so - the next size up would have been too large). So I've spent most of thursday doing more 3D art, playing MotoGP '07, just generally relaxing and living the good life.

My parents went out with my mum's father, to a restaurant like they do every thursday, and I figured that (as usual) I'd be without food again.
I took the opportunity to cook myself something, chilled out and watched TV downstairs, only to find that they HAD in fact (the first time in about 2 months!) brought my some food home - and I had to explain that I'd already eaten.
I ate most of it anyway, it was crappy but hey I should be grateful I spose.

I spent the rest of thursday watching Bill Bailey on the internet. He's coming here in november - I might see if I can get tickets...

Friday: So I'm here now, updating this. I don't know whether any of you have this on RSS so I'm going to add a little update just to catch your attention, to let you know that this one single entry is gonna be live for the next week or so.
Yep, at the mo it's 02:30, I'm finally drinking those two large beers I bought, I'm chilling out, in a relaxed mood, and now that money isn't a problem, I'm looking on ebay for more bits for my bike.
So yes, life is good for me. Long term it's no less bleak than it was before, but short term, I'm pretty happy.
I'm gonna go make that new blog entry now, then I'm gonna go enjoy my beer and maybe get some food before heading to bed :).
Later.

Tuesday (The following week): Okay. I'd be lying if I said I was too busy too keep up with my blog entries. Fact is, I was too busy relaxing, and too lazy to update every single day.

I stayed up on the internet most of the night. Unintentionally falling asleep, waking up at 4pm, and then staying up from then onwards. The hours ticked by. 8pm, 10pm, midnight, 2am, 4am.
Oblivious to their passing I amused myself in a hundred small pastimes. Organising the files on my computer, reading wikipedia, sitting in bed watching cartoons, generally being lazy.

Wednesday: I carried this on, through the entire night, never wanting to go to bed. Eventually I fell asleep, in the morning, after everyone else had gone to work...

I woke in the early morning, moved into a more comfortable position in bed, and fell asleep again.
I woke up in the early afternoon, did the same again, and fell asleep.

At 15:30, I woke up, and decided it would be best to get out of bed.
I went downstairs to discover more bolts for my bike had arrived. I went to the shops to get some random stuff, including a 1L bottle of lucozade which I'm sure I'll be glad of later.
I spent the next two hours working on my bike, replacing rusted old and useless fastners with gleaming new stainless steel pars. It never occured to me to wonder when I would actually ride the bike again.
I went upstairs later, spent a couple of hours on Xplane, flying a 747-400 from Liverpool John Lennon, to Paris Charles De Gaulle. I never did have enough time to complete the flight in one go.
I went to the pub - as I normally do on wednesdays. A quiet night in. And so it remained.
the night went on without incident, people came and went, I drank one beer after another, not too fast, just enough to chill out and relax.

Phil - a longstanding regular of the pub and mate of Ross came into the pub.
He came in with some of his friends and seemed to be having a great time. Ross and phil got on as best friends would, but I left them to theirselves for another reason; Phil was recently diagnosed with a terminal illness. The details of which are not known to me - I have not wanted to ask, though it seems to be some kind of brain condition, perhaps a stroke or something similar. It's not my business.
In the past six months, I have seen Phil turn into half the man he used to be. He stumbles, he staggers, his co-ordination is shot, it's like a living nightmare, it seems from the hour he wakes to the hour he collapses, he is on the threshold of losing conciousness. He comes in, he sits down, and he falls to pieces.
And yet, those words hardly do him justice. Phil made his living as an artist, and even now, in what are arguably the twilight years of his life, Phil continues to stagger passers by, potential customers and friends with his incredible talent. If nothing else, and nothing else it seems, phil can still produce, by hand, the most detailed and incredible airbrushed artwork.
A man like him should have made a fortune. Should have set up a business.
He shouldn't have been forced to suffer what he has suffered.

Anyway, Phil's dog, "Marley-hound" [Marley, named after "Marley" from scrooge, not Bob Marley, is a longhaired collie cross tricolour collie, hence his atypical appearance - in reality, he looks like an older greyer version of the dog shown in the picture] as Ross is fond of calling him, came bounding up to everyone in the pub, demanding, in his own canine way, everything from beer to dry roasted peanuts. This guy knows what he wants, marley will stand expectantly in front of someone, whine at them and eventually paw and bark at them, until he gets what he wants. Quavers, Dry roasted peanuts, Carling, Marley loves it.

