Norfolk Single Dad

Testcard

2011-12-26T09:28:00.000Z

I think it's time to have a break from this stuff, maybe even stop altogether.

If you want to keep up with what Sam and I are up to bookmark these:

Sam & Dad's Excellent Adventures - places, events, plans, exploring, etc:
http://sam-and-dad.blogspot.com/

Sam & Dad's Excellent Food Blog - taste tests, food experiments, comparisons, fun food stuff!
http://sams-excellent-food-blog.blogspot.com/

So long.

Christmas Duck

2011-12-25T09:25:00.000Z

Almost as surprising as the fact that there's been a mandarin duck in The Walks for about two weeks now is that the eastern European community haven't managed to catch it....

3.48a.m.

2011-12-24T03:50:00.002Z

Nearly four in the morning.

I might as well stay awake now.

Hopping Off The Wagon - On Purpose - And Christmas Arrangements

2011-12-12T19:03:00.000Z

My stash of prescription pills of disulfiram tablets ran out a week last Friday.

Disulfiram is the drug that "encourages" me not to drink alcohol.

What did I do? Straight down the offy to celebrate being off the pills and free to have a drink? No, I didn't - I did the same as I've done for the last nine weeks. I went about life and didn't drink the sauce. And I was pretty bloody chuffed too! Yay me. I did really, really fancy a beer though, mainly because I like drinking beer! Sounds obvious, but it's true.

So my last disulfiram was on Friday 2 December. Since then I HAVE drunk alcohol, on one day. I wanted to see if I could stop again once I'd started, and I did. Yay me, again.

I won't go back to the pills until after Christmas. I like beer, I like Christmas, and I really like Beer At Christmas. The best way for me to enjoy Christmas Day itself (without Sam around) is home, alone, cooking a way-too-big dinner, watching telly, and sinking into a lager-soaked fug.

On the subject of Sam and Christmas, he'll be with the ex again. And that is entirely my decision. I figure that, right now, Sam will be better enjoying the magic of Christmas in a large family atmosphere than we would here. Of course, I would like Sam to be here, and we'd have an absolute blast, but we will have our Christmas Days in the future. I emailed the ex to tell her that I was happy for this, and when I next saw her when I was collecting Sam from school she was nearly crying asking me "Are you sure?" etc.

Sam and me will be together from "maybe" 28 or 29 December until teatime on 3 January, the day before school starts again. It's already shaping up to be a bloomin' brilliant time. As well as Santa's delayed delivery we're going up to Lincolnshire for the traditional family cards night (see next chapter), a trip to pick up Old Bob from Stansted airport (we'll go a couple of hours early to so some plane spotting), and banger racing including three-wheelers on New Year's Day.

Our family, along with many others I expect, has a tradition of gathering at Christmas for a fun evening of card games - in our case the game of choice is Newmarket. This year it will be possible for Sam and me to attend together for the first time, and I can't wait! We're going to cook a ham to contribute to the bring and buy supper. I hope Sam can start saving memories of these evenings, the way I have (and I'm sure, all the rest of the family).

I first remember playing Newmarket at my Uncle Barry and Auntie Val's house in Lincoln. A huge house that was previously a guest house, they had elderly relatives living "upstairs", there was always a mahoosive table full of food to pick at, and they had two sons, my nephews Gary and Glen. These two boys were five or six years older and on a pedestal for me (my first pair of football boots were Glen's hand-me-downs, and were three sizes too big). I remember knocking back Schloer and thinking I was very grown up while we played cards.

Newmarket was always played in the kitchen at Mum & Dad's house when I was young. Dad and other older males would occupy the living room and watch Morecambe & Wise, and The Bridge Over The River Kwai or The Great Escape while we made a racket in the kitchen. One year (when the song "Grandad" was in the charts) we had just had a light fitting put in that you could lower or raise as required. Of course, for a card game, the light was pulled down low! I most remember my Auntie Pam going on an epic losing streak, whereas my Grandad was winning everything. Auntie Pam kept on singing "Grandad, Grandad, we hate you...." then blowing raspberries and flicking a V-sign at Grandad!

I was still on the Schloer.

I can also remember the table being set up in the living room one year, and Dad was relegated to the bedroom to watch telly on his black and white portable! The card games always petered out at maybe ten o'clock, as the younger players were past bedtimes, even though it Was Christmas Day. Year after year me and Mum would end up in the living room late at night.

"That's it for another year," Mum would say. We stayed up until after midnight with a late snack of cold meat, cold spuds, and pickled onions. Warm, cosy, perfect Christmas memories for me, and that's what I want Sam to have as well.

CSA And Maintenance

2011-12-09T13:10:00.000Z

I've decided to toe the line with regard to maintenance for Sam, and take direction from the CSA.

The arrangement at the moment is that I pay the ex 15% of my RAF pension, plus half of Sam's school costs. This was one of the options that the ex asked for the last time we danced around the subject of money.

Now, although this was what she asked for, it is almost certainly less than the CSA would decree, and I want things to be right and proper. Even if it will involve some financial pain. Also I am fed up of the ex dangling the threat of "going to the CSA" over my head like the sword of Damocles, so we'll be square in that regard.

I'm going to phone the CSA this afternoon.

Ceiling Streamers?

2011-12-08T17:35:00.000Z

Where do you find them these days?

Last year Sam and I fixed up a new set of streamers - or whatever you call them - but some ended the festive season in the bin. A couple fell and snapped under their own weight (nice workmanship China), a couple fell victim to Santa's pressies (NERF blast1!), and more were swiped away during a light sabre duel. Not a real one, obv. God only knows what havoc Obi Wan's toddler would wreak if he found and switched on his dad's light sabre - guess it would be worse than Sudocrem handprints all over the bathroom though....

Anyway, where can I find long stringy decs for the ceiling? It's tempting to knot Poundland tinsel. We used tinsel on the ceiling when i was a child; Grandad would sit on the settee directing operations whilst fiddling the Scrabble tiles. They were stuck up using blu-tak (sp) and required re-sticking once a week. I may buy some sticky paper and we'll make some, but it won't be enough for the whole room.

Our Christmas tree was decorated before November was out, but that's because to wait for the next opportunity would have been half way through December. It's as tasteless looking as ever, but all the better for it. Lots, and lots, and LOTS of "Mummies" (with a capital M) decorate their tree to within a millimetre of its life, and it has to be perfect. Every light in place, every bauble 'just so', and god forbid that anything handfuckingmade by children is allowed. Long live Sam and me and the haphazard "there's a branch, stick summat on it" approach. I like it. Sam likes it. Together we love it. So get knotted the middle class!

We're pretty low budget. Definitely won't win any style awards over Christmas. But it's Ours.

Actually. just having a moment. The Winnie the Pooh lights on our tree. And the cloth Piglet, Winnie, Tigger and Eeyore - me and Sam's mum found them together and oooh'ed and aaah'ed about. We only knew about them because I was moonlighting at Woolworths in the evenings after my RAF days, to help keep a roof over our heads. They were Very popular, and I "might" have hidden them somewhere so that she was guaranteed to find them on the Saturday morning. Hmmm, go away brain.....

Is Eleven O'Clock Too Late On A School Night? Part Two

2011-12-08T08:35:00.000Z

I've gathered opinions from a few different people about Sam's late Wednesdays. The first one was "Check that the text messages about his fall last week weren't sent after his mum had got him home, put him to bed, put her feet up with a cuppa, and then thought 'better text the ex'" That's a very good point. The ex may have sent the pictures at twenty five past ten, but they may have been taken at eight o'clock.

If this isn't the case though, the unanimous feeling is that eleven o'clock on a school night is much too late. I've asked plenty of people too, just to be sure of my position, including two teachers, a primary school SENCO, and a dinner lady (surely The Oracle for school matters?). Of course you don't have to be involved in education to have a valid opinion.

There's a balance to be achieved I suppose. Does the boost to Sam's happiness outweigh the lack of sleep and possible impact on his learning? He's not struggling in school, he is slightly above average in some things and slightly below average in others. But would more sleep move him upwards so that he is average in some and well above average in others?

it's probably all irrelevant in any case. Even if the weight of evidence and opinion is against an eleven o'clock bedtime, do you think the ex would take any notice?

Is Eleven O'Clock Too Late On A School Night?

2011-12-07T08:21:00.000Z

What do you reckon?

I'm always walking on eggshells when dealing with the ex, and it wears me down. I try to offer reasonable, non-controversial suggestions and ideas and what I get back more often than not is indignation, veiled put downs and manipulative false pleasantries. Most things that I do are wrong in some way, any things done at their place are inevitably correct.

Last Friday was the weekend for Sam to be with his mum. Around tea-time I sent a message to the ex asking if I could chat to Sam after his martial arts class that night. In return I was sent "You know he doesn't go to ksw when he's with us on a Friday, (we've considered stopping it, however he enjoys it and we can afford for him to go so *shrug) but yes, you can chat to him."

Wow, thank you for granting me a few minutes to speak to my own son. And damn right they can afford martial arts, the amount of money flowing into that household they could afford to buy the whole school. Most of all, I had no idea that Sam NEVER attended classes on the weekends we are not together. That means that if I wasn't out of work at the moment and able to take him to Wednesday classes he would only attend two classes a fortnight, the Friday and Saturday of "our" weekend - each of which takes two and a half hours out of our time together. Her confrontational attitude is typical, sad to say, and she seems unable to adjust her manner to address different people - if she's having a row with one person then everyone else gets it too, including me. I wonder if she passes on her bad moods to her pupils too? More than likely.

So, bedtimes. On Wednesdays, after martial arts, Sam goes along with his mum and her boyfriend to fly toy planes for the evening. I had assumed that this would go on until maybe nine o'clock, which is after Sam's bedtime - but as it's something he likes to do I'm happy with it, on balance. Last Wednesday however, at twenty five past ten, I received a message with a photo - Sam had fallen over at the toy plane flying and split his lip. Add in the time to get home, and get ready for bed, and it's clear that on Wednesdays Sam is going to bed at eleven o'clock! I'd be OK with that if it was a rare event, but every week? I'm going to have a word with his teacher to ask if she can keep an eye on him on Thursdays.

I was shocked at that little revelation. When I was a boy my Dad would, a couple of times a year, take me to evening matches at Lincoln City. It was a great treat and meant going to bed after ten o'clock! It also means that my mind is made up on another dilemma that's been on my mind - should I let Sam stay up on a Saturday night to watch Match Of The Day? From now on, yes I shall! He can sleep in on the Sunday mornings if he wants, which is something he can't do on a Thursday morning after toy plane flying club.

Jobs A Good 'Un (Not That Kind Of Job Though)

2011-12-05T18:55:00.000Z

Isn't it odd that whenever we make ourselves a list of "a few" jobs and errands to do, it ends up taking so much longer than we expected.

I didn't even have that much to do. However, I was on the back foot after waking up at quarter past eleven - maybe still being awake at four last night caused that though? Still, on to the errands....

All there was to do was:

Recycle some glass jars and bottles
Return my heart monitor to the cardiac department at the hospital
Recycle some batteries
Buy a sympathy card
Return a repeat prescription to the surgery
Photocopy some ID documents for a job application, and post same
Print an appeal letter against the car parking fine I received when I was admitted into A&E nine weeks ago, and post that too

Most of this could be done within an area measuring maybe three hundred metres, so how come I returned home three hours after I left? It's not just today's jobs, and it's not just me! It seems to happen every time and to everyone. Odd. It didn't annoy me, in fact I found it quite interesting to monitor my slow progress throughout the afternoon.

