31st January 2007

Effing A

I have just had the best news I have had in years. I called Nski and told her. We reserve our expensive banter for real life-changing events.

I have every single item crossed. This could be it. All I need to do is hold my nerve.

I've also offered to pay for Nski's internet access and she has kind of committed to starting to blog again.

I daren't look left. There will be four men on horses.

Keep me in your pocket and cross your bits please -- this is just too important.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 16:20 GMT, by Kenny
 

BTW

Another great title

It strikes me that all I need to do is mention Nski blogging again and the whole world starts commenting. Bastards. ;)

Also, be prepared for a guest appearance by everyone's favorite Bolton Wanderers fan, Stan.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 11:27 GMT, by Kenny
 

Gurrr and agggh

My post titles suck at the moment, but that is because I am tired.

Thanks to those of you who left a comment yesterday. I will forward them on today and thus guilt Nski into restarting her lovely rants.

In the meantime, I am in love. Charlotte Martin's Redeemed has got to be the best song ever. It reels you in and spits you out but leaves you feeling like you have just experienced something on a galactic scale. I cannot describe how much that piano resonates in every musical bone that I have (yeah, smart-arse, I have one -- my sternum, which is close enough for jazz).

Yesterday was a good crossword day. F and I finished off the Telegraph and the Grauniad and then I polished off the Times on my way home. Unfortunately there was a newcomer in th'Oddies who is a chess player, and Emma was working, so it was a late night. I could have done with another 8 days sleep. Nevertheless, here I am, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Not.

Gah and urrr. I am tired. At least another 90 minutes until a lunchtime pick-me-up/crossword.

You will probably hear from me again later.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 10:21 GMT, by Kenny
 

30th January 2007

Pickled?

I have just opened up Da Missus's blog for my good mate Stan to have a gander at. While I was at it, I had a read myself. I'd forgotten how bloody pithy Nski is. I've now emailed her and demanded that she starts blogging again. We can hope.

Stan's comment was "Jeez - this is ballsy stuff. So similar to your style btw".

True dat. I think I owe a lot of my writing style to Nski. And probably some to some other people -- Steve H being probably the most notable.

Now I come to think of it, I didn't realise I had a writing style until it was pointed out to me. I tend to just blurt what is currently blundering around my astonishingly inactive brain. Okay -- that's a lie. The brain has periods of activity that involve kicking Auraucaria's arse in the direction of Kingdom Come, and also lucid moments when I can remember my bank login details to extend my overdraft yet again.

Speaking of piling more debt on myself, I went to the Dell website today to see how much it would cost for me to have a laptop to run Vista. Given that you require terabytes of memory and petabytes of storage, I figured that my current laptop will not cut the mustard. I mean, you need, like, 256MB of VRAM for God's sake. It transpires that for about £1000, you can have a fairly well spec'd laptop that is capable of running Vista. However, it also transpires that if you're me, you cannot have credit because you have been a naughty boy and left the country for too many years. Tsk tsk.

Shame that. I quite fancied dual laptop action. Fedora and Vista. If I have enough beers at the weekend to convince myself it's really a good idea, I'll extend my current arrangement with whatever hell-hole bank I got the last laptop-loan from.

Bah, it's cold outside and it's only Tuesday. To everyone, I request that you request Nski to kick the blog off again -- you know you miss it. Leave pleadings and bribes in the comments and I shall pass them on.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 15:22 GMT, by Kenny
 

Anthropology is the word of the day, or some such

A while ago, the BBC (or it might have been the Telegraph) did a report on a strange phenomenum. There are people you see every day while commuting that you never speak to. This kind of struck a chord with me. You don't know what they do for a living, where they live or anything about them other than their face.

Everyday, there's the white haired chap with battered hands who gets the same train as me from Bryn. He always arrives seconds before the train does and buys a single to Manchester for £2.20. Yesterday, I went home early due to feeling oogy and he was on the train on the way home. So why the single? Surely a return would be more cost effective?

Then there's the lass who gets on the train before Wigan. She has a look of devilment about her. She's always chatting with someone. She has the same kind of sparkle in her eyes that Julie Walters has. There is something that you just cannot ignore about her; she resonates energy. I get the feeling that she knows I watch her in the morning -- she kept giving me coy yet sly grins this morning. I was probably sparkling myself to be honest -- people like that breed good karma.

At Westhoughton, the woman I have termed "Posh Spice" gets on. She has the ultimate in smiley eyes, like she knows something really funny that we don't. She looks a lot like Posh Beckham but isn't as painfully thin. She's normally with a very plain and badly dressed bloke.

There's the wannabe intellectuals too. They get on the train at Wigan. They've both been reading Jack Kerouac recently and discussing it. Their observations are not quite inciteful if you have lived in America.

All of these people I see daily and very rarely interact with them. It's a fascinating thought to wonder what they all do and what their lives are like. For all I know, they could be bloggers or they could read my blog.

Anyway, work to do...later.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 10:03 GMT, by Kenny
 

29th January 2007

Ug and ack

I did my first podcast yesterday and left it up there for a while. Having reviewed it this morning, I have pulled it. Typing is one thing in that you can think before you type, but speaking is a whole different game.

In travel news, the usual four carriages from Wigan to Manchester turned out to be two this morning. Can you guess what I will be doing first? If you think website and complaint, you are correct.

I don't like Mondays. Is it crossword time yet?


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 09:57 GMT, by Kenny
 

28th January 2007

Sunday, bloody Sunday

I have once again managed to avoid an endless banter of subjects I do not wish to discuss by not going to the parental units' abode for Sunday lunch. However, I've been deuced. Die Fuhrer has kindly (and cleverly) left the polish and a rag on my bedside table. She has also left the vacuum outside the door and a time-honoured tickling stick. I think I am in receipt of some kind of message. I wanted to leave 10 pesatas or potatoes or whatever they use in Mexico outside and pray for the best, but it appears that Bryn does not have Mexicans -- we should fix that.

I am still toying with the podcast content and have even gone so far as to download Audacity and root out my microphone. This could be messy. I probably should leave the cleaning until after the podcast.