So I spent the rest of the evening keeping marley occupied and I heard in the background a couple of comments relating to the "RSPCA man". "He loves animals, does the RSPCA man, He always fusses them, takes care of them" I heard.
In what I suppose could be called vanity, I asked ross "Who are you talking about".
"You. You are the RSPCA Man. You care about animals".
With a faint tinge of pride, perhaps more vanity, I went back to fussing marley. Yes, I love animals, yes I am recognised for it, and yes I am proud of it. Besides, Marley loves being fussed, and I love dogs.

I finally leave Marley to his own devices, join everyone at the bar at which point, Ross joins me to Tabasco Sauce. Me? I can't get enough of the stuff. I love it.

I finally get the taxi back home, and upon arriving here, realising that we have no tabasco, I get the nearest meat pie, get some ketchup-with-onion, and mix in as much chilli-powder and as much curry powder, as I can get away with.

I've not tasted it yet.
I'll taste it now.

Whoa. the sauce stars unobtrusive enough. Typical ketchup with onions. As time goes on though the taste gets drier, until the curry and the chilli start showing through. By the end, all you have is a vague impression of the ketchup and the burning of the curry/chilli.
Not a perfect impression of tabasco, but not a bad approximation...

Anyway, I'm here, listening to my iPod, eating meatpie with my own custom spicy sauce, and chilling with some beer, listening to one of Mushroomhead's cool tunes.

Later I'll move onto Eiffel 65's cool tune :D.
Have fun :).

A great loss for opera

As the news is no doubt by now loudly proclaiming, in the past couple of hours, Italian tenor Luciano Pavorotti has died following a battle with pancreatic cancer, at the age of 71.

I can't say that I've been to any of his concerts, nor have I seen him live, at all, but I am aware that Pavarotti was and has been for a long time, considered one of the great singers of opera, from his rousing rendition of nessun dorma at the world cup, which made him an instant star, to his work with two other artists as part of the "Three tenors", and even before then, he was an accomplished artist.

I didn't follow Pavarotti's carreer, or his personal life, admittedly I never emphatically followed his style of music. But those that did will no doubt be mourning a great loss today, as one of our opera greats passes away, leaving a hole in the operatic world, that will not be filled for some time.

For what it is worth, although I didn't particularly listen to Pavarotti, I was aware of his standing as a singer, and for that reason, I will be mourning his passing, as I suspect, will many thousands of others.

Rest in peace big guy.
It's a sad day for music.

Bike Bitz!

Okay, so I'm now determined to get my bike on the road again.
I've browsed round a few websites, to try to get parts, and have found to my horror, in true Aprilia fashion, that I couldn't get both the parts I needed for less than £50 - £50 for an Electrical brake light switch, and a choke cable.

So I've done some shopping round, picked up the brake light switch for £17, from the original site, but - get this, I've found a joblot - the entire choke assembly, not just the cable, for... £13.49 inc everything!

That's 40% off aprilia prices just by shopping round, AND I got extra bits that I wasn't otherwise going to get!

So now the parts are ordered, and they should arrive erm... At some time in the indeterminate future :).

And the holidays come to an end...

Yes, another moderatley alcohol influenced post. I seem to be producing more of those these days.

Over the past week, my parents have been away in dorset, nearly 300 miles from me, on holiday.
While I appreciate that to you American people, 300 miles is not a lot, if you look on the map, here, it's well over 3/5 of the journey across England. In short, to me, and everyone else in England, it's a looooooong way!

So what have I spent most of my time doing?

Well, sitting about mostly. I've been keeping control of the house, taking the opportunity to work on some old fan fiction of mine, and generally enjoying the peace and quiet. At least for the first few days. I spose for a lad used to seeing his family every day, five days alone at home does begin to affect my mood.

I've also made a musical discovery, in the form of a new artist;

"Era", the brainchild of a certain French guy by the name of Eric Levi, has jumped out at me over the past few days, and the more of his stuff I listen to, the more it takes me.

