St8rk Reality.

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Sleepless in Scotland

The effects of severe sleep deprivation, No. 32:

Pointing my car's electronic key fob at the garden wheelie bin and wondering why it won't open.
Mind you, it could be worse, I could have dumped the leftovers from last night's dinner in the back of the car.

Monday, December 18, 2006

Inside

Sorry for the lack of red hot blogging action, I've been indisposed.

Why are all hospitals painted in the same hue of beige? I can think of nothing less appealing - apart from Christine Hamilton chatting me up at a swingers party (of which I've never been to, obviously) - than this so-called colour.

It is the colour of boredom.

19 hours, one room, three nurses and one poster illustrating the correct way to lift someone (which I can now, though won't, quote verbatim. I'll save that party piece for Christmas).

I'm now back to normality - although I suspect it's a normality which will never be the same again.

Oh, I meant to say... what kind of cheese does not belong to you?

Nacho cheese.

(really sorry)

Monday, December 11, 2006

The kindness of strangers

My faith in humanity has been (temporarily) restored.

Perhaps it's a Christmas 'good will to all men' thing but yesterday two small gestures really made my day.
Firstly, I was returning to my car in the dungeon car park where it lives during daylight hours. As I never, EVER, have enough change to feed the meter for an entire day, I usually have to make at least one return journey during the day to top-up the meter.
As I approached the money-hungry machine, I could see a small ticket, carefully stuck to the facade of the machine. The ticket still had three hours to run before it expired.
Rather than simply scrunch the ticket into a ball and toss it into the passenger footwell, someone, a very thoughtful and generous someone, left the ticket behind for someone to make use of.

I go three hours for nothing!

What an unselfish act, I thought, as I walked the short distance to the underground station. I had only a short distance to travel to run a lunchtime errand and so decided to travel by tube, rather than risk losing my parking space for the rest of the afternoon.

Then it happened, again.

As I was entering the station, I pulled out my wallet and began scrambling for enough money to buy a ticket. Just as I pulled out a note, I was approached by an elderly gentleman.

"Excuse me," he said, in an elderly gentlemanly kind of way, "but are you going to use the tube?"

"Er.... yes," I said, bracing myself to repel a ninja-style attack by the old geezer.

"You may as well have this, then. It's an All Day pass and I won't be using it again today. Go on, it'll save you two quid."

I took it from him and continued with my journey. I was gobsmacked. I use up most of my oxygen quota complaining about how selfish and cynical society has become and then this happens - TWO thoughtful acts within the space of five minutes.

People. How great are they?

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Groundhog Day (revisited)

I am living in Groundhog Day (again)

Every day is the same -
Wake up
Brush teeth
Dress
Eat cheap German cereal (Aldi-addict!)
Pack bag
Get in car
Sit in traffic
Seethe
Park
Enter office
Leave office for coffee
Seethe
Work
Go for long walk at lunchtime
Make unneccesary purchase
Work
Seethe
Try not to fall asleep
Get back in car
Sit in traffic
Seethe (there's a theme here, have you go it yet?)
Arrive home
Go for walk with Mrs S
Check e-mails
Eat dinner
Do a couple of token household chores (badly)
Do exercises in spare room, serial killer-style (you know, with a broody
look on my face and tattooes glistening in the sodium hue of the street
lights)
Go for bath
Watch CSI (sometimes two)
Go to bed
Awake
Brush teeth
Etc
Etc
Etc

Every day is the same.

Oh, apart from today, when I paraded about the big city dressed as Santa
Claus, being chased by gangs of local youths who screamed: "Where's Rudolph
now, ya fat bastard!"

Ho Ho Bloody Ho