Earthquake

Well. It's all over the radio and the TV so it's official, last night Britain had an earthquake. There have been people interviewed on the radio and TV, talking of screaming, terrified wives and children, sleepless nights waiting for the roof to come down, of houses being shaken, of assuming that the world was coming to an end and the apocalypse had arrived.

As it happens I knew there was an earthquake since at about 1am I woke up because the room and the bed were shaking like mad. I'm not at my brightest and best when woken suddenly in the middle of the night and I couldn't work out what was going on so I assumed that it was in my imagination and I was going quietly mad. Then I went back to sleep. All over and done with in roughly 3 minutes. It's to be hoped nothing very important ever happens while I'm asleep because if it does I'll either miss it altogether or assume I dreamed it.

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Tuesday things

It's time for my first attempt at Tuesday things, as suggested to me by Irish Lucky Lass, so here we go:

Things that annoy me

  • The fact that in a spectacular moment of morning stupidity I forgot my handbag this morning, stranding me at work with no housekeys, money, phone, makeup or hairbrush. I now look like a tramp and can't even text anyone to moan about it.
  • The fact that I am skint. Again. As usual.
  • Whatever has upset my dog's innards. No one needs to be faced with 9 seperate heaps of dog crap adorning the living room carpet at 7am. Least of all me. Which is why I went to work adn left Micah to deal with it.
  • Waiting for my MRI scan of my Crohn's site next Thursday. It doesn't sound like an even slightly pleasant procedure and frankly, I'm bricking it.
  • Having run out of fizzy water. Trying to drink Fortisip without it is like drinking neat cordial and makes your tongue feel like it is wearing a furry jumper.
  • One of my colleagues who takes uselessness to entirely new heights and who makes my job so much more stressful than it really needs to be.
  • I got drunk on Friday night and invited Micah's friends to come and stay with us in the Lake District on Saturday night. I am such a pillock sometimes.

 

Things that please me

  • It's payday on Thursday, hurrah!!!
  • I'm off work on Thursday afternoon and Friday.
  • After next Thursday my MRI scan will be over and done with and the consultant will stop moaning at me.
  • I'm going to the Lake District on Friday.
  • I'm going shopping for a new dress on Thursday afternoon, always fun.
  • I've discovered how to make nice salad dressing.

 

So there we go, things in my world this Tuesday.

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Getting to know you

I pinched this from the lovely Spidermonky who has it up on her page.

 

You're on my friend's list, I want to know 36 things about you. I don't care if we never talk, or if we already know everything about each other.

Be honest! Copy from here then send directly to me in a comment then repost the empty questions if you want to in your own blog.

 

1) Are you currently in a serious relationship?
A.
2) What was your dream growing up?
A.
3) What talent do you wish you had?
A.
4) If I bought you a drink what would it be?
A.
5) Favourite vegetable?
A.
6) What was the last book you read?
A.
7) What zodiac sign are you?
A.
8) Any tattoos and/or piercings? Explain where.
A.
9) Worst habit?
A.
10) If you saw me walking down the street would you offer me a ride?
A.
11) What is your favourite sport?
A.
12) Do you have a negative or optimistic attitude?
A.
13) What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me?
A.
14) Worst thing to ever happen to you?
A.
15) Tell me one weird fact about you.
A.
16) Do you have any pets?
A.
17) What if I showed up at your house unexpectedly?
A.
18) What was your first impression of me? (hmmm…careful!)
A.
19) Do you think clowns are cute or scary?
A.
20) If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be?
A.
21) Would you be my crime partner or my conscience?
A.
22) What color eyes do you have?
A.
23) Ever been arrested?
A.
24) Bottle or can soda?
A.
25) If you won $10,000 today, what would you do with it?
A.
27) What's your favourite place to hang at?
A.
28) Do you believe in ghosts?
A.
29) Favourite thing to do in your spare time?
A.
30) Do you swear a lot?
A.
31) Biggest pet peeve?
A.
32) In one word, how would you describe yourself?
A.
33) Do you believe/appreciate romance?
A.
35) Do you believe in God?
A.
36) Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you?
A.

 

 

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Lunatic of the Week

This prestigious award has, for the umpteenth time, been awarded to the lovely Mohammed Al Fayed, a man who takes lunacy and bizarre public behaviour to new heights and who yesterday surpassed even his Harrods 'Shrine to Dodi and Diana'. We are of course referring to his appearance at the inquest into Diana's death and in case anyone missed the truly spectacular list of people that Mr Al Fayed thinks conspired to kill Diana and Dodi it can be found here, along with some choice snippets that he also came up with. According to Mr Al Fayed, Prince Philip is related to Frankenstein which is odd not only because Frankestein was Austrian and Phil is Greek but also because Frankenstein was a fictional character created by Mary Shelley. Still, as the mad Egyptian is proving time and again, there is absolutely no reason to let boring old facts get in the way of a good accusation.

Now don't get me wrong, I feel very sorry for Al Fayed. He lost his son and no one should have to experience the pain of losing their child however this is not an excuse to squander thousands upon thousands of pounds of taxpayer's money in fruitless enquiries which all come to the same conclusion. It's not a public enquiry that Al Fayed requires, it's residential mental treatment, a serious course of therapy to deal with his delusional behaviour, help him to channel his grief in a more productive way and frankly stop him from causing yet more embarrassment to his poor family. He may feel that this a good way to avenge his son but has he given any more than 3 seconds thought to Diana's sons? 2 young men who every six months pick up their morning paper to find the department store demon on the front pages decalring that their grandfather and father had their mother bumped off because she was up the duff with his grandchild and about to marry his son. Does he think that this is going to make their cornflakes seem more appetising and send them out of the door to face the workd with a smile and a spring in their step? Doubtful. They probably just want to kick him in the arse. I'm not related to Diana, I don't worship Diana, I'm not even interested in Diana and I want to kick him in the arse so lord alone knows how annoyed they are.