How to describe it... A cross between techno music, perhaps a cross between electronica, and classical/hymn music. In its time, Era has incorporated everything from techno music to gregorian chant into itself, lending its music a dramatic, modern, but yet, almost religious aspect.

I spose the only way I can really do justice to the music is with some demonstrations. First, we have the video for the first Era tune I came across, "The Mass". Based on Carmina Burana's "O Fortuna", this music starts with an ominous classical/vocal introduction, before a techno beat comes in, transforming the tune into something different. Once that's done, a surprisingly tender and gentle chorus presents itself, something that seems almost out of place in a tune like this...
It's not there long, but it's back a couple of times before the video ends, resulting in a rather dramatic combination of New and Old (don't I sound pretentious :( - just check the video out!)

I suppose, it's only fitting that I present the next in line, "Divano" . This is an extremely touching video, much mellower and softer, much less dramatic, but much warmer. You'll notice, that the chorus for this video, almost matches the chorus for "The Mass". I wonder what's going on there... A very touching video regardless...

And then you have "Ameno". This video is perhaps the most dramatic so far, There's nothing I can really say, the video is very powerful and very dramatic, the techno intro to the music comes almost as a surprise - watch it, is all I can say... [edit - the drums on this one sound a bit like M people :p - the album version is a lot better, much more dramatic :)]

Finally, I want to introduce you to the fourth Era tune song that jumped out at me.
The video, in this one, is not actually related to the song at all. Both come from seperate artists.
Nevertheless, this is an opportunity for you to listen to "Impera", a song that in Era's own fashion, is incredibly dramatic and emotional.

I suppose the thing with dramatic and emotional music is that every person takes away something different from them. Something that someone might not even notice, might bring a tear or two to someone else's eye.

Anyway, I thought it best that I give you all the opportunity to experience this music, perhaps you will decide that you like it. Perhaps not, but at least the opportunity is there.

I spose finally, I'd like to introduce you to the video that brought Era to my attention in the first place. A depiction of various imperial titans, by various artists. The backing track was the thing that jumped out at me, but I figured that if it were placed in context, at least someone might be able to get an idea of why it caught my attention.

Laters all :).

Talk soon :).

Teeth almost done!

WARNING: The following entry concerns a surgical procedure carried out upon myself by a dentist, and goes into graphic detail to describe my experiences during said procedure. If you have a weak stomach, or are averse to long posts, please do not read on, as you will not like what follows. If you don't mind long posts, and find pain and suffering amusing, or if you're just plain curious, read on! This is the second post in a saga of suffering at the hands of trained torturers - for reference, I suggest you refer to the second part of the first post, which describes the instruments used herein - you can find it here.

Yes I woke up at 10am today.
Then again at 11.
Then 12, 12:30, 1:30 and finally I got out of bed at 2pm. I had to dig out the dentist's number because I suspected I had an appointment today, though between you and me, I halfheartedly hoped I'd missed it. I spoke to my family about it though and apparently the dentists had in fact already phoned up yesterday to remind me that I did in fact have a 3:30 appointment.

So off we went, leaving my sister and nephew in the park for a bit, I ran along to the dentists, and proceeded to pace the waiting room for 15 minutes, nervously waiting to be called - I hate going to the dentists, always have...

Now - time for a dull little bit of background. One day at swimming, I noticed something didn't feel right, so I had a close look in the mirror to discover that the second molar on my lower left side had suddenly lost a chunk. A lump of tooth about 3mmx3mm had suddenly and randomly broken off that tooth. Well that was a few months ago and over the months, that tooth has been eroded more by drinks, had more tiny bits breaking off, and had been scraped away by brushing - the end result is a second molar, with a quarter of the crown broken off, and a full third of the center of the tooth missing - you could stick your finger in there, it was that bad.

I spoke to my dentist who said that she might be able to fill it, or that it might have to come out. Of course, after the last time I went to the dentists (see below somewhere), I really wasn't keen to have another tooth smashed into little bitsies and dragged out sideways, so it was with profound relief on my part, when I sat down in the chair, that she explained that "we're going to do a couple of fillings today".