I don't know who is playing at footie today but a quick trip over to the BBC should give me an excellent excuse to drop into th'Oddies to laugh. That said, it's not much of a laugh at the moment. One of the more gentle people I have met has throat cancer at the moment and is undergoing radiotherapy. The treatment looks horrendous. He assures me, in whispers, that it feels as bad inside as it looks from the outside.

The plus side of it is that, in general, all my favorite lasses tend to descend on a Sunday. Admittedly, they are in the pool room while I am the other side of the bar in t'smoke room so there's little more interaction than a quick "hello". Give a thirty-something a break; I can be delusional for a couple of hours a week.

Right. Audacity? Check. Microphone? Check. Idea? Check. Now I just need to polish my delivery. And the damned desk.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 10:08 GMT, by Kenny
 

27th January 2007

Oh, and another thing

I left work a tad early yesterday to go and be awed by gadgets at Maplin's. It's like Fry's in the States but for proper geeks. There isn't a cable that they don't have. It's like porn for Kennys. I love that place.

While I was there, I was struck with the memory of the desk that so tormented me in its assembly just before Christmas and how my laptop sits just a bit too high on it for comfort. I cannot type properly on a full size keyboard so have been on the look out for a laptop size keyboard that I can nestle on the keyboard drawer/shelf of the desk and, as such, provide me with the degree of comfort I deserve. Allah be praised and Maplins be beatified -- result. As I write, I am sat with a laptop style external USB keyboard that actually has a keypad as well and I am loving the whole event.

Strange how you can be really impressed by the action of a computer keyboard, but I am.

Right. Must focus. Notes for podcast, steal socks and then football.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 15:06 GMT, by Kenny
 

Ug

It is well gone noon and I have just breached the perimeter of my pit. What started out as a couple of cheeky schooners en-route home turned into a chess fest and before I knew it, it was 1am. No bloody wonder I lost; I had been up for 20 hours.

This morning's daily dose of junk mail yielded a shiny silver envelope. At first I thought something along the lines of "ooooo -- shiny thing -- must open" a la Homer Simpson. Then it dawned on me that it was exactly what the creators wanted me to think so I binned it without opening it. People think that identity theft is a huge issue. My father burns his bills. My brother shreds his. Die Fuhrer shreds them and then burns them. I just turf them. Anyone who is clever enough to steal my identity and then use it to secure money is a formidable intellect and I wish them the best of luck. Anyway, letters from your bank or utility companies do not come in shiny silver envelopes.

I've been making notes on what I think I should put in my podcast. I like Mox's idea of opening with some music. I think my first attempt at a podcast will be to do with accents. I can do every accent on the damned planet apart from a US one; how weird is that? Except that sometimes when I sing I sound Amercian but doesn't everyone? I thought it would be good to open with Counting Crows' Round Here. The contrast of the Californian accent to the local accent here (which I speyk fluAntly) is quite the spectacle and cannot be done justice by simple keyboard phonetic gymnastics.

In fact, I could do a "Teach yourself Wigginese" series of podcasts and then DVDs to educate you great unwashed who only speak one language.

Trouble is I get nervy whenever I get put in front of a microphone or video camera so this aspiration may never be fulfilled. I could throw some beers at the problem as I watch the football later on today, but you really don't want to hear me blarting out nonsense after a few hours in th'Oddies. Even the locals in th'Oddies don't want to hear me, and they are allegedly my friends.

Speaking of which, I know there a couple of the arseholes great people who frequent th'Oddies who visit chez moi electronically (Get that? Another language). They'll be crying into their beer right now at the prospect of me podcasting, screaming "Bring on Proctor". I would, but no-one outside the UK would understand a word he says. He's got that marvelous gift that only people from North Lancashire have of being able to roll an R forever without sounding like a scratched record/duff CD. Kind of like David Lloyd but not.

Anyway, now I have had my morning rant, I will away to partake of luncheon after a heavy morning's sleeping. And then, for my sins, I will away back to the Holy shrine that is th'Oddies to watch United.

Tomorrow, I'll see how this podcasting goes and then sign the million dollar sponsorship contract. Get in quick if you want a signature or an answer phone message.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 13:29 GMT, by Kenny
 

26th January 2007

Weekend fun

Inspired by Mox's podcast from her mate (sic) butterfly, and by Mox and Steve's joint effort, I am considering having a play around over the weekend. I have an idea that might work and might not. We'll see.

Also, just for that butterfly podcast, Moxie is now blogrolled. I should not have listened to that at work.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 10:21 GMT, by Kenny
 

25th January 2007

Wow

I know I'm a geek when I read about storing images on a single photon and I start thinking about optical amplification without converting the signal to an electronic one.

All I can say is that I am gobsmacked. Doff of the cap in the direction of Rochester.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 14:12 GMT, by Kenny
 

And while I'm feeling crabby

If Kent cannot cope with the predicted (astonishingly deep [sic]) 5 full centimeters of snow, we should surrender it to the French.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 11:07 GMT, by Kenny
 

Pay day rant

The one thing that has gone well thus far today is that Kate Silverton graced my screen for 20 minutes before I left the house at 06:25. That's about as far as it goes. Oh, I suppose the fact that the 07:06 from Wigan to Manchester had its full compliment of regular totty was okay too.

First, my weekly train fare has gone up by a phenomenal percentage which put me in a bad mood.

Second, the train that was standing at platform 5 at Oxford Road decided that the front half was going to Chester and the back half was going to the airport via Piccadilly. Only it wasn't because the back half was, how do you say, gebrocken, kaput and various other German words for buggered. The train on platform 4 was doing the same thing so a kindly conductor informed everyone we had four minutes to get to platform 4 and then proceeded to not open the door for two of those four minutes.

I made it to Leeds. Eventually.

Given it is pay day, I set about sending some cash over to Nski. Having filled in all the web forms, I hit submit and was told in very, very red letters that my transaction had been refused. I called the bank. Apparently I had triggered a fraud alert or terror alert or some such. They are surprised every month when I habitually send money to the US to such an extent that my card gets cancelled and I have to spend half an hour on the phone to the card people answering personal questions such as what the color of my underwear was on the day I got my degree, to prove I am me and that I am not funding Nski Bin Laden. Hint to bank: it happens every month and our surnames are the same.