My good humour was helped by a spritely old chap at the hospital. As I was driving into the car park I spotted him walking down the hill towards a zebra crossing, so I slowed down, as did a car coming in the opposite direction. Old boy, tan coloured coat, walking stick, broad ruddy features, shock of white hair in a side parting, checked both ways then made his way onto the crossing. Some people furtively acknowledge drivers who have slowed for them, but not this guy. When he reached the middle of the road he pirouetted with one foot held aloft in front of him, punched both arms diagonally skyward then bowed at each of us in our cars and mouthed "Thank you"!

The card is to be sent to Gary Speed's widow and family, from Sam and me.

Cosiness Abounds

2011-12-04T17:14:00.001Z

Christmas lights glowing, Midsomer Murders on the telly, tea and chocolate biscuits on tap....

Lazy December Sundays don't get any better than this!

Later edit (1928hrs) - yes they do.....throw in a long, hot bath, back to back episodes of Man Vs Food, and the new edition of the BBC History magazine. Nirvana in Norfolk.

Woke Up Late - Very Late

2011-12-03T13:20:00.000Z

Late as in twenty past twelve late.

It doesn't matter, because I have no job to go to, and no son to look after.

I am definitely, determinedly, not even thinking about jobs today, I want a day away from it. I'm going to just do my own thing instead. Nothing that involves much movement though, this stupid heart monitor is just too intrusive to do do things very energetic. Only two more days then I can get rid of the bloody thing.

Twenty past twelve. Do you think I was tired, maybe?

One Hundred Not Out!

2011-12-02T21:31:00.000Z

Unwanted milestone - today I made my one hundredth job application.

The high-rolling position with which I reached a century is that of "Loader" - aka binman. Paying...they only say "exceeds minimum wage", so probably £6.09 an hour. I bet I won't get anywhere with that one either.

I met Old Bob earlier at a cafe. He needed a good listening to as he's had a very low week because his ex-girlfriend, the diabetic alcoholic, was found dead in her flat last Thursday. Although Bob had ended their relationship several months ago he still had an emotional investment in her, and had still been phoning her to see if she was OK (which he kept a secret, he knows that we would have bent his ear if we'd known). Her death is the least surprising surprise of the decade, but it still hit him hard. We talked through it over poached eggs and fried bread. Poor old Bob, and poor old her, she was only fifty and completely threw her life away.

So here I am now, Friday night, sitting in dressing gown and thick socks (not got the heaters on and the storage heaters won't be fixed until at least 16 December), but feeling OK-ish. An exciting weekend lies ahead, comprising of trying to spend as little money as possible. Time for some cleaning I suppose.

Could be worse!

Wired

2011-12-01T18:08:00.000Z

Yesterday I was in hospital, briefly, to have a heart monitor fitted.

It's not half as serious or complicated as it sounds, and I'm not about to keel over and turn my toes up. Hopefully. It simply means that I have three electrodes stuck about my person which are attached to a digital recorder - this monitors my heart activity twenty four hours a day. After five days I take it all off and return it to hospital. Simples!

I moved the fitting to this week so that I wouldn't have the thing working over a weekend with Sam - I didn't want him worrying that Dad was poorly, or had to see doctors, etc. Since my trip to A&E eight weeks ago I've felt fine, so I am expecting and hoping the five day monitor to show nothing out of the ordinary.

It's a little inconvenient though. Dressing and undressing are a bit of a pain, but I shouldn't complain really.

Eight and a half weeks without alcohol, yay!

Ever Bean 'Ad?

2011-11-30T19:27:00.001Z

I spotted the amazing pricing shown above in Hardwick Road Tesco earlier on this evening. The small tins on the left cost 33p each. Those double their size on the right cost 32p. Not a simple case of the half-size tin costing just a tiny little more than half the price of its bigger brother - it's actually a whole penny cheaper, full stop. The mind boggles. No wonder the big cans had almost sold out.

Another good offer is on the Bavaria non-alcoholic beer at the moment. If you need to stock an alcohol-free beer for a party or barbecue or somesuch, try this stuff, it actually tastes rather lovely!

Beans, Beans, Good For Your Heart?

2011-11-30T14:57:00.000Z

So they're supposedly good for your heart, and if you eat a lot of them....

Are baked beans really good for your cardiac health? I'm rather curious, being at a certain age and with a family history of heart disease.

Do you think it's an old (house)wives' tale? Or a marketing strapline? Or just sound medical opinion?

As you may have worked out, there's a baked beans caper afoot!

Gary Speed

2011-11-29T10:09:00.000Z

Gary Speed played football for a living, and started out with the team I used to trek around the country following, Leeds United. He hanged himself on Saturday night.

Why the hell did you do that? I'm really, incredibly mad with the idiot.

Three emotions are most common for both those who kill themselves, and people affected by their death - sadness, hopelessness and anger. It's a harrowing thought that he would have felt that way in the darkness on Saturday and couldn't see any way ahead except to die. How overwhelming must it have been?

The same feelings must be equally unbearable for his wife right now, not to mention his two young sons. How do you tell them that Daddy chose to be dead rather than to be alive with us? The ages involved are very similar to Sam's and mine.

I've felt at rock bottom in the past and wanted to not be part of life any more, and it's been Sam's existence that has put a brake on me doing anything about it. How awful must things seem to remove that deterrent, it's surely the most important thing in the world? Now he's dead Gary Speed won't have to deal with whatever drove him to suicide, so maybe that would be a relief to him, if he were able to feel it. His sons will be dealing with it throughout their own lives. I couldn't lumber Sam with that stigma and emotional burden.

I'm certain those boys will be thinking that Daddy went because of something that they themselves have done, that's how children think in that situation. That's a whole lot of guilt to handle, even when it's unwarranted. Poor little buggers.

This man seemingly had everything, beautiful children and wife, fabulous country house, wonderful job, and a promising future, so it shows that despair and depression don't respect such things. I've often joked that money could buy you a better class of misery, but that sounds ridiculous in these circumstances.

Sam and I watched Gary on Football Focus on Saturday dinner time, he was a guest along with Gary McAllister, another player from the Leeds team I followed. After the show we dug out lots of the football programmes from those days and looked through them to find photos of the two Garys, and Sam vainly tried to spot me in the crowds in the background. It was a seismic shock to hear of the suicide. Gary Speed was a hero of mine, I saw him make his debut, and watched him play hundreds of games for my team. I feel sad he's dead, and angry with him too, but nowhere near as sad and angry as his family must be feeling.

Why do these things happen to good people?

Concentrate!

2011-11-28T17:28:00.000Z

No messing around with women, OK! Not now.

I have to find a job, and I cannot be doing with being awake way too late because of women. It's time to concentrate on looking for work, completely. I need one hundred percent of my attention away from Sam to be concerned with employment, and the search for it.

Also I won't be even slightly tempted to spend money, be it for coffee, or whatnot.

This starts tonight, right now, goodnight!

Working Up A (Cold) Sweat

2011-11-24T18:14:00.000Z

Today was a bad day. A really bad day, in fact.

I've now applied for ninety three jobs. Today's applications include care work, litter picking, warehouse work, admin, cleaning, vegetable factory work, and receptionist. I'm beginning to feel the first pangs of panicky fear.

The care work interview on Tuesday went OK, the guy was spoon-feeding me answers where I didn't tell him what he wanted first time. So I think that Will happen, but not in the immediate short-term, judging by his language. Some comfort, not much.

I can cover the rent at the end of this month, then "maybe" at the end of December. So I'd better pull my bloody finger out and start working quick, or I'm buggered. Surely something will turn up soon?

To try and make some money I've sorted out some things that I would like to keep, but which will have to be sold. I'll start putting them on Ebay after the weekend. Difficult times indeed.

Back To The Old House

2011-11-23T19:56:00.000Z

Morrissey would rather not have gone back to the old house, but I quite like it, in a melancholy way.

His problem was that there were too many bad memories, but for me the memories are overwhelmingly happy. Or at least safe, content, uncomplicated. I went back to the house in Sleaford today, you see, to collect some things.

Mum and Dad's cherished dining table being the main one. It was their pride and joy, highly polished, made of hardwood, measuring about two metres long by one and a half broad. Ish. To size it almost exactly for you, it fits a Subbuteo football pitch on it exactly. It must have cost them a hefty sum back in the day when they saved up for it. Must have been at least fifty years ago, maybe sixty or more, as it's been around as long as I can remember, and all my siblings (who are all at least a decade older) remember it as part of the fixtures and fittings too. Sam held the doors for me to bring it in this afternoon after I picked him up from school.

I'll confound Morrissey and go back again next week, this time probably for the last time.

Waiting In

2011-11-21T07:41:00.000Z

It's Monday morning, and dawn is creeping across the view out of my living room. The clouds are illuminated a deep shade of crimson. I'm up, and dressed, and waiting for deliveries.

I've been spending my way out of my personal recession. Not going crazy and buying all manner of things that I don't need, that would be silly. No, I've been spending what money I have to pay for things now, in November, that don't necessarily need to be bought or paid for until December or even after that. Hand over the money now, in case there isn't any to hand over when I am asked for it.

For example, the ex asked for £12 for Sam's school photos. That's reasonable of course, but I handed over £100, which should keep me in credit with Sam's "running costs" for many months to come. And keep the ex onside and amenable.

The reason I'm waiting in today is to take delivery of Sam's Christmas presents - the ones that Santa will be bringing. Sam wrote his letter to Mister Claus last weekend, and I noted its contents before we posted it together on Wednesday evening. Armed with this insider knowledge I attacked the Internet, found the best prices for the toys, ordered them, and arranged delivery - all for Monday 21 November. OK, delivery times are quoted between 0700 to 1700, but when you're an out of work ne'er do well with nothing else to do it doesn't have much of a negative impact on your day. By tonight Sam's toys will be here, and paid for. I feel slightly smug.

I was very surprised by how much money can be saved by spending an hour or two comparing prices online. With a special offer here, and a discount code there you can save yourself a substantial sum. I'll be doing this again!

Finally, it's being reported that today is the day when the UK will spend more on Internet shopping than any other day through the year. Guess I'm just ahead of my time.

I Didn't Get Up Until....

2011-11-20T12:38:00.000Z

....eleven o'clock.

You have to say, and I have to admit, that eleven o'clock is Very Late Indeed. I don't feel guilty, there's nothing to get up for today, particularly. I'm assuming that lots of wakeful nights have caught up all in one go and shut my system down until nearly noon in an attempt to shove all the lost sleep back in in one fell swoop.

What's on the cards today, after the cards from yesterday? More cards I reckon. I also need to sort out some more things to list of on Ebay, recently collected from Sleaford, earmarked for me and none of the other siblings, and maybe coming at a very opportune time. The petrol light came on in the car on Monday and, I assume, would still light up if I started the engine.

So if you know anybody who would like a plastic Smurfs' house in the shape of a toadstool, a much smaller house with a green roof, or indeed about one hundred little plastic Smurf figures (the sort that were once handed out at garages), do let me know. OIRO £175.

Time To Make Haste - Post Haste!

2011-11-19T11:51:00.000Z

Meaning that it's time I find myself this year's Christmas cards and a bunch of stamps, and get cracking!

With a lazy weekend like this one happening all around me, it's the perfect opportunity. I'll need to rob Peter to pay Paul, a bit (borrow against December's money, it'll be fine), but it's an annual treat that I enjoy. Means and opportunity = go for it!

First of all I'm updating our Christmas card list. Copy and paste last year's so nobody is forgotten, then add and remove if appropriate. It's sad to remove just one half of a couple, when they've broken up. But I've no qualms in removing names of people who I honestly don't want to send a warm festive wish to any more. It means that people who find a card from Sam and me on the doormat really do mean something to us - and that's probably how it's meant to work I think?