Anyway, out come the plastic protectors of the witnesses of suffering again (Yes folks, they're back!!!), and onto my head they go. Of course, they'd steamed up to the point that they went opaque within a couple of seconds (I am hot - literally!), but not before I'd had the blood collecting bib of pain tied around my neck!
Out come the spiky needle of death, carrying its deadly cargo of befuddling poison of sleepyness!
Bang bang, two shots, one lower, one upper, and not a very happy me in sight.
I sit up, rinse the extra out, taking special care not to spit everywhere this time, and then BEFORE the stuff has taken effect, she lowers the seat again!
"What?!" I think, "she's not going to start before the anasthetic is she!?"

Of course, she wanders off and does a couple of things, before returning with everyone's favourite tool, The Buzzing Mechanical Hornet's Sting of Death! By this time, the anasthetic's taken hold, as she happily drills into my upper teeth, I think "hey this's not too bad, I can hardly feel anything. This's not bad at all". I sit there daydreaming, as I realise with a shock that I'm almost HAPPY to be at the dentists! But then out from nowhere, back from the deepest darkest recesses of my nightmares, she comes out with another tool. One that I've known about for years, one that gave me nightmares, I spose, one that got me into this mess...

Yes folks, see the long handle, the tiny pointed tip on the end, you could almost be forgiven for thinking this is only another dentist's drill. But oh no, it's not - see the rounded spherical tip, see the hardened burrs corkscrewing around it, this is the Corkscrewing Burr of Grindy Death!

She sticks it in my mouth, I feel it disappear into one of my teeth, and next thing, my entire skull starts vibrating, as this bloody horrible tungsten carbide thing grinds and grinds inside my tooth with a horrible GRAWAWAWAWAWAWAW noise that I more feel than hear. Damn I hate that thing, it really is the most hated dentists tool imaginable. I reflect on how much I hate it as my mouth fills with the horrible taste of powdered tooth...

Anyway, this goes on for about 20 minutes, she's alternatley drilling my teeth and then taking the CBoGD to them, and I'm really not enjoying myself. Meanwhile, her colleague is helpfully standing by with the Life Sucking Cleanser of Fragments, and the dentist comes out with another device, something that looks like a blunt hypo, sticks it in my mouth and does something, I don't know what, maybe blasts cold water at my tooth, or maybe cold air? not sure.
In any case, the Springy Punch of Nothing Much, as it is now known, is okay with me as it doesn't actually seem to do anything much...

Dentist then gets a strange square thing with a screw on one end, as she takes her hands out of my mouth I manage to mumble "that looks scary" - "it isn't", she says, "it's just a collar to cover the hole I've made in your tooth" - oh okay, let's call it er, the Non Scary Collar of Covering.
She eventually manages to get it round my tooth and tightens it up, to the point where I'm worried my tooth is going to implode.

Anyway, eventually the instruments of torture are downed, and I hear this horrific grating noise from my left - fortunatley, it turns out to be some kind of filling-making machine, as the helper helpfully helps by helping with passing another instrument, much like the Springy Punch of Nothing Much, but presumably filled with amalgam filling. She squirts a load of filling in, using the Squirty Springy Filling Squirter, scrapes off the excess, gets me to bite down on it to compact it in the hole, and that's us pretty much done...

So, now at 5:53 PM, almost 2 hours after the befuddling poison of sleepyness went in, I've still got a numb left-side of my mouth, but, I found to my amazement that the tooth I was worried she was going to have to extract, is in fact one of the teeth that she filled! Way to go, she saved my tooth!!

So now I'm in a good mood, eating the most bloody atrocious chips from "Les'Al's Plaice", reflecting on the fact that my so called doomed tooth is saved, and trying to get the god awful taste of amalgam filling out of my mouth...

PART TWO - ADVANCED PRACTICAL DENTISTRY!!!

As with the first instalment of this fascinating compendium, we cover the various instruments of dental torture used by our highly experienced medical professionals. In this section, we detail the newer instruments that have not previously been described - so let's start!:



2:1 - INSTRUMENTS OF SUFFERING

• The Corkscrewing Burr of Grindy Death! - This is probably the most evil instrument of torture. Much like a dentist's drill, this is actually used to file lumps off patient's teeth. As a bonus, it causes extreme discomfort by filling the patient's mouth with tooth-dust.
  

