Wet and windy

Bloody hell!! It always seems that when I drive to my sisters, either the outward or return journey seems to take forever. The last time I went, in March, took me nearly 8 hours. To put this into context, I live in Sidcup and my sister lives in the Peak District town of Glossop. A journey of about 230 miles. M25, M1, then the Woodhead Pass.

This time I went up on Saturday, and left at 7am. It was lovely, no traffic jams at all. Took me 4 1/2 hours. Sweet.

That is until today when I came home. In what some of the less reactionary papers are dubbing "The Flood of Britain!!!" I should have known it was going to be a long journey, according to the radio the M1 was blocked all the way from Barnsley to Sheffield (I join somewhere in between). So I decide to drive through Derbyshire.

Mistake.

Three hours, several 'rivers' and I finally get to Matlock, 40 miles (give or take the few I spent getting hopelessly lost around somewhere or other). After that it's easy peasy. The motorway is a bit wet, but thankfully after Northampton, the weather clears, and a mere 3 hours after that I'm home!! Just in time to watch Heroes.

Now to watch Die Hard for the umpteenth time.

Yipee Ka-Aye Muthafucka!!

Hoarding as a hobby

My house is crammed full of stuff. Old books, old clothes, old LPs and, adding to the family (so to speak), old CDs. And that's just the stuff I collect. On purpose. There's a great deal of crap I have no use for ever, that seems to insinuate its way onto and into various bits of furniture, all around the house. Bank statements from 1997, letters from long since pension companies telling me how little I had saved 12 years ago. Why do I keep all this stuff? If I do notice that some bastard hacked into my account 10 years ago, what the hell can I do about it now? And as for the pension people, my money's probably been 'reinvested' in a house in Malibu.

Am I an old romantic fool who likes to wallow in nostalgia? I don't think so. I've not lead much of an exciting life. Certainly nothing that eventful happened then that I hark for. Mainly my life was spent working and getting drunk a great deal. Which is what your supposed to do in your twenties, isn't it? Now, in my mid-thirties I look back with great fondness on those times, but I don't want to re-create them now. Christ almighty, it takes me a full 36 hours to recover whenever I drink these days, I'm not about to kill myself chasing some rosetinted dream

So, we can rule out nostalgia and romanticism, which only really leaves one thing. Laziness. Bone idle laziness. Now here I must hold my hands up. I am one lazy fucker. I really am. I can't even be bothered to get a girlfriend. Yes, that's what it is, I can't be bothered. I'm sure if I did bother, then... Anyway, laziness. That and a real apathy for throwing things away. Add the two together and you get, well, me.

I opened my sock drawer the other day, and what did I find? 10 CD covers (cds missing), a porno book (well thumbed!), a booster kit for telephones, complete with 10 metre cord, 5 pairs of socks, and one pair of underpants. Plus 100 record cards, each carefully and lovingly left blank. Two pens (none of which worked) and some old letters from a dear friend of mine who moved one year and forgot to give me her forwarding address.

All this leads me to computers. The hoarders dream? Not necessarily. Now we can store all our music, photos, films, correspondence and virtually everything else into a small box in the corner of the room. Everything that I have lying about me, all in there, and, at the touch of a button, I can sort how I want it. By date, genre, file size, alphabetically, numerically, by importance. Pretty soon there'll be no hard copy of anything to file away. Even the very books we read will be primarily downloadable.

All this means that future generations will miss out on something wonderful. Something that can gladden the heart on the most miserable of days. Finding and playing that lost CD you thought had gone forever. Opening a book, and out recovering an old photograph or love letter that brings a tear to your eye. That sudden link to the past. So evocative and emotive. It's a beautiful feeling.

Not so long ago I was sorting through some old files, when I happened across a stack of old photographs of my parents when they were in their twenties. It had such a powerful effect on me that I had to sit down, and cry a little. There were pictures of me and my sister when we had just moved into our house (the one I still live in - I'm 36 next week, and it'll be 35 years I've lived here). What made it so sad is that I couldn't go and show my mum and dad, they're both dead now. But it was still a happy moment for me to see them again so unexpectedly, healthy and happy and in their prime.

The computer generation will miss all this. Yes, everything is stored away on the hard drive, and backed up in case of an emergency. And yes, you can just click on the relevant directory and go straight to the pictures from 20 years ago. But that will be all. There won't be love letters hiding in drawers next to outdated statements. There won't be the empty CD covers behind the sofa. Half the fun of looking for something is that you invariably end up finding something else that's more interesting. Hard to do when you don't have to search.

Everything that defines you in one small box.

"There's my computer. It contains my life."

I'm glad I'm a hoarder.

Football thuggery

I see that Ousmane Dabo is considering suing Joey Barton for punching him unconcious and 'disfiguring' him.

For the love of God, why not call the police? And why haven't they arrested Barton in any case? Are footballers exempt from prosecution?