Writing Christmas cards while watching an old film on the telly. The serene nature of the weekend continues.

And Furthermore....

2011-11-18T21:23:00.001Z

Reflecting a moment on my Chinese takeaway blog....

Yes, I had money left for it, on a Friday. Good work me, well done. But that feels like it's not even the half of it. I feel strangely calm and content.

I had a nice long chat with Sam earlier, he's fine, had a good week, and loves me. I met friends at the Woolpack, where Old Bob bought me orange juice in return for me managing his ongoing search for love online. Female company and attention feels nice.

I did also spend five hours today online completing job forms, and emailing prospective employers, so that felt like a good shift. I have an interview next Tuesday, albeit "just" for care work.

So it's Friday night, I'm full, happy, kinda sleepy, and all's good. Most peculiar.

Later edit....how would it be better? If Sam was tucked up asleep in the next room ready for fun and adventure tomorrow, and the female company I mentioned was snuggled up here on the settee with me now.

Chinese Takeaway!

2011-11-18T21:09:00.000Z

Oh, how decadent and irresponsible. I ate Chinese takeaway for tea.

It cost nearly a tenner for an absolute Mount Fuji of delicious food. Hold on, that's in Japan. It cost nearly a tenner for an absolute Mount Everest of delicious food. Ha!

Duck, prawns, rice, prawn crackers! Fabulous. Oh it felt so, so naughty....

Having enough money left on a non-Sam Friday for such a treat is a very enjoyable side-effect of sobriety.

Lift That Nan, Tote That Grandad

2011-11-18T07:33:00.000Z

Time for the next level of applications....

Yesterday I started making applications to work in care homes looking after old people. It's work I have steadfastly avoided going for so far, not because it's beneath me, just simply that I don't want to do it. But needs must. The first forms were completed and returned by hand. I'll do more today.

The prospect of changing poohey pyjamas or spoon-feeding senior citizens is less than appealing. There may be a plus side though - the working hours.

I've spoken with two friends in the biz, and it seems that care homes are taking on lots of staff these days, especially for the less sociable shifts. But those are the shifts that attract me the most. I'd have no problem completing three 12-hour nights each week, for a start - that's 36 hours paid work in one block. Add in the seemingly standard "and every other weekend" (EOW) and that would be well over 40 hours a week. For working four days/nights. Even at minimum wage (also, by the look of it, standard) that will pay the bills.

EOW will fit in very well with Sam and me. If EOW consists of, say, two shifts, that would bump up the weekly hours, and the wage packet, further.

Yesterday I created a little Excel sheet to show instantly the monthly income from variable hours and pay rates. 27 hours a week will cover my least costly months in the next year, exactly. There are more expensive months when car tax, MOT, etc have to be paid, and that doesn't include any food, petrol, or other living costs, just bills. But it's a good incentive to get into work that I don't fancy doing.

So, as much as the work itself isn't tempting, the hours definitely are. How hard can it be?

Waiting At The Council Is Soul Destroying

2011-11-15T17:50:00.000Z

You have to takea ticket when you arrive - mine was number 114.

Currently being served was number 99.

Man alive, it's a depressing place to be. Lots of....how to say....less "contributing" members of the community sitting slack-jawed, swigging cheap energy drinks, feeding babies sporting blingy jewellery and ear-rings. I felt out of place but I am One Of Them at the moment. I only had to wait fifteen minutes though.

I returned home armed with a ream of forms to complete, and several web addresses to visit to register for various schemes and services.

A broadly similar scene happened at the job centre, but without the ticket allocation.

Half Past Six - And Off To The Job Centre

2011-11-14T07:32:00.000Z

I nearly cracked it today - I went to be at a reasonable time and managed to get my feet out of bed and the kettle on at half past six. That's progress!

My aim is to be walking into town at nine. First stop "the Job Centre", or whatever branded name it has above the door this week. I don't want benefits - I'm not entitled to them due to my huuuge RAF pension - but I would be grateful if my National Insurance stamp was covered for the short period that I will be unemployed (hopefully). Having just said that I don't "want" benefits, on the last occasions I have accessed Job Centre services I have had to complete benefits claims forms in order to register as a customer (and subsequently received outraged "you greedy bugger" letters). All I want is for them to say "Yes, this job may be suitable for you".

If it turns out that I am entitled to some financial help at the moment I will grab it with both hands. And not feel guilty about it.

While in town I plan to visit the council too, to ask about housing. With no new job I will be unable to pay my rent within a matter of months, so I want to find out what my chances are of discounted, or even free housing. I'm rather pessimistic about what I am likely to hear.

Remember Remember, The Thirteenth Of November

2011-11-13T19:57:00.000Z

This year we attended remembrance at Tower gardens in King's Lynn. There was a large crowd of folk paying respects, and the people in uniform were smart and impressive.

As usual I sneaked a few tears out when the Last Post played, and Sam caught me this time when he turned round for some reason at the wrong moment. It doesn't matter, I've told him in times gone by that his Dad leaks now and then.

We were both Incredibly tired all weekend. Sam was up until half past eleven the night before I picked him up, and was in no fit state for much through the weekend. Same here though, with sleep seemingly a thing of the past. Sam was awarded his second red stripe at his martial arts' promotion ceremony, and we generally zombied our way through the two days.

Sam's now been returned where I wish he didn't have to go, my bath is run and ready (the position of Official 2-Sox Back Scrubber is still vacant), and a new week of unemployed shenanigans looms.

Encore L'Amour

2011-11-09T00:06:00.000Z

According to Henry Finck, by Victorian times every nation had developed their own remedy for a broken heart. "The Spaniards by stabbing the girl who broke it; the Italians by annihilating the rival; the Germans by soaking the fragments in Rhine wine; the Englishmen by a change of air....

....in the end they all follow the Frenchmen who, on the day following the catastrophe, casts his eyes about for a new charmer; or, if they do not, but like a snail withdraw into their shells for the rest of their life, abusing all women as heartless - they are bigger fools than they look."

Well said Finck-y boy! Will I allow past lows shade my entire future opinion of womanhood? No Fincking Way!

Women are beautiful. They are soft, and have gentle ways. Their voices are quieter. So why shouldn't I enjoy women and their womanly ways? That would be silly at best, fucking stupid more realistically.

I am forty three years old. What age of woman is a wrong age? Under sixteen, by law, is obviously wrong. Any age, if the woman is no longer alive, is also out. Would "most people" think five years either way would be the norm? Or ten years? Ten years would set the range at 33 to 53. Also a ten year gap, at 43, doesn't seem too much, whereas a ten year gap when one is, say, 21, could be obscene. What about more than ten years? Twenty? Is that acceptable, either older or younger? Could I see myself with a 63-year-old lady? Or a 23-year-old?

Numbers-wise I actually don't care at all. Other people might care on my behalf. Or the lady may be uncomfortable if the gap is too great? I am old enough to not let it bother me what others think.

I feel that an older lady is preferable for me now. Younger women seem, well, young; and immature if too much younger. Those of a similar age are more often than not completely screwed up by recently finished relationships, full of bitterness and agendas, and "wanting it all". So a little, or a lot, older may be best.

Having said that you can expect me to be publishing pictures of me and Jazmin (22) out wakeboarding on this blog soon. Goodnight lovely people.

Early Night - Sort It Out!

2011-11-07T17:02:00.000Z

It's time for action!

I've been tired since I dried out, as you know. I keep paying lip service to sorting out my sleep but not actually Doing A Damned Thing About It.

Tonight I hit the sack at ten o'clock on the dot. And in the morning I will leap out of bed, bright-eyed and bushy-what-knotted at the hour of six. Definitely. Maybe.

Something must be done!

Spots, Bangs, Chops....And More Chops

2011-11-06T14:10:00.000Z

Spots! The chickenpox was as spotty as you'd expect. And surprisingly the ex sent Sam here for some care and attention. I got that one wrong didn't I (although maybe it dawned on her that not to "use" me when it was a win-win solution would look too daft). So I collected Sam on Thursday morning.

He was well past the poorly phase though, and we had, simply put, two days of fun. In my role as doctor I just made sure he had enough to eat, plenty to drink, and cream on his itchy areas when he needed it, which was not very often.

Scalextric was deployed, and in the newly spacious living room we had a ball with it. I've said before that I love the nostalgic smell of frazzled electric motors, and we might have accidentally held the rear wheels up a couple of times to make burnout tyre marks on the track....

We also raced each other on the Wii, and it seems that we are evenly matched at Fifa10 if Sam plays with a very good team and I have a bunch of donkeys. All in all as fabulous a couple of days of recuperation as you could have.

Bangs! On Friday we ventured out to the council-provided fireworks display in the park over the railway lines - "Fawkes In The Walks"! It was spectacular. The whole park was thronged with families, KLFM had their little stage show going on, and there were all the fairground rides and food stalls you could wish for. It's a good job it was a free display as we had just £7 in our kitty. We decided to blow £6 of it on a ride on the Crazy Frog - and as so often happens, karma looked after us and made the thing break down just before the ride was over - we were given our money back! The fireworks themselves were fabulous, the display lasted for almost twenty minutes and I was genuinely awestruck. Well done Lynn council!

Chops! As in the martial arts variety - hai-yaaa and all that. I took Sam back to the ex on Saturday morning, but for some reason she'd asked if I could take him to his kuk sool won grading test this morning. Of course I could - not sure why they couldn't though, as she, her boyfriend, the boyfriend's son and Sam are all in Lynn this weekend. Still, I don't particularly give a rat's ass, it was extra Sam And Dad time. Sam was being tested to see if he has progressed enough to have earned his second red stripe to go on his blue belt; the next step will be a red belt proper. And the good news is that he passed, hoorah, well done son! The promotion ceremony is next Saturday, email me if you want to come and watch....

More Chops! Sunday dinner - pork chops. And brussels sprouts. Followed by a snooze on the settee. Luvverley.

Bring Out Yer Dead!

2011-11-01T11:42:00.000Z

"Bring out your dead!"

I wonder if I'll have to walk around shouting that if I am successful with my job application with the funeral director in Wisbech?

I've applied for another eight jobs so far today. Including, amongst others, van driver, meter reader, charity worker, and the funeral director thing. It's now nearly noon and the day is whizzing by too quickly. There is no sign of progress in any direction.

I "really" need a job.

Chickenpox

2011-10-31T09:58:00.000Z

The boy has the pox!

Chickenpox, that is. I'm quite surprised, as we looked up the illness on the web yesterday, together, and worked our way through the list of symptoms. Sam said yes to feeling slightly unwell, we knew he was running a high temperature, but there was no headache, he had just demolished a huge Sunday dinner, and he had just two spots which we thought were bramble prickles from when he'd retrieved the football from the railway embankment earlier.

There are more spots now, and the nurse has confirmed the diagnosis.

Last night I asked the ex how Sam was with the prospect of chickenpox, and she said he was OK in himself but disappointed about school - "yeah, right" I thought to myself, "I bloody bet he is!" But she was adamant. This morning I called to find out the latest and she said "he has to have a week off school" and in the background was a loud and lively "WOOHOO!"

Let's face it, the chance of a free week off school, watching TV and being looked after is never going to disappoint any child.

Well, things could be worse - I am able to provide free for childcare all week except Wednesday, which is booked for job stuff and medical stuff. My other arrangements for the week can probably be re-jigged. Free, easy childcare, a working mum's dream! I don't expect to be asked to help though, you know what she's like. She'll instead create a drama, make a whirlwind of unfortunate circumstances around herself, and use the situation to engender sympathy for herself. That's my prediction.