• Springy Punch of Nothing Much! - I don't know what this does. It might squirt air or maybe water into a tooth cavity, then again, it might not.
  

• Non Scary Collar of Covering. - This collar goes round a patient's tooth. Presumably to cover holes made in the tooth by other torture methods. It is also useful for tightening around someone's tooth until they fear the tooth will implode, much like thumbscrews, but with teeth instead.

• Filling Making Machine - This is a machine that makes filling. It doesn't come into contact with the patient. Harmless and therefore uninteresting.

• Squirty Springy Filling Squirter! - This squirts liquid filling into tooth cavities. It doesn't even cause any pain at all, unless the dentist jabs the patient in the eye with it.

Anyway, it's been emotional.
See you soon!

Storms, Protests, and Burgers...

Hokey then... First of all, Sorry! I've been neglecting this place a bit and a few things of note have happened - I don't doubt that I won't be able to do justice to all of them, because while I'm not on a time limit, My memories are a week or two old...

So first, let me start about what's going on in the wider world first. Hurricane Dean has hit Jamaica. Now we tend to hear of a few hurricanes in "those parts" (I couldn't say where Jamaica is without looking on a map - is it off the south coast of the US? [Checks map] Ah yes it is, broadly speaking), but this one looks like it's gonna be another biggie. People are hightailing it out of there as fast as possible, the ones that can't or won't are buying up all the supplies, food, water, condoms, etc that they can and hunkering down. Let's hope that they come out of the hurricane without too many problems, and for hell's sake, let's hope the hurricane dissipates before it reaches the US. Last thing Louisiana needs is another hurricane on their doorstep.

What else has been going on in the news? Oh yes. the latest round of these lunatic anti-climate-change protests is taking place as we speak at Heathrow Airport in London. Yep folks, this decade's political cash cow is climate change, and this year's hot potato is the so-called climate change protests. So now we have hundreds, perhaps thousands - I don't know, and don't care - of so called anti climate change protesters, anti aviation protesters and anti airport expansion protesters, driving, catching the train, and yes, FLYING, into Heathrow with the intention of causing as much havoc and drawing as much attention to their own blinkered causes as possible.
Now with me, protesters lack credibility in general. Why? Because I have only ever seen two informed, organised and objective protests in my life. Both of these were organised by members of the Armed Forces, who knew what they were talking about.
Not for the public, is the type of informed protest that can actually make a difference, no. I cite as one example, a strange woman who said that instead of flying to Greece to adopt two dogs, she would Drive instead, to save the environment.

Let me quote some facts and figures for you [references given]...
For this woman to drive to greece, she would produce 1254 Kilograms of Carbon Dioxide.
If she flew there, during the course of her journey, she would produce 902 Kilos.
This does not take into account the CO2 produced by either a ferry or the Channel Tunnel Train.

That is why I don't do protests. Because the people who want to protest about the construction of a third runway at Heathrow, are the people that were damned stupid enough to buy houses next to the busiest airport in Europe in the first place! Despite massively high house prices, despite high congestion, [road generated] pollution and high crime, these people buy houses next to the biggest airport hub in Western Europe, and are then stupid, absolutely bloody STUPID enough to complain about the noise! It makes me bloody angry!

And finally, on this note, you have the "anti aviation protesters", which I think is a politically correct way of saying "F***ing idiots!"
Okay, fine. We'll stop air travel, air freight, we'll stop it. Just like that.
Now what? You've no overseas transport, no foreign goods, no holidays, no long distance emigration, no military deployments/reinforcements, no scientific/space exploration missions - that's right, the Shuttle's an aircraft too... WHAT do you possibly hope to accomplish, other than making yourselves look absolute bloody total idiots?

I'd like to thank our police for keeping these idiots under control. Just as surely as any religious fanatic threatens our way of life with their radical proposals, these environmental idiots threaten industry, commerce, transport and trade with their bleeding heart crap. Perhaps these idiots should go to China - the major source of industrial pollution, and see how long the Government tolerates their protests there...

Anyway, now that I've got that out of my system...