The crowning glory of his performance yesterday had to be when he was asked a question by a BBC journalist and he replied with "I not speaking to you because you a bloody idiot. You working for the establishment, you journalist, you working for MI6, you bloody idiot". Well quite. Frankly, I think it's time for the Al Fayed circus to quietly pack up and go home because it's all becoming very distasteful and more than a little bit silly. Which I would think was fine were I not being expected to pay taxes to fund this lunacy.

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A little favour…..

18 months ago my friend Charlotte's mum, Ros, was diagnosed with Leukemia. Sadly, after a few months of chemo and fighting it, she died. Charlotte has now decided that she's going to do her bit for Cancer Research UK and for Ros by running the Race for Life, along with my best friend Cass. This is a most impressive gesture as in all the time I've known them I've never seen either of them run (I have to confess that they haven't seen me either) although at last orders in the pub they can both summon a fine, brisk walk. If you happen to have a few spare pennies floating around between now and June 1st and you'd like to help out a truly worth cause would you bob along to her secure sponsorship site, Charlotte's Race for Life and sponsor her?

Thank you very much.

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There’s one born every minute.

While trundling through the BBC News website in an attempt to avoid tackling my intray I stumbled across this Gambling Muppet and his genius idea to sue the bookmaker William Hill. It's not April 1st so I assume this isn't a joke post by a BBC journo with a sense of humour, it must be real, it was mentioned on the radio as well. It'll probably be on the TV news as well because frankly, no one in this country can quite believe that the dozy fucking idiot is attempting to blame a bookmaker for the fact that his eyes are bigger than his wallet. If this case is successful I will be doing the following:

  • Enquiring of various embassies whether the judiciary in their country is run by morons, lunatics or badly trained howler monkeys and applying for residency in whichever one is the first to come back to me with a 'no' for all three.
  • Going to the nearest 'no win no fee' lawyer (or 'ambulance chaser' as they are affectionately known) and putting forward my idea to sue Ford because they didn't inform me that I would have to repeatedly fill the car they sold me with fuel to make it go. Well I shouldn't be expected to know that should I? Not if some pea-brained dog trainer from Newcastle isn't expected to know that if he spends £2 million quid betting but doesn't earn £2 million quid he's going to end up broke?

I mean really, what in the wide world of sport is going on here? Will bookmakers be expected to do a full psychological profile of every punter prior to opening an account and only allow them to bet on things that will definately happen? Will I be expected to spend an hour doing a psychometric test before I can put my annual £2 on the National? Or should the stupid pillock get his sorry little arse down to Gamblers Anonymous and shut up? I know which one my vote goes to. Added to which, if you award a gambling addict £2 million what is he going to do? Invest it in the stockmarket? Donate it to Save the Children? Do up his house? No, he's going to whack the lot on "Three Legged Donkey" in the 2.45pm at Haymarket and end up having to borrow the bus fare home. What on earth is this country coming to? 

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Bye Bye Hound.

Just before christmas this year our family dog, Barney, who'd been with us fort over ten years was diagnosed with an inoperable tumour on his side. It had been getting bigger and bigger and the dog had been getting smaller and smaller so the vet did some tests and found out that it was not a lump of fat, it was a malignant tumour and there wasn't anything to be done but give the dog steroids to improve his appetite and perk him up a bit while we waited for things to get worse and to call time.

On Saturday the dog was fine. A little bit wobbly on his back legs but still up for raiding the fridge and going for a walk with my dog Geoffrey. Yesterday the dog was very much not fine. He was hot and listless, he wasn't even interested in eating cheese and he just lay on his bed looking miserable and fed up. My dad decided that he would release the moths from his wallet and pay for the dog to have an emergency appointment at the vet's because he looked so thoroughly fed up and we thought he'd picked up an infection while in kennels.

So off we go to the vet's me and my dad, having carried the dog to the car. We carried him into the surgery and sat down to wait. A spaniel came up to him adn he didn't even try and start a fight (he'd alway had a strange and irrational dislike of spaniels). Eventually we went in and the vet told us that the chances were that it wasn't an infection, the raised temperature was being caused by inflammation in the tumour and the reason his back legs were becoming unstable was that the tumour was encroaching on his spinal column. He told us we could try the dog on antibiotics to see if it was an infection and buy more time, a day or so, but he said in in that tone and with that expression that says it would be pissing int he wind to even try. So we agreed to call time. We said goodbye and my dad even shed a few tears, something that he didn't even do when his mother died. Mind you, the dog was a far nicer creature than his mother.

The vet and a nurse came through with a large syringe full of blue liquid and asked if we wanted to stay with him while they injected him. My dad said he couldn't and so did I. So we gave the dog a hug and walked out fo the room. Stupidly, like the idiot I am, I looked back as we were going out and he was watching us. Now I feel bloody awful for not staying with him while he died, I should have not been such a bloody wimp and stayed, he should have had someone stay with him that he knew and I didn't do it. I feel like a proper bitch.

He's not in pain now and we called time at the right moment, I know we did because he'd only shown signs for a day, he hadn't been in pain for months. But their house still doesn't feel right without him, I still feel like a failure for not staying with him while he was given the injection,my dog and my father are pining for him and I miss him. Poor old hound.

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