The main point is that Sam is sounding full of beans and is obviously past the worst of it. When the spots pop out, chickenpox has done its worst.

On a separate note, it's now four weeks since I drank alcohol, and it's bloody hard. I really fancy a pint. Guess I'll be popping in to Sainsbury's for some alcohol-free beer again today.

Gettin' Paid Baby!

2011-10-30T19:13:00.000Z

The postman brought good news yesterday - a pay statement from my most recent employers!

I submitted an expenses form after I departed, claiming for a training trip to Blackburn and for the trip to the dismissal hearing. They've paid me. We can eat for another week!

I just took Sam back so I'm a bit fed-up. I am a LOT knackered as well. The clocks went back, and for the first time in his life Sam did the winding back of the clock hands around the flat. He liked it, it's a great novelty. He started going to bed at nine last night, and by the time he actually laid down it was eight, magic! He crash-landed in my bed at ten to three in the morning following a bad dream about falling off a ride at Alton Towers (he's never been there) and contentedly took up 90% of the room for the rest of the night. Good sleep for junior, rubbish for the old man - not that I mind, I would gladly repeat that every night if it was possible.

Sam was off colour over the weekend, especially on Saturday, with a high temperature, little appetite, and general lethargy. Very unusual. To top off his unhealthy weekend one of his teeth fell out after Sunday dinner - it's now, hopefully, nestled under a pillow at the ex's house ready to be sold for a few bob.

I'm planning a quiet night in and early to bed. With a side order of flirting, natch.

Long Weekend Ahoy!

2011-10-27T10:04:00.000+01:00

I'm picking Sam up later this afternoon, for a long weekend.

It's half term you see, and I would have liked Sam to be here more but today something else is going on as well. I'm into hospital soon for a ton of tests in the cardiology unit, which go on through the day. Best to get them all done on one day you see, that just means one disrupted day, not three or four. And then I will pick Sam up before tea time.

The ex has her own view of this, of course. Her correspondence about my time with Sam this week has been heavily loaded with accusation that I am avoiding having him here (well, in the most basic way, I am, but for "quite" valid reasons), and that I am trying to avoid some parental responsibility.

Since she has been unable to read this blog she has no knowledge of what I am doing, feeling, planning, etc, except anything I tell her. Which is very little - my life is none of her business. So hearing about my hospital tests she obviously doesn't even believe that they're happening. Hey ho.

She then had a thinly disguised attack on me for not telling Sam about any of the medical stuff that's going on. I haven't replied to her except to confirm that Sam doesn't know anything yet. You see, I haven't told anybody except Old Bob about it. I don't want to tell family, friends, and especially Sam, that I have to undergo two days worth of tests in hospital to find out if there is anything seriously wrong with me. If I did that then there are dozens of people worrying and fretting about the situation - as it is there's just me. No point causing any alarm when there may be nothing to be alarmed about. If it turns out that I'm ill THEN I can tell people. But I don't think that will be the case.

In her charming manner the ex has confused needing to know something with wanting to know something. I'll tell her when I think she needs to know. Anything else is just gossip for her.

Better go, I'm due in at half past ten. Wish me luck!

Half Past Six!

2011-10-25T06:50:00.000+01:00

I'm up! Half past six is not too bad for a start.

I can get up and go, but I prefer to get up and go slowly. At least ninety minutes calmness, with a lot of tea, is my chosen start to the day. A pleasant slice of personal time before the day begins.

I'll add more later, when something has actually happened today. For now I am going to feed the birds.

Faggots

2011-10-24T18:22:00.002+01:00

A nice pair of big meaty balls for tea, served with a healthy portion of chips and beans. A proper tea!

I was late up today, didn't leave my bed until nine o'clock. This is obviously not good enough, half the bloody day is already gone by then. I will make more attempts to shift my ass at six from now on, getting up late is lazy and rather crap. And it won't be acceptable when I start work again.

And when that will be, I don't know. Today I've applied for a good job that I really would like to do, and four other McJobs that will pay me money. Tomorrow I will attack the job market again, it's the only way for me to go.

I'm also visiting Sleaford, and Mum and their old house tomorrow. I will go bearing gifts (sausages and winkles) which will be very gratefully accepted, and I shall return with The Table and hopefully two small bookcases.

"The Table" being the very table on which I ate most of my meals during my childhood. It was my parents' pride and joy, a cherished item within their marriage and home, and now it will be travelling down the A17 to fulfil the same role for me. I always remember it as being huge, almost big enough to play football on - the reality of adulthood shows it to be just a small-ish, plain, well polished dining table. It is big enough to (just) fit a Subbuteo pitch on....Sam will enjoy using it as a toy soldier battlefield I suspect.

Three Hours Of Housework

2011-10-23T12:05:00.000+01:00

OK, tally ho chaps! Help yourselves, there's no fighter escort!

I'm diving out of the sun and headlong into the housework at noon, and I'mgoing to work straight through to three; there is no shortage of jobs to pick from. Finish de-cluttering the living room. Mail and filing and shredding and ripping. Windows. Those are the must-dos. Weighing up if we'll be able to move the furniture around comes next. Then as many other jobs as I can fit in.

By the way, if you happen to have a picture frame going spare, measuring 42 x 34cm, or another with dimensions 35 x 20 cm, I can find them a loving home....

I've discovered an enjoyable TV show called Man V Food, in which an amenable big-boned American called Adam travels around the USA attempting to eat the largest, unhealthiest meals produced in each city. It's Rate My Sausage taken to an incredible level, and is great entertainment if you're a greedy-guts like me. The star of the show has just been in Pittsburg where he won a bumper sticker for devouring six chicken wings at the Quaker & Lube Diner. So what? These were their Atomic Wings, and the six of them contained as many scoville units as 240 whole jalapeno peppers. Ouch.

In the same show he also visited the original Primanti Brothers sandwich shop (http://www.primantibros.com/). Oh, yum yum yum. The boy has a great job.

Flowers & Fish & Fancy Footwear

2011-10-21T10:57:00.000+01:00

Earlier in the week I bought a bunch of cheap flowers. They only cost a couple of pounds. Thing is, it's the first time I've had flowers in the flat for maybe two years, maybe even longer, and that's quite sad. Flowers look lovely, and happy, and they cheer me up. They also make me feel more "normal" and more a part of the human race - normal people make their homes look nice don't they? They're a bit past it now so I'll pick up some more later on when I go shopping.

So yes, I'm a bloke who likes flowers. I like any flowers, and I'm not snobby if they are "just from the garage", or supermarket. I don't know for sure, but I would guess that 95% of women who dismiss cheap flowers as tacky are never given any anyway. Actually, that may be 95% of ALL women, full stop, who never receive flowers. Of those 95% (again, I don't "know") I should think that the vast majority would absolutely love to be given some blooms, whether they cost £2 or £50. If you want to score easy brownie points with me, give me some white flowers!

The flowers look nice. But it's the fact that I've gone to the trouble of buying them in the first place that has got me thinking. It's nineteen days since I had alcohol now - maybe I'm becoming more of the person I was years ago and less of the alcoholic of recent years? Lots of years!

Yesterday I also fed the birds for the first time in ages, AND noted down which species visited the gardens. The last updates to That list were over a year ago. Food for thought. On the subject of food, I had sprats for breakfast today, delicious, and ridiculously cheap. 51p for about a quarter of a kilogram of the little buggers.

And so to footwear. I'm heading into town today to find some shoes suitable for the Sport Relief mile, which Sam and I will be running next March, in Norwich. See you on the start line.

Two Cancellations And A Major World News Story!

2011-10-20T15:35:00.000+01:00

Weird sort of a day.

I'd arranged to meet two friends but both cancelled, one due to a school harvest festival, the other for reasons unknown. Never mind. There will be other times fur fun and frolics. Instead I am going to continue making the flat shipshape, writing a couple of letters - using paper and a pen (!) - and cooking up a nice curry with leftover pork loin.

Which sort of leads me to the Major World News Story that I've just become aware of? Morrisons' Value Curry sauce has gone up to 19p a jar, from 9p! It's fecking scandalous, a 111% overnight increase. Outrageous, and I am going to complain.

Oh, some knob called Gaddafi's dead too.

Rent Rise!

2011-10-19T09:33:00.000+01:00

I'm shocked and quite upset - the landlord is putting my rent up by £25 a month! It went up £25 a month last year too.

To add insult to injury the letting agent is demanding £125 "admin fee", which covers photocopying half a dozen sheets of paper. Outrageous.

I've been a very good tenant for six years, causing no problems along the way - the kind of tenant that landlords dream of in fact. Six years of occupancy in which the agent and landlord have not had to advertise the property, clean it, do anything to it except deal with routine, very occasional, breakdowns.

I'm going to have to seriously consider moving out, sadly.

Stone Roses!

2011-10-19T05:34:00.001+01:00

Astonishing news - The Stone Roses are getting back together!

I am, frankly, completely over-excited at the prospect - this band were the shining lights of the "time of my life". The late eighties/early nineties Madchester era were the best of times that I have lived in, and I participated with gusto in all aspects of that all too brief movement. I never did try ecstasy though - I wish I had, just to see what it was like.

The Stone Roses were so magnificently cool, I and thousands of others wanted to be one of them. I copied their clothes (huge baggy jeans natch, my Easy's had 24 inch bottoms on 'em), their language, even the "dancing" of Ian Brown though god knows he wasn't much of a dancer. He wasn't much of a singer either, truth be told, but that all added to the force of nature that we felt we were part of. The bands, Roses at the forefront, were made up of common kids like us who were brought up in council houses, and went to football.

I doubt that I'll be lucky enough to obtain tickets for The Stone Roses' shows. But I have seen them once before. "Seen" is actually not entirely accurate - I allegedly attended their Spike Island show, but I can't remember much about that weekend, and nothing at all about the gig itself. I woke up on Runcorn railway station, the day after.

Please please please give me the tickets! It's that or Steps: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-15333782

Perky!

2011-10-18T08:13:00.000+01:00

I was sooo tired last night. I still haven't really sorted out my sleeping routine since being in hospital.

Hospital, incidentally, was two weeks ago, yesterday. It seems longer since I spent the day feeling mortally terrified lying among the poorly people, but that scare has done me good so far....I haven't touched a drink since then and feel much better for it. If only I could start enjoying some regular, predictable sleep I'd be sorted. My medical interactions haven't finished though, I have to undergo blood tests on Thursday and also have to have a heart monitoring tape for five days, early next month. Inconvenient but worthwhile doing I suppose.

Health-wise I am feeling pretty good.

I do, however, need work. I've applied here and there, have registered at agencies, but so far no luck. It will come, I am too brilliant to be overlooked for very long. He said, trying to tempt fate.

In the extremely short term future, I am taking a neighbour to the doctor today, who can hardly walk (the neighbour, not the doctor), waiting in to welcome an electrician this afternoon to hopefully mend the flat's heating, going to watch Sam's school cross country in the park tomorrow morning (come along and share some soup if you like), and then the blood tests on Thursday. How did I fit anything in when I was employed?

Hard Working Sam

2011-10-14T10:11:00.000+01:00

On Thursday I visited school for Parents Evening, to chat with Sam's teacher. I was very impressed with his work and his effort.

He seems to have come on such a lot in the last year or so, workwise; this is obvious from his workbooks, which you can read before your appointment. His writing is not brilliant, his spelling is patchy, but those things will come into place with practice and age. Quite often his spelling is wrong because he is using wondefully descriptive words that are somewhat ahead of his age. His application was echoed by his teacher, who tells me that he seems to have realised what he's meant to be doing in school, and is trying very hard.