I then had to complete all the web forms from scratch, again.

On top of all this inconvenience, I would like to state for the record that my capuccino was not up to snuff this morning. And it went cold while I was describing the mole on my leg to the fraud department.

Things had better improve or the neighborhood cats will be running scared.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 10:47 GMT, by Kenny
 

24th January 2007

Telegraph hammered, bring on the Guardian and other random thoughts

And then the Times and Indpendent

I am so rocking at crosswords at the moment that I cannot look at myself in a mirror. This is not good for the hair-do, but bolsters the confidence no end. The brain is well and truly engaged. Factual knowledge is a tad unreliable but lateral thought is certainly operating on liquid oxygen.

On an unrelated note, and in reference to my post of yesterday, when I was back in the old game I wrote:

The introduction of 0201 passive devices in consumer electronics presents a great challenge to the stability of the surface mount assembly process, as we know it today. The advent of the 0201 significantly decreases the process tolerance in all stages of the assembly process, making the deployment of some form of inspection into their assembly process a critical must. What is more, the minute size of 0201s (0.5mm x 0.25mm) means that inspection by human eye is impossible and that Automated Optical Inspection (AOI) is now becoming mandatory.

0201s are component sizes for passive devices (capacitors and resistors) placed on printed circuit boards. They are the reason that your phone does more and is smaller. They were the big thing at the time. Now we're on 01005s. That's a quarter of the footprint of an 0201. Unbelievable. These things are 0.25mm x 0.125mm. If you can imagine such a beast, you're sure to be impressed that they can be placed within microns by robots. I used to joke that in exactly the same way that Motorola insisted you wore googles on a production line, the health and safety people would go completely mad and insist that you wore a mask to avoid inhaling wayward 0201s. With the advent of 01005s, I think my parody has become reality.

Dunno if any of you are interested, but if you email me, and I know you're not a co-worker or an arch-nemesis, I will point you in the direction of my rantings and ravings, albeit with a marketing spin.

Yikes -- I really am on a trip down memory lane at the moment.

In the meantime, I have to make sure t'interweb works and that our beloved Home Office have all the data they need.

Salut.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 14:37 GMT, by Kenny
 

Gordius is my biiiaaatch

Yesterday was a particularly gratifying journey home, with the exception of the fat bloke at the side of me struggling to breath. Having bitch-slapped the Telegraph, I set about Gordius in the Guardian.

13 Meryl, for example, is once produced here (4,5)

LYME REGIS

Get in!

I swear, I used up a week's worth of concentration.

I have yet to pay any serious attention to today's crossword, but be rest assured that it will be crying for its comfort blanket within an hour.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 11:58 GMT, by Kenny
 

23rd January 2007

Pangs

Every now and again, I revisit my old employers' and competitors' web sites, just out of interest in how the technologies and the market are evolving.

One of the things I miss most about the job is the trade shows. I just spotted that Apex 2007 is scheduled for February in LA, and I had sudden flashbacks to all the fun I had attending it. Trade shows for capital equipment are bloody hard work. Set-up, tear-down, 12+ hours on your feet and then the obligatory partying.

The first year I went, I was still based in the UK so flew out to meet a prototype system that had been left out in the rain for a week or so, so it was starting to rust. The (then) Sun server was trashed and I spent the first day of the show rebuilding it from scratch and then compiling the application software, while simultaneously programming inspections for various eager PCB manufacturers. At the time, it seemed like a disaster but in retrospect, it made my directors an awful lot of cash.

I think the next few years, it was in San Diego. I vaguely recall presenting a paper there but that might have been SMTA in Chicago (I used to do all sorts of papers and general bell-ringing exercises). In fact, my papers are still up on my old employers website. San Diego's gaslamp district has to be seen to be believed and I absolutely fell in love with a French restaurant that was closed the next (and final time) I was there.

I missed one trade show as Zoe was due to be born. The last time I attended it, it was in Anaheim and the writing was on the wall. All sorts of deals were under way in terms of allegiances etc. but ultimately it was to fail. Or rather, the faith was lost.

I suspect a lot of people who are no longer in the industry look back on those halcion days with fondness. It was boom time and everyone had P/E ratios of astronomic proportions. How quickly the stock prices dropped to where companies were valued at or below the cash on their balance sheet. Those who are still in the industry are probably still struggling and spending more time in China than the West and it's probably nowhere near as fun for them today. I suppose I look at it through both misty eyes and rose-tinted glasses. The wench is dead, as it were.

Shame. I'd jump back to it in a heartbeat. For all the frustrations I had at the time, you learned something new at least twice a day and it was something I was genuinely world-class at.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 15:26 GMT, by Kenny
 

It's official

I have empirically proven that the coldest place on the planet is platform 13 of Piccadilly station. I defy anyone to prove otherwise.

BTW, as well as being my Z's birthday today (happy birthday Beanie), I am due to become an Uncle any day. Rather, the Flip Flop and our kid are due to sprog/become parents. I have already made a resolution that I will not babysit for them -- they never did for me. I'll occasionally coo in the direction of Thirsk and stick to purely digital interactions.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 10:48 GMT, by Kenny
 

22nd January 2007

Phone blog

To the git who told me to turn down my mp3 player, I will as soon as you quit whining about your job. There's a reason I drown you sorry bastards out.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 18:39 GMT, by Kenny
 

Happy Birthday Gorgeous

Tomorrow is my little girl's seventh birthday. In two days time, it will be exactly two years since I last saw her, N and Nski. It flies, and you wish it didn't.



Happy birthday beautiful.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 15:54 GMT, by Kenny
 

Weekend round-up

All I can say is that it was messy. No-one should ever show Man Utd being beaten by the Arse and expect me not to drown my sorrows. I could do with an extra decade of sleep.

In addition to that sadness, Wigan are perilously close to the relegation zone and I have a new nemesis at chess. Having got to the point where Yoz and I usually come out even over a few games, he introduced me to his apprentice, Kev. F*** me ragged, is that guy good. He didn't just beat me, he absolutely pasted me. Twice. I then proceeded to paste his brother. Twice.

