Thinking...

 

A 'Holiday'.

I have been on 'holiday' for nearly a week...

I haven't had a drink of coffee for over 24hrs...

 

I feel better now..

I really do...

 

OSM Being: 56

I am currently sitting letting my new skin dry out.
I am surrounded by my birthday booty.
01) a Jonthan Meades DVD collection.
02) an elaborate clamp system that will allow me to mount my iPad on a microphone stand.
03) a pair of Rayban Clubmaster sunglasses.
04) a shaker I can attach to my finger thus adding a percussive element to my ukuplaying.
05) 5 pairs of black socks decorated with a swallow motif.
06) several large bars of chocolate (that are getting smaller as I type).
In a thrilling fun packed day I've been attempting to understand several knotty staff wages problems, delivered a vacuum cleaner motor to a less than grateful cleaning crew, and visited my dentist for a check-up.
I'm going to spend the early part of the evening unravelling the knotty staff wages problems with the equally knotty Night Shift Supervisor at the college campus.
I look like this:

I can tell that's not a real smile.
Watch this space.

Goodbye Being:55

That wasn't a bad year at all !

I lost (lots of) weight and lots and of useless baggage.

I became a better ukulele player.

I completed the Senbazuru (folding 1,000 origami cranes).

I created, placed, and recorded 365 paper plates.

I found work I can get into at last.

I must go now...

It's time to regenerate.

 

Swallow Cottage, Stripe Lane. Hartwith-cum-Winsley. (Updated: Permissions Changed)

I had intended making a looooooonnnnnnggggg home movie about last October's trip to Nidderdale.

Fortunately for boredom thresholds I changed my mind.

So, edited highlights of significant importantance to... well, me I suppose.

 

So, now you know.

 

Last Week I Couldn't Spell 'Service Contract Manager'. Now I Are One!

Life is a curios and bewildering goings on, well mine is.
Towards the end of October, pre-holiday, I received a phone call from Mr. B. Would I like a cleaning job, 30 hour week contract? This call came as a 3 year project crashed into the barriers so, on my return from holiday, with my bank account empty, I said yes.
I rang my prospective employers to enquire about a position with the company. The call went surprisingly well. Almost as the handset hit the cradle a van drew up outside and in a whirlwind interviewing and form filling I found myself being taken to Crawley, given a uniform, a mobile phone, a van, a hearty handshake, and sent off to do 2 hours steam cleaning.

What joy, what rapture.
Since then I've had some never less than interesting cleaning experiences. I'd go into them, but if you're not into cleaning things like I'm into cleaning things it may seem dull.
However,
The company's strap-line is 'Cleaning with a conscience'. Which basically means having to use 'environmentally sound' cleaning products. All well and good, but...
NO BLEACH!!
FML it's hard work. As for the 30 hour week, no.
Including journey time to Crawley, something close to 15 hours per day.
I love it.
Two weeks ago, whilst vacuuming somewhere in Crawley, I received a call from a company director. Now what with the vacuum running, a slightly blocked ear, my tinnitus, and my unfortunate habit of saying 'yes' to anything I found I'd accepted the post of Contract Service Manager for a college in a nearby town.
I am to take over from the current encumbant whilst he has a hip replaced.
The college has sites across a 35 mile area, cleaned on a daily basis by a team of around 40 people, which I'm going to be responsible for.
This is going to be fun...

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I Used To Be A SteamPunk, But I'm Alright Now.

My new employers have given me lots of exciting toys to play with:

Hey humans!

With the rise & and increasing viriulance of some really nasty micro-organisms, the names of which I am unable pronounce let alone spell, and the decreasing effectiveness of antibiotics, you'd better hope people like me do a really good job or your deaths are going to be really, really ugly.

Seaside Song & Dance Gynaecologist.

I let my childhood secret ambition out of the dusty room it's been in for about 51 years now here:

Hardcore Uker.

Well, why not?

I have the requisite musical abilities i.e. being able to sing a song and play the uke at the same time with occasional hilarious excursions into kazoo world.
The dancing's a bit of a poser and no mistake.

Like most foolishly drunken (or drugged) young men, I've bust the odd move or two out on the floor.
Used to enjoy it as well.
I think the style of dancing a song & dance man might require may be somewhat different to the extravagant 'free-style' flayling-about I used to call dancing.
Tap-dancing, now there's a worthwhile skill to attempt to acquire.
Lessons are a shocking price though.

Of no lesser concern is my wardrobe.
In the childhood vision I wore a stripy blazer and a straw boater.
These kind of items bring premium prices in retro boutiques and I'm not in that market.
I considered what item I could get that might signal my ability to provide a song & (potential) dance for the entertainment of those who are bored.

I have it!
It cost me £2:50 on eBay:

My God! I look like a gynaecologist.

Bow ties are a bit weird though, aren't they?

When I do decide what to do about the dancing aspect at least I know I've got the legs for it:

My God! I still look like a gynaecologist.

Glasses. (Updated with all the things I'd forgotten about.)

During the Optic Neurotica-do-dah my eyesight changed.

I waited until I was sure my eyesight had settled down and stumbled off to Spec-Savers.

I got to put my head in several interesting machines which weren't anywhere near as bad as the optic interrogation with bright lights I got when examined in the hospital.

I am directed to a room with a soft-spoken Indian optician in it.