As long as he tries hard, his Dad will be happy with him. If his efforts produce good results, even better. Well done little dude.

We have a long weekend together. His mum and her boyfriend are away somewhere flying toy planes on Sunday, so Sam is here until Monday, when I'll take him into school. It's most excellent. Sam's school work has earned him a reward, I'll let him decide exactly what that is.

Slipping Days

2011-10-12T08:56:00.000+01:00

Are humans nocturnal?

I wonder if we're a species of animal that has historically been awake at night and slept during the day?

You see, in the last ten alcohol free days my waking moments have slipped back into the night. Insomnia is a consequence of giving up alcohol, and wow, is it getting a grip on me!

I've been aiming to go to bed at ten, actually going about eleven, and lying awake until two, or later. Also I've been aiming to get up at six, but been waaay too tired to do so, and rising at nine. Is that "just what happens" when we don't have a rigid framework to live our lives in - such as a job, for example?

Today I determined to get up at six no matter how exhausted I felt - I made it at quarter past seven! Now I am heading into town, first to the library to print more CVs, then on to some employment agencies. "Gizza job". Call me Yosser Two-Sox.

Oh, Sam's mum is behaving like an idiot again.

My Bubblegoose Is Plumped And Perky!

2011-10-10T01:11:00.000+01:00

I have got a twinkle in my eye this Sunday night.

Eager to compare and contrast tomorrow (well, now it's "this") morning with last Monday morning I decided a little cardio exercise was in order. So I went to Wisbech for a nice cup of tea with a friend. We shall see if I wake up terrified that I'm about to die.

Had a really fun drive there and back too. Sam's education has been continuing, with him hearing a song all about cooking dessert - Chocolate Salty Balls by Chef. On the same CD I have discovered a fantastic song called Bubblegoose by Wyclef Jean, it is sooo catchy, and on this album Wyclef is joined on vocals by Stan and Cartman, I drove back repeating the track and singing along at the top of my voice - and I can't remember the last time THAT happened.

Sunday was otherwise quiet. Pork loin for dinner, and I even managed perfect crackling for once. Crumble and ice cream for pud.

And That is the end of my quiet week of recovery.

Saturday Night, And Going Nowhere

2011-10-08T20:19:00.000+01:00

The candles are lit, the bath is run, and tea was delicious....

It's another wild Saturday night in.

I went to watch King's Lynn beat Kempston earlier, and it were freezing. They won 3-0 and the third goal could not have been bettered by Barcelona. And it was scored by a complete pitbull of a player.

No alcohol since Sunday - doesn't sound much bit it's a big deal for me! And I'm now starting disulfiram to help. Wild times.

Last Of The Lamb....

2011-10-07T08:26:00.001+01:00

Quite disappointed - I'm about to eat the last of the garlic(k)y lamb pot roast that I've been enjoying for the last fay or three.

So what to eat next?

I'm intending to rest until Monday, so I need four days-worth of food. Hmmm. Carte blanche a la Maison Deux-Soques.

Any suggestions? I'm planning a big Sunday dinner for one, and would like to try something new, or unusual, or new and unusual.

On The Bright Side

2011-10-05T10:58:00.000+01:00

On Monday I had a lot of time sitting around doing nothing.

I have restarted Ulysses....again....and got further in one day than I ever have before. It's a bloody slog though. Interesting but hard work, a book I've intended to read since school.

Leopold Bloom is currently wandering around after lunch, working out where to write his reply to his fancy woman. What happens next? Will he cough? Will he see another tram drive by?

On a more realistic note, today I am "resting" again. "Resting" including "withdrawing". It's unpleasant, but it's partly self-inflicted so I need to get on with it and not moan too much. So far the common symptoms are all having a go at me, with insomnia and throbbing headaches really running riot.

In a minute I am walking to the shop to buy hotdogs and rolls....it's Wednesday so I'm taking Sam to his martial arts after school, and we'll have a quick snack before we go. Thank god for Sam.

A Grand Day Out - At Hospital

2011-10-04T12:49:00.000+01:00

Monday was bad. Bad.

I've written about palpitations recently, and how they occur in times of anxiety, and also how I was fairly well used to them. Well things took a turn for the worse yesterday.

I set the alarm for six on Monday morning so I could be up and about and on the search for work - but when six came round the first thing I noticed was my heartbeat racing and completely irregular. My pulse is usually around 60 to 65, but it was around the 100 mark, with no regularity at all. I was pretty scared.

I called NHS Direct in the hope that they'd say "Don't worry", but they didn't. They asked when my doctor's surgery opened, and when I told them it wasn't for another hour and a half they said I ought to go to A&E, "just in case".

So I drove to the hospital, waited a while, then was processed (asked a lot of questions) into A&E. I was there for four hours and all that happened was that a doctor asked me the same questions again, and took blood samples. And I was moved from the cubicle into a corridor. Oh, I also had blood pressure checked and ECGs done a couple of times. After four hours the doctor came back.

At last, home time! No! Doc told me that I had to have a second set of blood tests done, twelve hours after I noticed symptoms - SIX IN THE EVENING! Bollocks! I was shipped away from A&E to the Medical Assessment Unit, a holding ward for all cases between stubbed toes to rabies (as far as I could make out). I arrived a little after noon and was just in time for some dinner - lasagne! It wasn't fantastic, but it wasn't terrible either....not so sure about the plastic mashed potato though.

Spot on six o'clock a phlebotomist took the second set of blood. Within an hour I would be told if I could go home, and more importantly if there was any damage to my heart....

At half past nine a nurse told me that there was good news, my heart was in good nick, and I could go home. I left at ten.

At five past ten I found a hospital parking ticket on my car.

Now, the good news is that I am still alive and this seems like it was some one-off occurrence. The doctor seemed to think that as I have a history of palpitations, and with the recent job loss, being dumped by Nikki, and thinking I was going blind in one eye, the stress level has been way too much. It does sound like a shit few weeks when it's written down.

I spent the day feeling utterly terrified, and wondering if I'd ever see Sam again. I shed a few sneaky tears a few times. It's certainly been some huge kick up the ass.

Job hunting will have to wait until next week. My plan for this week is to do little, be good.

Thanks....We Don't Need You Tomorrow

2011-09-29T21:38:00.000+01:00

That was a brief encounter.

The job at the fridge factory has been and gone. On the way out of the factory on Monday I, and all the other temps, were told we wouldn't be needed tomorrow.

Shocking? Not in this day and age. Temps are definitely used as cheap and easily disposable labour. Almost slave labour, although that's an emotive label. "We have to produce 5% more this week to satisfy the company owners in Italy? Get temps in". Then fuck them off when the work is done.

That's not a left wing daydream, that is what is happening in England. I'm living proof.

Oh, I am not feeling sorry for myself. Life is turbulent, and sometimes we get thrown in an unwanted direction. I am maybe, unless I find work, three months from eviction.

Do NOT Watch TV

2011-09-24T23:04:00.000+01:00

Having a great, relaxed day.

Then I see that there's War Of The Worlds, the remake, on TV. I HAVE to watch.

I have to watch because it's the film that me and Helen (Charming Young Single Mum) watched the first time she came here to the flat. She was scared and needed cuddling. I was scared too, don't do scary stuff.

BAD timing. A reminder of very happy days.

The film has very scary moments. Which are bringing up very real memories. Each scare evokes Helen's jumping, then laughing. It was light outside when we watched it, so it musy have been August or September.

So. I now want to go back to when CYSM and me were getting to know each other, and eventually love each other. Can't happen because she is dead. Yet I am stuck in an emotional shithole, being led on and then fucked off by women I really like. None of it makes any sense. Women really do fuck you up. And make out that it's your fault.

Yes, it's my fault that I was in the Falkland Islands when Wife Number One started fucking around.

And yes, it was my fault that I was I The Gulf and Canafa when Wife Number Two started fucking around.

Mea culpa. What a dickhead.

It's probably my fault too, that I have been doing "something" that has changed a lovely young lady's opinion of me from "I want to kiss you and be with you" to "I am trying again with the unreliable bastard that had a ten year affair behind my back". Yes, I was, probably, responsible for that affair! Every-fucking-thing is my fault.

It's little wonder that I have such low regard for females is it. They've fucked me up.

Temporary, passing, relationships are probably all I am capable of. And want. I don't want to let a woman in. I cettainly don't want a woman around me all the time. What a fucking pain in the arse that is.

Women! You can do just ONE thing I can't do for myself.

Guess Who's Back?

2011-09-23T16:45:00.000+01:00

It's a weekend for tea drinking methinks.

I have a surprisingly clear, sharp mind right now. Two days of hermitude (if that's a word) have helped clean out some of the crap from my brain. A bathful of lager helped too. I feel...not too bad. And I seem to look a little better than usual too (yeah, I know, save the wisecracks):

I have been away from work all week but Monday. The pain was excruciating, but almost topped by my feeling of disgust that I was letting Old Bob down when he'd gone out on a limb to get me the job. The eyedrops have been working in the last 18 hours and the pain level is down greatly - therefore no more throwing up painkillers and food. Man, I am starving.

Plans for the weekend involve....fun. Tea drinking to the fore. But tonight - roast chicken!

As Monty Python's Knights Say - Run Away!

2011-09-21T08:51:00.000+01:00

Enough's enough, I'm off!

I am giving up on real life for a little while and disappearing. Losing the job and being dumped by Nikki were two huge setbacks that I probably glossed over at the time, but now the reality of it is sinking in and taking its toll. I feel - make that Know - that my mental health is not where it should be right now.

The eye infection - or rather the panic before I knew it was "just" an infection - gave me a terrifying forty eight hours, and a subsequent three week course of eyedrops, which prevent driving for three hours after each dose. And for the first week, it's four times a day.

And being completely and utterly led on by a young lady who I really like was just the straw that broke the shepherd's delight. She's decided to try again with the husband who had a ten year affair when they were together. Odd choice.

So, I'm checking out.

Eye Trouble

2011-09-20T06:34:00.002+01:00

This morning I'm really rather worried.

The achey eye of the last day or two is now a sharply painful eye, constantly streaming water. I can see little but a blur with it.

Painkillers have had no effect. I've had to raise a white flag for work today too. I'll try to get an emergency doctor's visit, but what if I can't? What do you do these days if all the doctors are fully booked?

My imagination has been running riot of course, with lots of worst case scenarios popping up. Cancer? Blindness? I can't really think of anything else.

Update @ 1030 - went to the docs, they've made a priority appointment for me at hospital this afternoon.

Update @ 1822 - I was in the hospital for two hours. I had stuff squirted in my eye, which stung like buggery (trust me). I had very intense lights shone into my right eye. That hurt too. But it's very, very, happy news.

I have an acute eye infection. I am not going to lose the sight in my eye, nor is there any link to cancer. I am utterly relieved, and knackered. I am going back to work in the morning.

I am to administer powerful eye drops. Four times a day for a week, then twice a day for a week, then once. I am not allowed to drive for three hours after each dose. I told the job agency, in case the factory weren't happy with having, in effect, a one-eyed man on the shopfloor. Delightfully the team leader has said it's fine, and if necessary I should just stay off the floor while the eyedrops are having their worst effect. How's about that!?

Frankly I am delighted.

Sex And Beer And Sausage Rolls

2011-09-19T17:49:00.000+01:00

An evening of selfish indulgence beckons.

I bloody need it. After the last few traumatic weeks I am deffo run down and fraying round the edges.

Today my right eye is very painful - it feels as if I've had a direct hit from a football or a punch, but I haven't. I managed to avoid injury during football with Sam all weekend, possibly a first! Focussing is very difficult, and my vision is extremely blurred. It's unnerving. If it continues for a day or two I'll make an appointment.