Anyway, there's this chap who goes out in Minneapolis for a few brewskis and then falls 17 floors from the Hyatt Regency, and lives. Now my take on this is that you can survive falling 17 floors if you're lucky, but I bet the bugger sobered up very quickly -- being outside in January in Minneapolis is like having your eyes pricked with needles twice a second. It was brought home to me this morning how much I hate the cold. There was snow over the Pennines and I literally shivered my way from home to work. How on earth did I survive winters in Minneapolis?

I have a few rants lined up, but for now I am in meetingsville followed by Crosswordville.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 10:42 GMT, by Kenny
 

20th January 2007

Get in

Liverpool 2 - 0 Chelsea.

Today I am at one with my scouse brethren. Time for a game of chess methinks.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 14:54 GMT, by Kenny
 

19th January 2007

Education for the masses

I bet there are few people on the planet who have not read BOFH, but here is an example. Not a great one, but you get the gist. Go read the original ones -- feckin' hilarious.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 15:33 GMT, by Kenny
 

Airnote loop detected

For those that come here searching for the error "airnote loop detected", let me tell you what I have discovered...

Airnote are a company that supply an email to SMS or equivalent service to US cell phone companies. So the "Airnote" in the error message is irrelevant.

"Loop detected" means nothing to me in this context. Rather, it could mean anything...hardware, firmware, software, RF, etc.

As far as I can tell, I think it is probably a problem with the recipient's hardware (based on my experience).

Sorry I can't be anymore help.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 15:16 GMT, by Kenny
 

Friday, wrote Mr Kenny

Can we all heave a collective sigh of relief? I think we can. It's that day again and life has blessed me with a keyboard and internet connection through which I have managed to extend my God-awfully big overdraft. It doesn't get much better. Well it does, but usually not the month after Christmas.

The upshot of the OD (overdraft dummy, not over-dose) is that I can frequent th'Oddies over the weekend and kick Yoz's arse at chess; last night finished in a draw (1 game each), even though my win was entirely down to a Yozzer school-boy error that anyone could make when their mind is on the bigger picture.

You'll be pleased to know that, at lunchtime, I whipped the Telegraph like the redheaded stepchild it is over a couple of Dublin's finest beverage. Okay, I needed the help of the fellow member of the posse, F, but it was still whipped.

Like you people care, but I had a nasty journey in this morning thanks to rail delays and my being a complete feckwit...for various and nefarious reasons, I found myself aiming for Stalybridge and then failed to recognise it when we got there. The upshot was that I found myself heading back towards Manchester. I was bright enough to spot this fact, disembark at Ashton-under-Lyne and get a train to Huddersfield and then another to Leeds. Four frickin' hours to travel 60 miles.

What else is there?

Ah yes, China's demonstration that it has some serious capabilities. Shooting down something that is 4ft square 530 miles above the earth and scoring a direct hit is seriously clever. It's no wonder that eyebrows have been raised in the West. As is well documented here in various archives, I have a great respect for the Chinese and their technological capabilities. Why this has come as surprise to anyone is beyond me.

I suppose I must comment on the epitome of crass crap that is Celebrity Big Brother and the racist allegations. Firstly, I have never heard of any of the contestants so I think I should sue them for misrepresentation. All I can say is that I have seen the news reports but have never seen an episode or whatever the divisor is for such nonsense, but it appears to have occupied the front page of most "newspapers" for the last couple of days (thank God for the Telegraph who chose to lead on the Chinese missile story). From what I have seen, this is not a case of racism but a case of envy wrapped up in vitriol inside a shell of obnoxiousness and dressed with a sauce of bitterness. Oh, and cockney. Basically, it's bullying. Bullying, to my mind, is a superset of racism.

The girl who is the subject of the racism is (a) stunningly good looking, (b) very successful in Bollywood and (c) born into cash anyway. The obvious resentment is palpable when you see the news clips. Given the nature of the pathetic piece of voyeuristic crap, she will not know the public reaction and I'm sure when she exits the house, there will be a swell of lawyers eager to talk to her. She's obviously been spoken to by the producers of the show given the leaked footage as if she were the offender.

Andrew Duncan, CEO of C4, published a statement that went along the lines of 'it is good that these things are brought out in the open'. Erm, how do I say this? SLOBLOCK (anag) (8). The issue is not one of racism, but of the broader spectrum of morals, ethics and sociability. What appears to have transpired on the show would be probably objectionable were it fiction. To see it on a reality show breaks every rule in the book. The Carphone Warehouse, quite rightly, pulled their sponsorship -- that speaks volumes. No-one wants their brand soured by such vitriol.

The reality of reality TV is that it is watched by brain-dead feckwits and no-one should want them as their customers anyway.

The only redeeming morsel of this tawdry affair is the irony of the quote "I think she should f*** off home. She can't even speak English properly" -- spoken in a broad scouse accent.

Sorry, random and ill-thought rant there.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 15:10 GMT, by Kenny
 

18th January 2007

Apocalypse Bryn style

I knew it. I called in th'Oddies last night for a cheeky schooner en-route home (home is "wom" in Wigginese -- remind me to give you all virtual elocution lessons) and one of the topics of conversation was the impending apocalypse that is British weather. I said that if I didn't get to Manchester in the morning, I was just going to return home.

Sure enough, come this morning, I made it as far as Wigan before the trains started being cancelled. "T'flooding in t'Parbold" announced the tannoy. The last time I got the next train in a situation like that, I got there at 11:30. Sod that for a game of soldiers.

I was lucky enough to get the same train I had arrived on back to Bryn. The walk home was like walking in a hurricane. Rain battered down and I'm sure that I must have been at 45 degrees walking forward into 60+mph gusts. I hate that, because when the gusts subside you have to be very quick to adjust your balance.

I arrived back here at 07:30, drenched to the bone.

Looking out of the window at the overturned everything, I'm glad I didn't go in to work -- I have to walk past too many very high construction sites.

The roads are a mess, the trains are a mess and freighters are sinking. In some places it's gusting up to 90mph. And I need cigarettes.