My grenades arrived in the end, as did the rest of my ammo collection, as did, in fact, my copy of Silent Hunter 4. Seems the seller had enough of arsing about with the payment, which I'm certain I have now made twice, and has sent me the game regardless of payment. So what do I think to it after all this time? It's great. Silent Hunter 4 is a fantastic game, with great graphics, and is both incredibly addictive and incredibly involved. It's hard to give a more in depth review at 4:45 in the morning...

Things are mediocre at work, nothing out of the ordinary there, definitley nothing worth mentioning. The Army continues to drag its heels, which is fine, as I continue to drag mine. Don't get me wrong, I'm still getting fit and still preparing. On the home side of things, I was taken along recently for a nice meal at a place I've only ever set foot in once before - TGI Friday's.

I've gotta say I had a fantastic meal, first time I've eaten properly in ages. Managed to crab some nice nachos, totally covered in cheese, with plenty of soured cream, guacamole etc...

Then I had a huge burger complete with bacon and extra cheese - fantastic.
To accompany both, were two drinks, one, a massive huge milkshake - a real one, made with ice cream, and a second drink, a weird thing called a "Gremlin". This apparently had raspberry liquor in the bottom, melon liquor above that, citrus juice above that, and black vodka, whatever that is, above that. The drink was pretty cool, and pretty strong as well.

I then went and bought myself a new computer mouse (see my 3D blog), and have spent the rest of the week doing pretty much not much. Oh yeah, apart from fixing "Razor". Razor is my pet name for a 1/30 AD-64D Apache, that has been sitting on my desk since I decided to join the Army. It's kinda served as a symbol of what I wanna do with my life, serves as a reminder that there's more to life than working a call center job all day. I broke it by accident ages ago, and it's great to see it on my desk in once piece again, sure it's just a model but on a symbolic level, I'm sure she represents more than that.

I've sorted out all my ammo collection, there's a lot of it, some 4.6Kg. But hey, it brightens up a corner of my room, and reminds me of what I'm sposed to be doing with my life :).

See you all soon - check out the pics...

Another beautiful sunrise...

Yes. I am drunk. Not the best state of mind in which to write a blog, but one to which I am fast becoming accustomed. No - it doesn't happen that often, don't worry.
So what have I spent tonight doing? Is that a sensible question?

I've spent today doing nothing. I slept and I slept I won the grenades on Ebay like I said I did, and I spectacularly managed to achieve sod all from that point onwards...

I woke up later and started drinking.
I made peace with a couple of people on ARRSE. Perhaps, at least, I can reflect on the fact that my so called internet "enemies" are not enemies any more. So I've laid a couple of cyber-grudges to rest...

which makes me feel good. I've had a few chats with other internet mates, and the fundamental fact is that while I INITIALLY appear as an annoying big gobber internet charver boy, I soon *violins play* reveal myself to be more emotionally sensitive and considerate than ever before...

...A friend panicked me yesterday. He showed me an article that showed that our new unelected prime minister, Gordon Brown planned to remove all British forces from Iraq. I have seen no other news to support this but this article scared me enough

Let me go on record as saying that a sudden and unequivocal withdrawal of soldiers will destroy not only the trust we fought so hard to gain with the Iraqis, but it will destroy our relationship with America, also.

How many soldiers die in Iraq? How many soldiers die in Afghanistan? Would we be defeated, divided by such enemies? Will our soldiers have died in vain? The American and British armed forces are the best in the world. If these feral so-called insurgents divide the two strongest allies in the world then they will have not only won, but won in a spectacularly strong fashion, the likes of which they would have previously thought impossible.

If they divide -no - if Brown - if Labour - divides the two proudest peoples on earth, they will create amniosities that will split the west - in two. I naively thought that our government could only damage our country, when in reality, this one scotsman, Herr breun, could upset the entire european relationship with the United States

The United States cannot fight without us without committing more soldiers to Iraq, and We can not exist in our current political position of power, without the support of America.
We risk, in 2007, becoming what france (small f) became at the start of the war. We risk becoming fairweather friends.

For Great Britain to abandon a century of friendship, a half century of military co-operation, for us to turn our back on our allies, would be totally unforgivable, totally traitorous to the West in general, totally indefensable...
...and totally New Labour...