Mind you, what is it about trying to see your OWN regular doctor these days? I made one with my bloke last Tuesday, and the soonest I could be fitted in was 28 September!

Anyway. Tonight it's beer, telly and lamb chops. Plus, I am currying the leftover chicken from Sunday and making stock with what's left after that. I can revel in excess when I want to. I am soaking myself in wild abandon, with a hint of domestic god-ness.

Bored Of The Downs

2011-09-18T19:15:00.000+01:00

Right I'm pissed off with the downward bits of life now. They seem to be waaaay more plentiful than the good bits. Really cannot be arsed enduring it for the foreseeable future.

Tonight is a good example.

Sam's back at the other place.

I have to go to work stupidly early in the morning, to a job I don't like and can't really do.

The petrol light is on in the car, has been since Friday, and I have £5.50 to last until Friday.

And cock all food in the fridge.

Life's fucking great eh?

Friday - At Last

2011-09-16T13:51:00.000+01:00

Holy crap, what a long week that was.

I finish at ten past twelve on Fridays while I am at the new job, which is very nice. It means I can do the weekend shopping in a leisurely fashion on the way home.

It also means, of course, that on Sam weeks I will be collecting him from school. It seems a very long time since I made my way through The Walks to the school, but it will be great. Tonight being Friday, that means TV and Takeaway.

The weekend will be our first "home" weekend since the summer holidays started back in July, so we won't be doing much. That's also partly due to having to watch the finances, but also because I want us to get back to soem good old-style Sam and Dad stuff. We might go to the pictures to see a film, but that will be about the limit of our roamings.

See you soon Little Dude!

How Depressing - Another One Bites The Dust

2011-09-14T19:46:00.000+01:00

On my way back into the flats a little earlier I saw something that really saddened me.

For the last, perhaps, four years, there's been a very young couple with a lovely little daughter also living here. The daughter was a big bump in her mum's tum when I first "met" her. That young couple have seemed to be rock solid together ever since, and the little girl has grown up a lot.

In the meantime I've had as much to do with them as I have any other neighbours here. Sam and I helped them "break into" their flat with coat hangers once when they locked themselves out. I've lent them money when they have needed food, and they repaid as soon as they could. And other things too.

Tonight the girl and an older lady who identified herself as "Nan" got out of a car driven by the girl's dad. Nan told her "Daddy is going home now, let's go and see Mummy".

Looks like they've separated for some reason, and doomed the child to a life with parents who don't live together. Just the way me and Sam's mum condemned him to the same thing.

Poor little girl, and what a shame about the couple.

Bloody Women!

2011-09-14T19:18:00.000+01:00

Womankind, you are so confusing!

Why can women not be honest, up front and not have any hidden agendas?

Tonight I am utterly confused by a woman (notwithstanding that confused at life is my default setting these days), and seem to be being played off against other people. But obliquely accused of lies and dishonesty ("everyone is lying to me"). It sucks, frankly. I insist on honesty, both ways, even if it's painful.

Grrrrr!

A Happy Accident And An Impressed Son

2011-09-13T19:41:00.000+01:00

The new job involves working from seven to four on Monday to Thursday, and until ten past twelve on Fridays. In that time we work the required thirty seven and a half hours.

Now, remember, Sam attends kuk sool won classes, and has been ferried there by a friend of his non -driving mum. The friend's son is having a break from classes and that therefore means the end of the free taxi.

My new work hours mean I can do more Dad duties, so it looks like I'll be taking Sam to Wednesday class each week (thus spending a couple of hours with him), and picking him up from school on alternate Fridays, just like we used to. It's most excellent!

Still don't like the job at all though. Sam is impressed that I am making stuff for the Olympic venues though.

Dream

2011-09-12T21:43:00.000+01:00

I did have a brilliant dream last night.

I bought a Reliant Robin, in cahoots with Smithy off of Gavin & Stacey. We had a great deal of un picking it up and wheeling it around on the front wheel like a wheelbarrow.

And then we went on a roadtrip - to a Radio One roadshow. On the way along a dual carriageway we were neck and neck with a "local" radio DJ, and were taunting him, "We've got a better car than you, and ours only has three wheels!" etc.

When we got to the roadshow we found out that the DJ was Jimmy Saville. I told Smithy, "You know what he'd like? Me to go over there and say 'uh-ee-uh-eh-uh, now then, now then' just like he says."

Smithy implored me not to, and told me not to mention his name either. I agreed.....

....walked over to Jimmy Saville.....

.....and said "uh-ee-uh-ee-uh, now then now then, who's this here then? It's JIMMY VAJAZEL!"

More Palpitations

2011-09-12T06:00:00.000+01:00

A terrible night.Awful.

I had very little sleep before clicking awake at half past three. From then on what kept me awake was palpitations. I think it must be anxiety that causes it.

I've been anxious about losing the last job, then about not having a job, and now about whether I'm up to the new job. Never happy am I! I just want today to be over, and to be back home, and lock myself away.

I should be grateful I know, plenty of people would like to be working in a factory for £6 an hour. But it's not where I thought I would be.

Pre-Match Nerves

2011-09-11T16:01:00.000+01:00

It's the day before the new job starts, and I am as anxious as an extra in Star Trek.

Will I be zapped during the first landing? Hope not. Equally I don't want to get as far as "Show me this thing that you call 'kissing'".....

Old Bob is full of enthusiasm and through his positivity I feel I can do the job. Never made fridges before, but I CAN do it. Get your head down boy, and just do the work....

It says on our fridge, in primary colour fridge magnets "IT'S ALL ABOUT SAM. WORK HARD" I will. I try to do it right all the time but usually with unfortunate results, as you probably know.

There's a young lady I rather like currently on my radar. As is always the case, I can't work out if she likes me even 10% as much. Probably not. Please tell me how to work it out?

OK. Man up. Time to get in the kitchen and spatchcock that chicken!

Downtime

2011-09-09T20:50:00.000+01:00

I am taking things slooooooow.

Unlike certain foxy chicks of my acquaintance, who have been absolutely caning it. Vomit, planking, mysterious scratches in places where scratches should not be....and I dare not offer "comfort" lest it be misinterpreted!

I have two more quiet days before I start work. I intend to spend it with some old friends, namely Mister Football, Mister Beer, Squire Telly and Mister Flirt-Butnottoomuch.

They're a dangerous bunch.

Escape!

2011-09-08T20:47:00.000+01:00

Well, I've done it. Escaped to somewhere nobody can find me.

I'll be keeping a low profile for a day or two.

Apparently Barry Teeth is working again.

Time for tea methinks. Goodnight.

I'm Full Of Appeal

2011-09-08T16:35:00.000+01:00

I just sent off my letter formally appealing against dismissal. So that's now official, and in writing.

I feel rather shaken by it, even though it was a simple one-liner of a letter, carrying a stark unambiguous message. A necessary evil really.

I feel like running away for a day or two.....maybe I'll find a cheap B&B and hide. Yes, that's what I'll do.

You Lose A Job...You Find A Job....

2011-09-07T19:20:00.000+01:00

C'est la vie.

This blog is restricted at the moment, while my appeal against dismissal goes through. After that I'll be opening it up again, and replacing all the bits I've removed.

Please do tell me, anybody, if you were able to determine the name of the company I worked for, the nature of the work, or any other details - based on what was written here. I don't think that Anybody would be able to decipher anything, which is a part of my appeal.

That, and inaccuracies in the company's version of the disciplinary hearing.

Anyhoo, I have no intention of working for them again. And I know of enough shoddy practice to have plenty of whistle-blowing fun. And I don't care as I am starting a new job on Monday.

Starting on less money, as you might expect. Within a certain time I should be earning considerably more (2k), with more holiday. And a pension scheme. And no seagulls. And no couriers-with-attitude.

So is this karma? Or luck? Or just life?

Party Time!

2011-09-02T06:30:00.000+01:00

As expected I was dismissed from work yesterday. Having to drive all the way to the company headquarters just to be told that seems a little vindictive to me.

Of course I will be appealing against the decision, through the union. But that's next week.

This weekend is the end of summer holidays and Sam and I are returning to the east coast to do some of our favourite things again, and try some new ones as well.

I will try. really try, to update Sam & Dad's Excellent Adventures every day, please feel free to follow us and comment if you like!

Palpitations!

2011-08-29T10:37:00.001+01:00

One of my least favourite things is happening again - palpitations.

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Narrowing things down is a comfort in itself. But the physical "thump thump" and discomfort when I sit or lie in certain positions is very unpleasant. There's no getting away from it, you pretty much need to take your heart with you wherever you go.

I was planning to go out and do something worthwhile today, Bank Holiday Monday. Now it's here I don't feel like doing anything except hiding away.

Down

2011-08-24T22:40:00.000+01:00

Crash!

Five great days. Finished.

We're back from Scotland, and it sucks. Work tomorrow.

How completely shit do I feel? We had a wonderful few days, but now I am feeling that I've let Sam down somehow. I don't know where or why that feeling comes from.

Rubbish.

Wee Means Small And Pish Means Wee

2011-08-22T23:01:00.001+01:00

We're halfway through our Scottish adventure. Well, a little over halfway, but hey.

No dramas so far, just a whole lot of fun.

We have had one minor inconvenience, having to move hotel from Kinross to Glenrothes because their hot water system conked out. If that's the worst thing that goes wrong I'll be happy.

Sam's having an absolute ball, and finding Scotland different and intriguing. Once or twice he's asked me to translate something that's been said. He's also loving going to sleep late. And I have no problem at all with that, because he just sleeps later in the morning, it's what the summer holidays are all about. Mind you, he did go to sleep early tonight as we have a Very late one tomorrow, probably getting back here after the Edinburgh Military Tattoo after midnight.

Right, time for the old boy - me - to get some sleep too. I've been trying to keep up to date with what we've done on the Excellent Adventures blog, feel free to take a peek.

Scotland Here We Come!

2011-08-19T09:35:00.000+01:00

News from the ex's house is that Sam is wildly excited about departing for the north today.

I am not far behind him. I'll pick him up at half past one and off we'll go. A nice added bonus is that it's Sam's Nana's birthday today so we can drop in with presents and cards on our way through, as it's on the way. Neat!

This time tomorrow Sam will be approaching the border, and his final part of Great Britain - plenty of scope for Most Excellent fun and photos over the next five days.

Magnetic

2011-08-18T21:39:00.000+01:00

O. M. F. G.

How does it work then? I know for a fact that hardly anybody reads the blog. So how come that since I posted about Nik binning me I am being swamped under a sea of hot totty?!

I am not complaining, obv, it's all extremely good for the ego. I am a minging, middle-aged, short, fat bloke after all.

There's the delightful Jane from the Ckes & Ale campsite. There's C, from Wisbech, who wants to move things on from FWB - which I don't want to. There's E who has for some reason taken a shine to me. It's odd.

Thing is, why didn't this happen when me and Nik were together? Am I subconciously giving out some kind of message? There was no barrier to either Nik or me sharing a cuppa without each other when we were together, so there's nothing different there. I'm not asking "why didn't this happen" in a regretful way, but just out of curiosity. It's interesting, and a bit strange. Surely women can't sense when a man is available can they? None of the girls I mentioned ever knew about Nik.

Did I perhaps, unknowingly, rebuff female attention? Doubt it....

Whatever is going on it is a lot of fun. What possible right have I to attract ANY kind of woman, never mind those who seem to be drawn to me now. I am utterly confused. There are millions of good looking, fit, young men out there. Still, mustn't grumble.....

There is one of these young ladies who really catches my imagination right now, Intriguing, deep, potentially troublesome.