Still, one can take comfort in the fact that my sausage, bacon and various other lards are ready. Maybe more later.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 12:55 GMT, by Kenny
 

17th January 2007

For those about to blog

I Salute You

Okay, settle in kiddies. This might be long and random. Costa cappucinos just rock the house and at £2.45 for a large one, it's the way to send your mind into overdrive. They shouldn't be called "grande", they should be called "immensimo".

I had a relatively quick journey in this morning yet the caffeine kicked me into frenetic mental discombobulations -- love that word.

Before I start, can someone explain to me why the 8:12 from Picadilly to Leeds gets in at 9:05 while the 7:55 gets in at 9:20, and there's only one line in that direction? I'm thinking they mix Costa coffee with the space-time continuum, add in a few parsnips and a few Spock quotes and there's a "beam me over" action going on. I never did get relativity.

Anyway, let's go.

First thing that any self respecting Kenny does in the morning is anihilate the Telegraph crossword. Less than ten minutes this morning, which is why I had so much time to be frenetically discombobulated (get in a second dose, why not?).

Observations on life this morning went along the lines of:

-- It strikes me that all the best looking women in the Northwest live in Westhoughton. I should make a point of moving there. It would be a bit of a commute to th'Oddies for their eye-candy but I'm sure Westhoughton has its own. Lisa Stansfield should have come from there -- she reminds me of a girl I dated very briefly at Uni -- shit, I can say her name as she's almost certainly forgotten my name, even though I fixed her car on more than one occasion and lost a lot of blood in the process -- Donna, who I worshipped for the brief dalliance we had. I remember wading in the sea, in Llandudno, fully clothed at midnight with her and then an evening of false promises from her. Ne'er mind. It got better. Anyway, Lisa Stansfield does not come from Westhoughton so all that is a moot ramble. But she does share my birthday.

-- Evanessence must stress MP3 player batteries more than any other band. Mine always craps out during some seriously loud guitar. By the way, don't let anyone tell you any different: Duracell really are the best batteries.

-- I think my bust metatarsal (ooh -- aren't I still the trendy one) has impacted another metatarsal in my right foot. I must have been compensating for the weight adjustment while I limped, just a little too much.

-- Charlotte Martin's Stromata has a storyline (albeit chronologically wrong -- record company must have ordered the tracks). I know I'm slow. I never really got the hang of interpreting metaphors. I need similies. To anyone who spotted it before me, I say "whatever". She is a talent to be reckoned with.

-- Powder blue shoulder bags are no accessory to anything. Especially on blokes.

In other news, I had a sweet email from Nski when I arrived at work today that literally brought a tear to my eye and a swell to my chest. She just rocks most of the time. So bugger you, Lisa Stansfield and Donna -- you were trumped by Left and Right Bower (Euchre reference for my UK viewers -- it's a card game, stupid).

Man, the Costa must be wearing off. I have sudden fatigue.

I suppose I should do some work too.

Later. Oh, and I insist that the US folk burn hippies not logs.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 10:06 GMT, by Kenny
 

16th January 2007

No!

I don't want bloody NFL games polluting our sacred Wembley.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 14:41 GMT, by Kenny
 

Paper clips

Well as mi'learned friend would say, I am back at the paper clip factory ergo long days and short nights (in the metaphorical sense), hence the radio-silence for a couple of days.

Reading CNN earlier on about all the fatalities in the winter storm across the US made me think a few things:

1) I am sometimes glad of global warming and being this side of the pond -- and I know some moonbat will comment that the storms are *caused* by global warming.

2) I cannot help but think of friends over there who are smack bang in the middle of it. It's statistically virtually impossible for any of them to have been any of the 41 killed but you never know.

Good luck to all my US compadres. Cheer up -- Spring is only 4 months away. Throw another hippy on the fire.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 14:12 GMT, by Kenny
 

14th January 2007

Marginal improvement

Yesterday, I summoned enough energy to reinstall my damned PC yet again. I then found strength from the depths of my soul to head to th'Oddies to watch Wigan get royally trounced by Chelsea while I was royally trounced by a similar margin by Yoz at chess. It was a pitiful performance that I put down entirely to illness and the distractions that surrounded the game (P was asking bloody questions all the way through two games, and N and E were playing pool). Of course, I would. It is in no way down to the fact that Yozzer is a better chess player than I am and I cannot take Guinness like I used to be able to.

Today sees a day of domestic hell while croaking before the all too quick return to work.

Awww, hell. There must be time to throw in a Spooks DVD and sit back. Yes. I have convinced myself.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 13:33 GMT, by Kenny
 

12th January 2007

Great plan

My old CEO/MD/whatever has a company that begins with the letter i. I don't want to name it for obvious reasons. I emailed him earlier on asking whether he was being sued by Apple.

Stan and I started a little IM session:

Stan says:
Good call. Problably every Ian and Irene in the world is being sued. Not sure anyone would sue Islam - since they definitely had that name first

Hornswoggler says:
Screw them! We should sue 'em anyway. I like the name though -- I-Slam -- great name for a media platform.

Stan says:
Like a D-Slam, but with white earphones

Hornswoggler says:
Perfik'. I feel a satirical blog coming on...

Stan says:
Patenting letters of the alphabet. Hmmm - could be a real money maker

Hornswoggler says:
Be a cracker -- you could make some up as well. "The letter formerly known as Z". Brilliant. Now all I need to do is steal socks.

Right that is now stages 1 and 3. Any suggestions for the middle?


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 11:11 GMT, by Kenny
 

Banal post

You don't have to read this.

As luck would have it, day two back at work and I feel like absolute shite. I'm convinced my bone marrow is frozen solid and I feel like projectile vomitting over the partition on to my compadre's base station.

I managed my metric ton of fruit this morning and a couple of cups of coffee, but I think the weekly Palace trip and crossie fest is off the cards.

My father has been laid up for over a week with some lurgy and my mother has just got it. Even my brother has been struck with something. Am I the last in the family to receive some unjust horror?

I had planned on spending tomorrow getting my home laptop back on track but at this rate, I'll spend it in bed being man-ill, which means moaning to the power two of the relative suffering.

Of course, the prospect of the gorgeous Nicky and Emma working at th'Oddies might spark my interest in spreading the germ wealth. Nah, not even that can spur me into action. 'Looks like it's a few days of misery. Again.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 10:41 GMT, by Kenny
 

11th January 2007

Kate Silverton one step nearer to her destiny

Check it out.