I fear for our future...

Short day!

Okay, well I woke up at 1pm. And again at 2. And at 4, 5 and then 6:30.
Surprisingly I had no hangover, though looking at my blog entry from earlier (see previous entry) I must have been extremely drunk.

So what have I done today? Not much. Sat about, bought loads of soft drinks from the local store, oh yeah, and I won two 40mm grenades from ebay!

Which will be fun, though I strongly suspect my bank account, though once healthy, is beginning to suffer.

Oh well, I get paid soon :).

The Glorious Twelfth

Okaaaay folks It's the glorious twelfth- the twelfth of August, which apparently, is the day in this country where it's traditional for those select few with country houses and firearms licences to go round massacreing game birds. Kinda like foxhunting except the birds the toffs shoot are semi domesticated - er, semi trusting of humans - unlike the foxes that they used to shoot...

Now I'm not anti foxhunting, not am I anti grouse/pheasant shooting. If a fox came at me with its jaws wide, I'd shove a stick of dynamite in its throat and pepper spray it in the face. If an animal dares to be aggressive, I feel an uncontrollable urge to spray the damn thing in Zippo fluid (gasoline) and set it alight. Perhaps somewhere during the animalistic squeals of agony, the animal will realise its mistake, in ever challenging the dominance of humans over animals...

Provided that is, that the animals have a chance to fight back. I am not a cruel person. In an ideal world, animals and I wouldn't interact. At all. If some animal is stupid enough to bare its teeth at me, I'll leave it be, comfortable and safe in the knowledge that my peers will turn them into handbags...

Now don't get me wrong - or perhaps, do get me wrong.
I hate the upper class in this country. I hate these antisocial elitist self insufficient aristocratic anachronistic do-nothing-know-nothing toff fuckwits that do nothing IN THEIR LIVES other than live in big houses, get paid to live in big houses, and generally treat the countryside as their own private back yard. Game deer? Game rabbits? Game pheasants? Grouse? Oh yes, they can shoot them and kill them...

For anyone else, this crap is called "Butchery" and is subject to English law. For these rich sponging government peers, the "law" is something that happens to other people. Typical bloody aristocracy. And yet, today, we have the so called Glorious Twelfth, the day when a hundred, perhaps a thousand trigger happy toffs, get to take their short range inaccurate weapons to the skies, relying on lowly servants to beat the birds into the air, so their masters can shoot them...

...yes this does happen - I once had the misfortune of speaking to a butler - a genuine English upper class upper crust Parker/Lady Penelope style Butler of the most refined type. This butler who spotted an injured animal, who phoned [unnamed animal rights organisation that begins in R and ends in A] who when asked, could he take the cellphone and keep an eye on the animal, was duty bound to ask in a perfect cut glass English accent "Hmm. May I take the phone, sir?"...

at the age of twenty one, my distain for the so called English upper class turned into complete and total revulsion. I would fight in a war against any society that turns men into slaves, whether that society be islamic or christian.

Still, I digress... Today is the day when thousands of so called "gentlefolk" blast the birds from the skies, watching them flailing and screeching towards the ground before the impact snaps their necks and crushes their chests...

Graphic - yes? I'm not anti-hunting. I'm anti-dressing-it-up-as-noble-sport. Hunting and shooting can be fun, I admit. But not for the sake of it. Granted, pheasants etc are incredibly stupid animals - REALLY they are! - but the only reason these poor things are victimised, is because they're the only birds that the fat idle do-nothing so called gentry can hit.

***pause*** Okay, in today's lesson, we learn not to knock a 50 caliber rifle round onto a beer glass, from 4 ft. They have a habit of shattering them. *picks glass up*

Anyway, I didn't really have any point to make, other than pointing out the differences in the way that the law is applied to rich people, and the way that it is applied to poor people. I dare say I'm missing out some of the specifics, but hey, the upper crust lot will come up with any excuse to preserve their lot in life - you only have to look at the scum in ashtead, as an example.

Anyway, I doubt the law will change. The serfs will continue serving the country, while the so called rich will continue living off it...

God Bless America...

Good Morning...