HELP!

Busy Doing Nothing....

2011-08-18T07:02:00.001+01:00

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The time off consists of all of Friday (great) and a lot of Tuesday just gone. On Tuesday I enjoyed a nice cup of tea with a friend in Wisbech (well, four actually) and on Friday I will be preparing all our bits and pieces for our trip to Scotland.

Scotland....I can hardly wait now that it's so close. And Sam is feeling the same....he told me that he is looking forward to visiting Scotland as it means he will have visited all three countries that make up Great Britain. He's right - but I only know he's right after looking it up. We're taking the laptop and the intention is to add daily updates to http://sam-and-dad.blogspot.com/

Dundee on Saturday for football and train crash history, Stirling, Edinburgh, and the spare day to do as we see fit. Maybe we'll go to see the salmon ladder at Pitlochry. And Hairy Bob's on the way home.

I am determined to allow Sam to build happy memories of his childhood; if he looks back on this period of his life the way I do on mine then I'll feel that it's a job well done.

Carry On Camping

2011-08-15T18:02:00.000+01:00

We made it home to King's Lynn intact, despite the mainly atrocious weather, hoorah!

We were shown our pitch by the lovely lady in Reception and set up the tent quickly, including a chat with the nice cockney lady (Jane) in the neighbouring slot (what a show-off, she had a motorhome AND a caravan!). The first night under canvas, which was last Wednesday, was awful. The wind blustered and buffeted the tent, and the rain intermittently lashed down. Sam slept through the lot as usual. I was awake most of the way. But we don't let a little matter like inclement weather dictate to us, so we carried on with our plans, regardless.

There was a minor hiccup on Thursday morning when I discovered that although I'd packed the stove top, and Sam had ticked it off on the checklist (a job he absolutely loves), I had left the gas canisters at home - so no "campfire" breakfast for us! We had to settle for bacon and toast in a roadside cafe, which wasn't much of a hardship, not really.

Days out were splendid fun and lasted a very long time. We found ourselves leaving the site at about nine each day and returning after eight, at which point Sam would head out to play with the other children and I would pop into the small, neat clubroom for a pint. Very civilised indeed. Our days ended with a headtorch-lit stroll around the site, ablutions, and then I'd let Sam read and nibble on snacks until ten. He didn't always make it to that time as the sea air and non-stop days caught up with him.

I won't go on about the days too much here, I'll do that at our Excellent_Adventures blog. Suffice to say that the Lowestoft Air Festival, Pleasurewood Hills and Great Yarmouth were utterly joyous times, and we were in slightly sombre mood when we drove home on Sunday. We were completely knackered too. But what a great holiday!

And who knew that Jane and I would get on quite as well as we did....obviously a gentleman never tells the story (!) but there's an open invitation to pop back down there when Sam's not around....

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2011-08-09T19:08:00.001+01:00

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Mistrust

2011-08-08T21:02:00.000+01:00

Maybe the reason I've felt unsettled is how we separated. It wasn't "quite" as nice as I made out.

It seems I have cycled through all the early stages of loss quite quickly, and I now feel irritated, gusting angry.

It wasn't really a mutual choice. I was dumped. By text message. The modern way I suppose.

It's a shame because we had promised to give our "brave new way" a go, and if it wasn't working for either of us, to say so, and sort it out. I feel sad that Nik took on someone else, full time, and didn't feel able to tell me about the change in the status quo. I do hope that we stay in touch though, I like Nik a lot and feel protective for her.

So that's the truth of the matter.

Set Fair

2011-08-08T06:42:00.000+01:00

"Dry and bright" is the immediate weather forecast. With our first camping trip of the year imminent, that will do nicely.

It was an odd weekend in several ways, I kept suffering with plummeting tummy syndrome when I thought about Nik, but I'm not sure why. I am actually, honestly, content with the situation. In between these moments I felt oddly exhilarated at being "off the leash", although we never had any such limitations between us anyway....weird.

I didn't sleep much last night and was up at half past four. Nothing more on my mind than our camping trip and the things I need to do ahead of it. Which is pretty ridiculous, it's just camping! Put up tent, have fun, take down tent, simples. I'll do some serious forward planning tonight and get everything lined up ready to go, thus leaving all of Tuesday and Wednesday morning to add any finishing touches. The campsite sounds rather good, I hope Sam enjoys the tennis courts and the football pitch (with permanent goalposts!). He will. I'm sure.

So....why so uneasy?

Sorry For The Flirting

2011-08-07T20:12:00.000+01:00

Right.

Apologies if I have been flirting with gay abandon (deliberate use) with you.

If I haven't, you're obviously unattainable!

The Day After

2011-08-05T20:53:00.000+01:00

I went to bed last night feeling absolutely average. I felt comfortable with me and Nik's talk.

I woke up with a constantly dropping tummy feeling (fight or flight), and an air of sadness. I had a lot of negative dreams last night. And I puked into the toilet a few minutes after I got up.

I suppose that, even if it's all agreed and harmonious and arranged, a cessation of a relationship hits you quite hard. It shouldn't, that's feckin unfair, as we're sticking to what we agreed.....over two years ago. I took the day off work because I was knackered, and had puked.

Two years has obviously built up a lot more attachment than I realised.

It's a very odd break up. As we set our own rules (we even wrote a drunken contract, with ALL kinds of dodgy clauses) it should be easy to move on when we want to. So how come I felt wretched this morning?

We're going to stay very good friends and talk all the time.

What happened? I think it would be unkind to say. One of us wanted to change our rules, so we decided to end it, as it was. The Rules Of Friends With Benefits were being bent. By both of us to be honest.

Nik had more guys begging at the end of her cane. I have carried on sharing a nice cup of tea with some friends. Nik found one of her new subs very attractive. I added to my tea rota. Just as agreed.

We talked about all this as it happened of course. And "enjoyed" talking about it. But one aspect grew a little and so we decided to call it a day, as it was.

In the spirit of our relationship, we have agreed to get together for....tea. Because we make such lovely tea, we'd like to occasionally to share a brew. So that's good.

The bad thing of course is that I am now off the leash. Knowing me, being me, there may be a lot of flirting, winking, complimenting action about to happen. Oh YES!

Avanti! Vamos!

End Of An Era?

2011-08-04T20:02:00.000+01:00

I suppose it was a lot of fun while it lasted. Nikki and I are calling a halt to our "thing".

Having a part-time partner worked very well and was exactly what we wanted. It allowed us to enjoy a nice cup of tea with other friends too. And when we were together as a couple we were really together, and extremely close in every way.

When we started it we said that one of us would probably become too attached, and that would be the time we pulled the curtain down. And that's what has happened. So we're downgrading to simply Mates.

It's a mutual decision, one that we agreed would happen, so there's no great feeling of loss - after all we're still brilliant friends, have shared a LOT of interesting times, and we've agreed to get together to drink too much red wine now and then.

We talked about it earlier....and we both feel a bit unsettled about it all. No massive grief, no despair, just an uncomfortable, fin de siecle feeling. Ho hum, with a side order of ah well.

I will be taking off for the weekend I think.

Campsite Chaos Creates Confusion!

2011-08-04T06:52:00.000+01:00

Oh lordy, what a kerfuffle. The campsite we were booked on for next week has told lots of its customers that they shouldn't have booked them in because there is some kind of rally going on there. So they have no free pitches, "sorry".

So the hunt is now on for an alternative - not easy with less than a week to go and during the summer holidays. I will do it though, we have too much planned to give up now.

There's always bloody something.

I'm Well Below Average....

2011-08-03T06:53:00.000+01:00

....but you knew that already right?

The news that amazed me this morning is that the average UK annaul income is £28,000.

My annual income is just over half of that. Rubbish or what. And shockingly, I am fairly well paid for my line of work, in this area. Most similar jobs around here are paid £2-3,000 less.

What can I do to improve things? Move to London maybe? Start selling drugs? Become a successful poet?

Terry And June!

2011-08-02T19:43:00.000+01:00

It's a sheer joy! Digital telly has given me Terry And June again!

It's a show I remember with a lot of affection from youth. It's corny, full of cliches, formulaic sitcom pap, but I love it.

I don't remember the cast stumbling over their lines now and then. And I don't remember Terry Scott and June Whitfield pretending to be 45 years old.

It's a nostalgia trip of course. If a similar programme aired today nobody would watch it. But I am loving meeting T&J again.

"Jooooooooooooooooooon!"

Which "Ulls" Do You Like Best?

2011-08-01T20:22:00.000+01:00

Tonight we have an abundance of ulls, preceded by the word cock. Cockles.

Old Bob knows a bloke who works on the cockle boats out of Lynn. Cockles is a very lucrative catch, selling at £3000 per tonne, so Welsh Bob (tis the cockler's name) is happy to give some of the harvest to local ne'er do wells like us. He gave Old Bob 8kg of the buggers (which would cost £24 at the fish market, and a whole lot more retail), and Old Bob was generous enough to offer half to me.

He's already prepped them for cooking. The ages old method is to place the cockles in water overnight, and add a good portion of flour. The cockles ingest the flour and excrete the sand and grit that makes up most of their coastal diet - well, would you rather eat flour or sand? It makes sense.

This particular batch filled Bob's washing up bowl to the very top when he added the flour last night. This morning there was "half an inch" (Old Bob measurements) of sand in the bottom of the bowl.

So now the cockles are in the flat. 4kg is a lot of shellfish! I'm cooking half of them tonight, which me and R, my colleague, will feast on during the morning tomorrow - I provide the cockles, she's bringing the vinegar and bread. The other half I'm giving to R as a pre-cursor to her giving me some of the samphire that she is given. Quid pro quo.

They've been plonked in boiling water, and had ten minutes, and are ready. You (apparently) have to rinse them in cold water, because if you try to de-shell them in the cooking water - which is made extremely salty by the cockles - your fingers will be in absolute agony soon after. I rinsed as advised, de-shelled them, and there were no after effects. From 4kg of fresh cockles we have 287 grams of edible delicious-ness.

Tomorrow at work we dine on fresh cockles, vinegar, pepper and crusty buttered bread. Will anybody else in the land have a finer lunch?

Here are some pics of the process:

8kg of fresh cockles fill my two biggest saucepans.

The uncooked cockles go into the boiling water.

Soon the cockles are cooked and open up, magically.

Cooked cockles are poured into a colander and rinsed with cold water.

Hey presto, ready to eat with vinegar. pepper and crusty bread!

Who Do You Think You Are Kidding?

2011-08-01T07:26:00.000+01:00

In the distance they spotted something that looked like a pillbox, or a bunker of some kind....

The call went out for the top marksman....

....and after shooting failed to dislodge the bad guys. we called in the air force. There were no Lancasters available, so we had to settle for Wellingtons.

What were we doing? It's confidential right now. But it's all to do with terrible sausages, and how to get rid of them. And the entire series of twelve methods will appear on Rate My Sausage....some time in the future.

Good Weekend

2011-07-31T20:44:00.000+01:00

All over now of course.

We didn't do a lot, but we did have fun.

Off to bed soon, I'll put up a couple of photos tomorrow to get your grey matter working....

Radio One DJs - And A Girl Called Clare (Or Siobhan)

2011-07-28T20:54:00.000+01:00

More dreams last night.

It started with me on a night out with some Radio 1 people, including Scott Mills, Chris Moyles, and - yes - Simon Mayo. Everyone was slagging Moyles off and he enjoyed it. The party was on a tram (!) and broke up, and I trudged to a pub.