About 1,800 staff may move to Salford, while an upgraded Broadcasting House in London will take hundreds more.

Imagine Kate Silverton moving to Salford. She could easily commute that distance from Wigan. Kate, you know my number...let's talk about how we split the bills.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 15:33 GMT, by Kenny
 

Down time

I may be quiet for a bit. The bloody PC at home has coughed Windoze into oblivion yet again. Until I get a DVD with Fedora on it and work out how to get my dongle wireless internet thingumy working, I am, as they say, buggered.

Given I get up two hours before I go to bed, lick the M62 clean wit'tongues and then am ritually murdered by Die Fuhrer, buried and then have my grave danced on while she sings "Yes sir, I can boogie", it might be the weekend before I reappear. Hope you all have something fun to do that doesn't involve cursing Microsoft for their crapness...word to the wise, do not delete your event log -- Windoze thinks there are four horsemen approaching with various daft names. Oh, and hal.dll will balk, faint and then die. Horribly.

If you want a job doing...


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 14:36 GMT, by Kenny
 

10th January 2007

Happy Bidet Mater

Mater turns sixty today. I have to get out and get her a present.

In the meantime, I have Die Fuhrer involving me in the endless lunch preparation and my dependent, B, calling me all the time to tell me how much her life sucks. I reiterate, "lady, do something rather than talk about it."

Talking sometimes solves diplomatic problems. In domestic cases, where one person is very obviously batshit, you need to just act. I have lost count of how many times I have told her that. I have no interest either way; she can either remain my friend and heed my advice or she could just feck off. I have no preference. Advice to aspiring female suitors: if you start off every phone call with a "Hhhhhhh" sigh, you've been neutralized immediately. I switch off in an instant. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" is my usual response. Then starts the recounting of last nights incident which, quite frankly, I am rapidly losing interest in.

My ex-wife was batshit. I didn't mope around calling random females. I just got the hell out of there. Is the solution really that hard to see? I despair.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 12:59 GMT, by Kenny
 

9th January 2007

I promise this is my last post of the day

I was due to see a doctor this morning. I had made the appointment because I knew I was off work and I didn't want to waste my employers' time.

I arrived there dutifully at 09:30.

"Sorry K is not here -- she has flu. We tried to call everyone yesterday. We spoke to your mother and she said you were in prison."

"WTF? I have never been convicted of anything in my life."

Rummaging of files.

"Oh, sorry D, we didn't know you were called K."

"Bloody mother and her ideas of a good idea."

February 6th now. Great. I hope I don't die and let Nski sue the bastards. Private medicine is the only way to go. I've got to do it. If one word makes a difference, I'm not subscribing. Idiots.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 13:07 GMT, by Kenny
 

Last couple of days off

You can tell because I am posting-crazy.

Dolly Parton is a Goddess. Don't even think about arguing with me.

Tracy, you're a sweetheart but sod the pickles. ;)


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 12:29 GMT, by Kenny
 

In praise

As we all know, this time of year puts everyone's bank balance under pressure. I have always hated dealing with banks.

It's a throw-back to my student years where I used to beg for £10. I remember going in there when I was 19 and asking for a £50 overdraft and being asked "what for?". Well I wanted it for many things but the arrogant side of me got the better and said "there's a horse race". The guy asked me the name of the horse and said that he would give me the OD and double it if the horse won. Irresponsible? I think so. It did, and I was the proud owner of even more debt. Bastard.

In the UK, since I returned here, the whole credit system has changed. It used to be that no credit was good credit. Not so now. It's more like the US system. We gradually creep to being the 51st State, which is no bad thing in my mind. I'd sooner be in bed with the Yanks (no pun intended) than the EU.

Well, I swapped banks about 8 months ago and I can tell you, it's the best thing I ever did. Lloyds are the dog's bollocks. Everything you need to do can be done online. I mean *everything*.

Thank God for forward thinking companies.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 11:17 GMT, by Kenny
 

8th January 2007

Quelle surprise, a rant

Stereo bitching and the art of alienating.

I feel bad doing this on a day like today, where I have just heard my grandmother howl with grief over her dog. I balled my eyes out too. I told you she loved that animal more than she did my grandfather. I was there when both of them died; compare and contrast.

Yesterday was a tense day, knowing what the morning meant, so conversation was sketchy. I may be over-analyzing, but I got very annoyed. My mother constantly digs into my life for bits of things. I'm not a chatty guy, contrary to what the blog may say. She was prodding around at a very tender spot verbally, and the Fuhrer hit the jackpot with one question. I just about exploded. Phrases like "you have to talk about it" are a silly myth invented by those with a rogue chromosome. Fact is, you don't. You talk about it when you want and to who you want. Maybe my testosterone dictates that I should show no weakness around female relatives, but I hate laying my mental state on a plate for all my family to see. They probably mean well, but to insult someone's own space is not on.

After I blew my proverbial fuse, I left for th'Oddies regardless of the consequences. En-route, my mate B rang. She was having her nineteenth nervous breakdown in as many days. I was in no mood. Sorry ladies, but I lost it with her..."listen, you're just like every other woman I have ever met; it's all talk, talk and no action." I hung up. I was in no state to help anyone with anything.

Thankfully, upon my arrival at Sanctuary, P and P were in so some spilling of beans was done. Sage nods were exchanged and beers were bought. That continued for an hour or so. Around seven o'clock, enter Nicky. I didn't see her but P2 whispered to me "Artwork, 12:10". I knew what he meant straight away and disappeared down to the Co-op for some more cash -- well, it would be rude not to when Nicky was working.

On my walk stagger home, I got to thinking about how I delineate between females. I can't do the talk, talk thing with most women. However I have never kept anything from Nski. I think Nicky has the same kind of attitude to life as Nski which is why I like her so much (and the fact that she is stunningly pretty).

Anyway, I think the moral of this post is that if you're a person of a female persuasion, take heed of the fact that men will open up when they feel comfortable. If you try to force the issue, you will repel them. Oh, and some days men have bad hair days too, so don't expect them to come running to rescue your damsel-in-distress-self.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 14:22 GMT, by Kenny
 

D-day

As I speak, the vet is on the way here to put down Harmony. I cannot witness it. Bye old girl.




Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 11:43 GMT, by Kenny
 

7th January 2007

Bah, humbug

My cunning plan to get to th'Oddies has been thwarted by the fact that the BBC are showing the Man Utd FA Cup tie. Die Fuhrer spotted it in the bloody TV rag she buys every Saturday. I should put in a standing order to wipe the newsagent out of such gutter-drivel every Saturday. My bank-balance would suffer from that expense and the extra Oddies trips, but my sanity would improve in spades.

Apparently chess is the new heroin. It is frowned down upon by the Fuhrer. I presume that this is probably due to the fact that it is (a) enjoyable, (b) cerebral, (c) social and last, but not least, involves me going to th'Oddies with my mates and lusting after bar staff. Some people are just so damned unreasonable.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 12:59 GMT, by Kenny
 

Get in

Another victory over Yozzer at chess. I am rapidly becoming a God. That said, Yoz had had a few tipples before playing (Wigan lost so he was consoling himself), so maybe I can just be a demi-God.

I now have the tortuous affair of the maternal parental unit arriving for lunch. The clever bugger has done a switch and bait on me. Since I have not been going there, she has decided she will come here. Thankfully, Man Utd are on mid-afternoon ergo I have a decent excuse to escape to the sanctity of th'Oddies to watch the match and gaze adoringly at Nicky. It transpires that she's the girlfriend of an old, old mate of mine who I used to knock around with when I was but 6 or 7. Ah well, he got the looks, I got the brains. Not sure who got the better deal there. ;)

I don't know what it is with me and barmaids. I think Stan said something a few months ago that may have some degree of truth to it -- she serves me beer and I give her money; the basis of a perfect relationship. Somehow that doesn't work with El Bobbo -- logic-wise, I mean. All part of life's moderately wealthy pageant.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 11:32 GMT, by Kenny
 

6th January 2007

Big decision

One of the few useful things Maggie Thatcher did for this country is allow council tenants to buy their houses for reduced sums. My grandmother never got the opportunity really because my grandfather, Stan (not of radiofreeism), died before it became feasible. I, on the other hand, could do it for her; and I think I will.

Let's face it. The chances are that I will not get back to the US. Nski shows moderate interest in coming here but tends to be focused on the here and now, and I need to start thinking about me long term.

I dreaded coming back here but I have been pleasantly surprised by how much I like it. Okay, the trees aren't where they were. I've put a pond in where one of my favorites used to be. But there's something about this house that eases me. I spent a lot of my formative years here and enjoyed them enormously. Things have changed, granted, but it's still my haven whenever. Why should I let it slip?

I discussed it with the Fuhrer last night and she sees no reason why I shouldn't buy it. Decision made. First thing Monday.

If Nski makes it over here, I'll need to make some structural changes but that's fine -- I have so many builder mates that it will be easy. If she doesn't, I'll need a tenant for the other bedroom, eventually -- and I don't want to see that day.

Oh, and I need a spot for a piano.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 15:32 GMT, by Kenny
 

Victory is sweet

I cannot believe that I managed to beat Yozzer at chess last night. Not once, but twice. Admittedly one of those was on a technicality (he castled in a position that would have put his king in check during the process, from a cunning twin bishop move), but all the same, we are talking about a man who has beaten grandmasters. I am not worthy to wash my own feet. I should hire someone to do it for me. Maybe I'll ask Yoz. Nah. Maybe not.

A trip to the shop this morning gave me bragging rights. The lady who works in there was present at th'Oddies last night for the Friday kareoke debacle spectacle. There had been numerous jibes about "Keep it down -- there's a chess match going on back there." I proudly proclaimed my victory over Yoz to her. Her response was a very respectful (sic) "It must have been my singing." My retort was "Stay home love." Some people have no respect for intellect!

Also there's a bloody stunning looking girl started working in there. She must only be early twenties so she's completely off the cards (for moral as well as faith reasons). At last the Gods smile down enough to give me some aesthetics while I languish away from Nski. I took one look at her and felt like a giddy teenager. Chess is a sobering thing, thank God.

Cheers Yoz.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 11:32 GMT, by Kenny
 

4th January 2007

Another day in Paradise Wigan

As I said earlier, I have no idea what an airnote loop being detected means, but this is how I responded to Nski:

You and me both babes. We will be back together this year, I promise you. Hang in there...this was divinely ordained. Trial by fire.

Have just busted my hand open dismantling Fred's washer. Her idea is that I smoke too much, which is why my hand is covered in blood. A simple "you're an idiot who has all the dexterity of a sloath" would have sufficed.

Nski wouldn't have allowed me to get within six feet of it. I have that male attitude that looks at something and says "I can fix that". Several hundred dollars worth of hardware and a couple of thousand dollars worth of medical bills would normally be followed by a "Hey Nski" and the production of a posidrive screwdriver; first on the washer and then into my kidneys.

Some days you have to realise your limitations.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 15:23 GMT, by Kenny
 

A post in two halves

You can tell I'm on holiday can't you?

First, I've just had an email to Nski's phone rejected with an error "Airnote loop detected" -- WTF? Never heard of it before and I work for an ISP designing this kind of shit. I guess I'll google it and then not tell you what it means.

The second half is that I think I'm turning into a poorer version of Steve, except without the cullinary skills. Charlotte Martin has really inspired me to take up the piano again. I must buy one as soon as is humanly possible and financially feasible.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 14:05 GMT, by Kenny
 

Apologies

Apparently I broke my comments while trying to un-block Rita's email address. The right honorable Stan spotted my faux pas. It was a horrendous nested logic thing that I need to divide up into more manageable chunks. I guess that means be prepared for them to break again while I tinker.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 13:15 GMT, by Kenny
 

Inertia

Die Fuhrer went on one of her legendary life-style rants last night.

"You do nothing other than go to work, do crosswords, listen to bizarre piano players and mess around on the computer."

"You are wrong," said I. "I also go down to the pub, drink ale, smoke tabs and play pool and chess."