Some friends I spoke with say that the police can't arrest Barton unless Dabo wishes to press charges, but surely his intention to sue could be construed as such?

Makes me as sick as a parrot.

Coming back

Bloody hell, I hadn't realised over a year had passed since I last posted.

You'd think that a lot would have happened, and it has. Went on holiday to France again last year. We stayed in Lot, near the Dordonnes I think. Not a bad holiday, but never as good as the first one.

Still in a year, I've been on a date. Yes! One date!! Which went very well. I'm not sure what went wrong after that, we spoke several times afterwards, then she sort of disappeared. Not in the physical sense, but unanswered texts and e-mails. Don't fret, it wasn't like I was bombarding the poor girl. Two texts and two e-mails are hardly the hallmark of a weirdo stalker.

Since then my luck has been drier than the Kalahari. Oh well.

Oh, and my friends Simon and Vanessa have had a child at last, born sometime in April. I tell you he's a useless get. I only found out last week, three weeks after the birth, and then only by accident. Apparently he sent me a text and an e-mail. Both of which somehow failed to reach me.

Or perhaps he's trying to tell me something.

On a sporting note, I see that Man Utd were beaten by AC Milan earlier this evening. I'm an Arsenal fan, but I even I would like to commiserate to you Manc fans out there.

Looking for somebody.

I've decided to re-join the Soulmates webside, a year after I cancelled my previous subscription. Why? The last time generated no interest, so why should this time be any different? But a dear friend of mine said something the other week that made me decide to give it another go.

I can't remember the exact words she used, suffice to say that if you want your dreams to come true, then you have to do something about it. Love might find you, but you stand a better chance if you make yourself noticeable.

Well I've done it, and now I shall just wait and see if anyone's interested.

Time for change.

I've been quiet for some time now.

In the time I've been away, I lost my job. Well, losing my job, I still have two weeks left here. It was all amicable, the decision to close our office was entirely justifiable. To be honest we saw this coming 5 months ago.

Still, the pay off was more than I could have expected, and another company have taken me on. Which is nice, as they are all ex-employees of my current company, and we've worked together before. That takes care of the 'new boy' syndrome.

The only downside is the new role means that I won't get so much internet access during the week. The job is split between me working on the shopfloor, doing some assembling and packing, and upstairs in the sales office, doing admin work. Thankfully, in a year's time, there should be a permanent role opening in the office, which they had previously earmarked for me, but due to slight miscalculation, could not offer this year.

All in all, I am happy. Nervous, but happy. It will mean quite a lot of physical work, but that can only be a good thing.

Picnic in the park

I've not posted for a few weeks, which is strange.

So, Bank Holiday Monday, and we've arranged a picnic near June's house in Hackney at Victoria Park. Me, June, Blue, Tim and Gordo, my holiday friends, have agreed it would be a good idea.

I get the train to London Bridge at about 11.15, and I've never seen so many people going to London on a bank holiday. The train was packed. Then I realise the tight arses at Southern Railways have only provided 4 carriages instead of 8. If you're not from the UK, or have never travelled on a train here, there is no airconditioning, and the windows seemed to have been welded shut. Add to this the engine heat, and you can imagine it's not a pleasant experience.

Anyway, get to London Bridge, and check out the bus times. I have 20 minutes until the 48 is due. Time for a cup of tea! Too much milk, and not enough stirring of the tightly packed teabag. I throw it away, making sure I put it in a bin, and don't just leave it lying around. There are some particularly mean looking coppers who may, or may not, have been following me.

Soon I arrive in Hackney. June has told me to get off at the stop just past the bingo. Being a bit dense, I don't phone her to let her know where I am, and decide to look for the road I saw on my A-Z earlier. 20 minutes later and I'm completely lost, and then decide to ring June. Another 20 minutes later, I'm at June's place. Gordo (who I passed on the bus ages and ages ago!) are there. 10 minutes later and Blue turns up.

We have something to drink, then set off for the park.

It seemed to take ages to get there, but the walk was very pretty, right along some canal path. We find a shaded area, and start to dish out the goodies. June has cooked a lovely bacon and mushroom quiche and Ginger cake, which I must admit was absolutely scrumptious.

It was an absolutely lovely day. We sat around chatting and being silly, taking photographs.

On the way back, we stopped off at a great pub, The Dove, and had a few drinks outside in the sun. The street was quite vibrant, considering the Notting Hill Carnival was on. Then we went back to June's place, where we viewed all the pictures we took on holday. That made me both happy, and sad.

Afterwards a treat for Blue! I'd taped her some A-Team episodes, and we watched two. It was just like being on holiday, when we watched Blue's A-Team DVD.

Before we knew it, it was time to go home. I give June the bear hug I promised her, and promptly broke one of her wine glasses while swinging her around.

Blue gets her bear hug at the bus stop before her bus arrives.

And then I'm alone, and I feel sad. It's always the worst time when you have to go home.

But I will always have the memories, especially Blue monkeying about in the trees.