In there I met a very sexy young lady called Clare, who liked me quite a lot. But when her mum turned up she called Clare Siobhan, which was odd. We flirted healthily before she went off with mum, but not before writing her mobile number on my Times newspaper. I spent a few minutes messing with the pub's on-screen menu system....then I can't remember anything else. DAMMIT!

Clare was so nice. She looked like a council estate version of Sara Cox. Shame I woke up.

In mental limbo today. Realised again that we are all just tiny animals, doing unimportant stuff, for no reward.

Forward Planning

2011-07-27T06:52:00.001+01:00

I've said it in the past - I enjoy planning my and Sam's activities almost as much as actually doing them. Collecting tokens for this, cashing in vouchers for that, and pre-booking the other, it's all great fun.

I spent last evening sorting out the first two of our five day adventures this summer holiday.

First of all we're heading to the east coast to recreate a previous visit, which was constant fun. Is it a coincidence that we'll be there when the Lowestoft airshow happens? Of course not! We'll also spend a day making our way from one end of Yarmouth seafront to the other, and another day at Pleasurewood Hills (tickets super cheap thanks to Tesco clubcard!). We also have a day left free, to do as the mood takes us.

Our second trip is to Scotland, which will be Sam's first time. Hopefully we'll drive more than halfway there on the Friday evening and complete the trip on Saturday morning. I've booked us into a special offer Travelodge for the four days we're there, what luxury! On Saturday we're going to watch Dundee United play Dunfermline. Watching the Tangerines was an annual ritual for me and my Dad when we holidayed in Scotland, and the half-time scotch pies are THE best I've ever had....wonder if they're still so good? I've written to the club to tell them this little human interest story - maybe something surprising will come out of it!

Sunday and Monday will find us visiting Stirling and its superb castle, and rambling up the coast to find a nice beach, weather permitting, however we can do either of these things on either day, and on Tuesday we're invading Edinburgh. So much to do and see there. We're ending Tuesday exploring the castle before taking our seats for the Military Tattoo (had to pay full proce for these tickets - FAIL!).

We have the long trip home on Wednesday but there's a final surprise for Sam. Months and months ago we saw a cool-looking skate park on TV, called Hairy Bob's....unfortunately it's in Scarborough so Sam's never realised his aim to skate there. He will this year, as I'm diverting us on the way home. Not only will Sam skate Hairy Bob's but it will be a handy halfway break to stretch legs and eat something unhealthy.

Roll on summer fundays!

A Terrible Night

2011-07-25T07:05:00.000+01:00

What a nasty night I endured last night.

When I went to bed I couldn't get off to sleep for a very long time, with work-related problems constantly returning to worry me. I have no idea when I did eventually sleep, the last time I checked the time was 0113.

I woke with a terrible start soon after. A loud clicking noise, and a scraping noise jolted me awake, and I was immediately on edge. Being in a ground floor flat I have always expected somebody to try to break in at night, eventually, and last night I thought it was happening. I got up, deterrent in hand, and looked around the flat....nothing. I went back to the bedroom and heard another loud click - it was the flat above making the noise. What a relief! So I set about returning to sleep - which proved impossible with a massive dose of adrenaline flowing around my system.

A long time later, and I must have been asleep again, because nightmares started. Two I can remember - one involved being on a very steep beach with a roaring tide coming in and lots of terrifying "creatures" trying to drag me into the sea. The other one I can remember probably wouldn't be a nightmare for most, but for me it was purgatory - I was living in a house somewhere and had the place full of guests. Relatives, friends, other people I didn't know, and I had to look after them all, giving advice about the hot water, cooking, making beds, all in all complete anathema to me, used to and happy with living in splendid isolation. Yuk.

When the alarm went off I was half pleased, half in dread. The bad dreams are done for another night, but I now have to go to work, and it's just not much fun there right now.

I Don't Get Crabs....Again

2011-07-24T10:58:00.000+01:00

Up with the....blackbirds again this morning, because I was going on a crab hunt.

I didn't get any. Low water was 0659, so I arrived at Holme ten minutes before that. My plan was thwarted by the extremely strong onshore wind, it must have been at least 25 knots. Thanks to that the water didn't drop far enough to expose the crab beds, hence no free food.

The bloody wind! It was tantalising, as the tops of the beds were poking above the choppy water, but there was no way of getting to them.

Still, it was definitely not a wasted trip. The beach at Holme is huge and the views along it are splendid. When I arrived there was not a single human being in sight, in any direction. Later a couple of horse riders galloped up and down, and a pair of dog walkers eagerly peered into my bucket. And that was that. Basically I just took a two hour walk through the surf, waiting for the tide to ebb just enough.

But time and tide etc....

Home for a bath, write a review, then meeting Old Bob, Ian, B and maybe Andy Fish for a pint and to watch the German Grand Prix.

Love Sundays!

Harrowing And Happy - A Day Helping People

2011-07-23T16:38:00.000+01:00

I had a quite harrowing morning at the charity.

There are definitely a lot of people who need support and help and to talk about some horrible stuff. And I "enjoy" being able to help too. Combined with a stint doing the tin shaking, it's a very worthwhile few hours. One very old boy became very upset today, they rarely find any way of expressing their bottled-up emotions, so when the right pathway into their life opens up it seems to release floodgates.

That's healthy though.

After my time was done I helped another charity case, Old Bob. We reviewed his online profile, he sent a message to a lady he liked the look of, and we'll see what happens! He's enjoying the whole enterprise. Whether he'll ever get to meet one of these ladies who knows? Would you like me to paste his profile here, in case you have an eligible friend looking for a nice bloke to spend time with?

And that was my Saturday. The rest of the day is all about chilling out and eating. On Sunday morning I'm heading to Holme beach again, hunting crabs, and maybe Sunday's tea will be a delicious crab salad!

Don't Look Up....And Keep Your Mouth Shut

2011-07-22T19:39:00.001+01:00

And around our place that's good advice.

The bloody seagull chicks are being turfed out of the nest / off the roof / from the drainpipe by the parents. They wander round confusedly on the ground, being unable to fly back, and just....get in the way.

When you walk within about 40 metres of one of them the adult birds assume you're predating them, and try to defend their offspring. Swooping, squawking, crapping. It's bad enough during one's routine perambulations around the site.

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Mobbing it's called. Quite - properly - scary is what I call it. And there's the screeching. And the shite. Looooong, gloopy trails of the stuff, as the birds swoop in to shittily strafe you. Bastards.

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Worst thing is they're a protected species, so we can't take....steps....to get rid of them. We try to have as many accidental fork lift/seagull collisions as we can. Accidents happen!

They Call Him Mister Bob-bastic

2011-07-20T19:17:00.000+01:00

Tonight Bob had his first play on his dating website. He loved it!

He was happy with the profile I'd written for him, and added a few extrea little bits here and there. And he's had women looking at him already!

Nine so far.

He browsed some of those interested in him, searched for others, and is, all in all, enthralled.

Next time we're going to actually contact some ladies. Tally ho!

Something Must Be Done!

2011-07-19T06:24:00.000+01:00

Sam's school have failed, again.

Same old story, not telling separated parents (me) about important school events. This means that the parents don't turn up, obviously, giving an impression of disinterest. Yesterday was just another example.

It was the school open day. Running from three until five o'clock. I wasn't allowed to take the time off.

You see, I only found out about it by pure coincidence. I was working outside the charity's premises on Saturday and Sam's school teachr walked past, did a double-take, and then returned to tell me something. That the school open day was taking place on Monday, and did I know?

Errrrm, how the hell could I possibly know?

It was waaaay too late to get the time off of course.

On The Subject Of "Nikki Is My Woman" (see previous post)....

2011-07-17T10:59:00.000+01:00

Nikki encouraged me to do something absolutely outrageous last night....

Not writing about it here. Well, not yet. If you're over-curious, and you know me, ask me by text.

There's more to come on the subject, lots and lots more, and soon Nik will be joining in with the whole, cool, bizarre, thing....

I'm In The Mood For Lurve....

2011-07-17T10:48:00.000+01:00

Yes, I am actively looking for a woman.

I've created a profile on an online dating site, and can't wait to see what happens and who answers the cry for love and romance.

I'm not looking for somebody for myself of course! Nikki is my woman. No, no, no, this is a project on behalf of Old Bob!

Bob's binned his awful lady-friend from Hunstanton, and not before time. He asked me about looking online for a lady to share the grown-up things in life with. Restaurants, shows, walks, and especially holidays. So I have obliged.

We'll see what kind of catch Bob's dangling maggot attracts!

Sam And Dad's Most Excellent Weekend

2011-07-14T06:52:00.001+01:00

It started, as usual, with Telly & Takeaway Night on Friday. And early on Saturday we set out for Sam to spend some saved up pocket money on a new poster for his bedroom.

We carried on the demolition of the settee, now armed with a massive hammer.

As you can see. Sam joined in with gusto.

In the afternoon we decided to test how quickly our car would accelerate from 0 to 60, which was fun. And in the evening we went to Festival Too in Tuesday Market Place, along with 14,998 others. Above you can see The Hoosiers, if you make the picture bigger.

On Sunday morning we got up early to visit Holme beach again, hunting crab. The dark coloured areas above are the crab beds.

Sam found an island-shaped bed, which made for a beautiful picture (crab hook in hand).

A thorough knowledge of seventies sitcoms is essential when crabbing....here Sam charms the crustaceans with an excellent Rigsby impersonation. "Yeessss, yeees, Miss Jones...."

This week we didn't catch any crabs big enough to cook (115mm), we think the other group of crabbers ten minutes ahead of us must have been very thorugh. We did catch a lot of youngsters though, and released them before we came home.

Sunday dinner was cooked by Auntie Lou, and was delicious, natch. Uncle Phil introduced Sam to the sport of shooting. He's been a shooting instructor for forty years so he knows what he's on about, and is Red Hot on safety. Huntin' and shootin' in the same day - if it's good enough for that posh lot just up the road from us....

Sam loved the shooting, and turned out to be a surprisingly accurate shot. As you can see by the decimated tin can target.

All in all a truly memorable, boys-own adventurous weekend.

An Exemplary Vicar

2011-07-12T18:15:00.000+01:00

Meaning, I'll be using a vicar as an example, not that I have encountered the perfect preacher.

You see, when I was strolling into town yesterday to undertake training with the charity, my path led me out of the park and past St John's church. Opposite the church is the vicarage, and there, in an upper floor window, stood The Vicar, hands on hips.

He was obviously perusing the passing pedestrians and thinking to himself "Ha! The fools! Trudging off for another day of rat race ennui. Peasants. I am their Master! I do nothing but interfere in people's private lives and read out of a book for half an hour on Sundays. And I get a fucking SHITLOAD of money for it, and a big house, rent free."

Alternatively he was thinking "There they go. Every day the same. I am truly lucky to be able to serve them, help them, get to know them and be allowed to enter their lives. I feel blessed that god has chosen me to represent his gentle ministry here in King's Lynn."

Or was he thinking "Ooooh ya bugger. My back's killing me after putting that wallpaper up all day yesterday. Must remember to nip to Morrisons later for some milk. And teabags. Oooh look, there's that comical squirrel again."

Which one is correct? I dunno, probably none of them. Although I do like the idea of a hellishly Machiavellian vicar. My point is, should I give the ex some benefit of the doubt? OK, I experienced her displaying an identical, poor behaviour on two consecutive days, which shocked me. In mitigation she may be tired, after all it's been five weeks since she had a week's holiday. Whatever the case, I'll be monitoring things very closely for quite a while.

Thanks for all the ideas and suggestions and support, whether through a comment, the emails, or for those I have spoken about things with in person (especially the Foxy Chick outside Samaritans!). I'll write about our simply fabulous weekend....imminently.