Okay, so when I am working, I am out of the house for about 15 hours a day. A lot of that is walking. But I was too tired to make the point.

Given I have nearly three weeks off over Christmas, she has started me on a physical regime. Being of Uber descent, the center of anyone's Deutschlander existence is breadcrumbs. I have just had to make some and can honestly say that if I had to spend that much time every day to achieve so little, I would be wearing 20 year old lederhosen, shrieking Eidelweiss and writing really bad piano concertos. Honestly, lunch preparation begins at 10:00am and lasts until 1:30pm. Who the hell has time for that? I can feed myself until I am sick as a dog for £5.00 at the local boozer.

Fuhrer's view is "you spend too much time with mental exercise and not enough with physical". A fair point but physical exercise has never been my bag, baby. I need to be mentally exhausted or under the influence to sleep well.

The opposite end of the spectrum gets exposed whenever I take the dog for a walk. As is documented, the little darling doesn't have long in her mortal coil. She crawls. I am not physically capable of walking so slowly. If I were I would be a dwarf with pointy ears. No comments on that. Everyone who knows me says I walk too fast. I just can't help it.

So, your mission for today is to explain to me why my God knows how many calories a day of fried food, crosswords and computer "shit", while listening to some phenomenal piano playing keeps me (at just under 6 feet) at around 145lbs. That's probably about 15lbs under what I should be.

Oh yeah, if you manage it, please explain it to the Fuhrer.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 11:25 GMT, by Kenny
 

3rd January 2007

I hate it when I'm right, sometimes

Well, I finally managed to talk to the vet rather than the bleached blond vacuous waste of oxygen. I looked at Harmony's x-rays and it is as I thought; soft tissue problems. They have taken a biopsy and we'll know more on Friday. Her joints don't look great but show me a thoroughbred Retriever of ten years and you'll not find any with decent joints.

My father started questioning my judgement on such things as we left the vet's. I thought about countering with a "What the hell would you know, you're a chemical engineer?" and then I remembered I am but a lowly mathematician. That said, I think I know a damned site more about these things than most.

Anyway, the good news is my friend is around for another two days at least.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 16:39 GMT, by Kenny
 

Second rant in a week

If you work in a vetinerary practice, you should show some bloody empathy for those that are preparing for the worst for their pets. Whoever the girl was in the surgery this morning who was pissed off that my dad had taken *her* parking space should be fired. Had Die Fuhrer not been there, I'd have taken her to task. Sadly, I may end up having to do it after some awful news.

Secondly, I'm in a state of arrogance again. I get like this when people don't question decisions. Die Fuhrer and my mother worship doctors and vets like they are the bloody second coming. I despise that attitude. Doctors are no more than trained monkeys -- as my mate W says, they are trained to pass exams and work through a decision tree. As always, some are brighter than others. Vets tend to be on the higher end of the spectrum, which is why in English law, vets can treat humans if need be while doctors cannot treat animals.

What incensed me this morning is that the decision as to Harmony's fate will be down to one person. I asked whether I could look at her x-rays and was told "no". Call me beligerent but I actually can look at these things and give an educated opinion. The cynical side of me knows that it is in their own interests to keep her alive -- extended treatment equals more cash. The other side, my more humane side if you will, wants to know the truth. I don't want her to suffer but I don't want someone misdiagnosing what could be benign and treatable.

If you had seen this dog over Christmas, tearing up wrapping paper and hassling me every morning for fruit, you would know she had some spirit left in her. The poor thing is probably now under anaesthetic with someone who dictates her future, or lack thereof. If she were human, no one individual would be able to make that decision. That dog has a vocabulary second to none that I have ever witnessed. She is brighter than most humans I encounter and I am outraged that some "boffin" who we are all meant to revere has the power of life or death.

Like I said earlier, I think I know what the prognosis is, but I would like to be able to check it prior to her consignment to history.

You should always question the logic behind any ethical decision. Doctors and vets are not Gods. Most of us have it in us to rival them on an intellectual level.

And with that, I will return to worrying about Harmony.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 09:52 GMT, by Kenny
 

Sad, sad day

In an hour or so, I have to take my grandmother's guide-dog to the vets for an x-ray. I already know what the prognosis is, and I'm pretty sure I won't be bringing her home. I haven't slept much thinking about her fate. She has been such a loyal and beautiful aid to my grandma, and although the Fuhrer has her characteristic stoic attitude, I know she is sad beyond all measure. She loves that dog more than she did my grandfather. Then again, the dog didn't gamble or drink so I guess there's some rhyme to the reason.

I know a bit about imaging, and I know what I expect to see. It's a cancer on her right back leg. I spotted it two weeks before my grandmother did but I didn't want to worry her. I suppose that is selfish of me; the dog was obviously in pain. But as James Herriot wrote "if only they could talk". I guess I knew but didn't want to know. I fully expect to return home sans dog and it breaks my heart.

All guide-dogs look sad permanently, like they have all the life kicked out of them, but give them a carrot and watch their eyes gleam. They love their work, and they hate it when they stop. Harmony has been retired for about six months. Not much of a twilight really.

I'll update you when I know for sure.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 07:45 GMT, by Kenny
 

1st January 2007

OKEs

I have delved to the depths of my depravity for this year's new OKEs, and boy has it been hard. Yesterday's statements still stand. Charlotte Martin is a golden find. Kate Bush is still my musical love, and Kate Silverton is to be adored. So where do we go to find other OKEs?

David Lloyd. An accent that you could sharpen knives on.

Yozzer Been-Larding (my arch-nemesis at chess). Fiendish mind.

And with that, I have a small crisis to take care of; Die Fuhrer is suffering from a cold so I must cook. Don't laugh; it happens sometimes.

OKEs are open until tomorrow...nominations are welcome.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 12:45 GMT, by Kenny
 

Resolute

I decided last night, shortly before I fell asleep at 11:45, that I would have a New Year's resolution. I have forgotten what it was. Maybe the usual give up drink. Do-able but not great for the sanity. It might have been give up smoking but I find that thought utterly abominable. No sane person would do that.

This morning, all I can come up with is "have a shave once in a while".

Suits me sir.

OKEs later.


Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 09:54 GMT, by Kenny