I look at eye charts and green and red squares whilst having various lenses put into the sort of frame I'd really like, but isn't available to buy.

Imagine my disappointment.

After the examination I am invited to choose some frames.

This is a bloody minefield an' no mistake.

In the end I chose the frames I decided were the most unfashionable yet still had a certain style about them.

That was a week ago.

I went back to collect my new face furniture:

01: Reading/Close-up:

02: Distance/Driving:

Shit, it's my Dad.

(I didn't specify the 'Antler' option.)

Update:

During my eye examination the soft-spoken optician casually suggested I might consider making an appointment with my G.P. for a blood-pressure test.

I didn't bother to ask why he thought I might need my blood-pressure testing, as soon as I returned home I made the appointment.

Up the health centre my blood-pressure is taken by the practice nurse.

She tells me my blood-pressure is fine if not perfect (for a man of my age).

I ask the nurse if she can check my weight.

I seem to be losing quite a lot of it recently.

I know this because all my trousers seem to belong to some fat bloke.

I am 90kg or 14st.

I've lost 1.5st since my last check-up.

Which is a good thing according to the nurse.

Not if you've got to buy new trousers it isn't.

A Photo Opportunity Presents Its Self.

I've actually been hear nearly 16 years, but never mind.

I'm sure my nose isn't that big IRL.

The Photograph.

I was attending to the duties todays Modern Cloak-Room Attendant has to attend to when providing Premier Cloak-Room Attendant Services to, let's say, a charity ball (in aid of something or other).

I was buffing up the Cloak-Room counter top, having given it a good blast of Mr. Sheen (now with added something or other).

Hmmm...  Shiny, also silky smoooooth.

I was interrupted in my shiny counter stroking reverie by a photographer.
The photographer was there to take pictures of the guests.
He had the works with him.
Tin-foil umbrella with a flash bulb in it.
A special backdrop for the subject to stand in front of.
He had some fancy dress clothing for the guests wear  there by adding an element of amusement to the finished photo.
He would then have to sell them the photo.

I set up a 4' table for him and coved it with a green baize cloth.
He put his printer on it.
Here we see him examining his whopping great camera:

All well and good, but back to his interruption of my joy.

"Could you just stand in front of the screen while I just check everything's set up right?"

"No problem, sir".  

I stand in front of the screen, he aims the camera at me, and the flash goes.

The photographer examines the camera's view screen.

"Just one more, please".

"Happy to oblige."

All over.

I continued preparing my work area.

I gave the shiny counter another stroke.

The photographer came up to the Cloak-Room window and handed me a framed photograph:

It came as a bit of a shock I can tell you.
That's naked that is.

Have you noticed how you can look at your self in a mirror, but still never see yourself.

Photographs are different.

It reminded me of my first school picture:

There's, give or take a month or three, 50 years between these two pictures.

I tried to think about what on earth I could proffer in the way of advice to that happy little lad.

I'm still trying.

So That Was Xmas.

Bad light by the bins.

Linda says I have to stop being a Viking now:

Back In The Old Routine.

Three days of Modern Cloak-Room Attending coming up:

I was booked for last Saturday, but due to circumstances beyond my control I gave it a miss.

I'm not sure what went on at the event, but these were left behind:

My granny would have called them 'orthopaedic boots'.

There was also an unusual serving tray left in the toilet-roll cupboard: 

Hmmm, The Wife of Bath indeed.

Obviously the situation required a thorough investigation.
Sadly I was unable to pursue the leads as a female guest, somewhat worse for drink, fell down, and required an ambulance for her broken wrist.
It seems part of my duties require me to do the emergency call.

Later on a male guest, somewhat the worse for drink, fell down, and required an ambulance for his head-wound.

My life is just to exciting!

Be Gone Dull Care!

Begone, dull care!
I prithee, begone from me
Begone dull care!
You and I shall never agree
Long time hast thou been tarrying here
And fain thou wouldst me kill
But in faith, dull care
Thou never shall have thy will

Too much care
Will make a man turn grey
And too much care
Will turn an old man to clay
My wife shall dance and I shall sing
So merrily pass the day
For I hold it one of the wisest things
To drive dull care away.

Hence, dull care,
I'll non of thy company;
Hence, dull care,
Thou art no pair for me.
We'll hunt the wild boar through the wold,
So merrily pass the day;
And then at night, o'er a cheerful bowl
We'll drive dull care away.

Seasonal Indicators No. 01: The Christmas Jumper.

I always make an effort to enjoy:

Yule-tide
Christmas
Xmas
Noddy Holder's Pension Day.

(take y'pick).

One way to enjoy the season to be jolly is to wear a Christmas Jumper:

It will be worn to all the local Uke Jam Xmas celebrations beginning tomorrow's Littlehampton Uke Jam held in the bar area of the Dolphin Pub (rather than the function room above the pub).

There's a special song-book:  Ukulele Christmas Song Book

(Frosty The Snowman is incomplete BTW)

This is probably more of a public information message rather than a blog post.

I'm off to put the sprouts on.

A Sundry Mortification, An Artifact, A Log Burner, And A Hair Cut.

A while ago I waffled on about, what I considered to be, the Perfect Drum Machine.
I suggested that there was an iPod/Phone/Pad app called Funk Box that now fit the 'Perfect Drum Machine' bill after I found out I was able to load samples of my personal favourite drum machine (The Soundmaster SR-88) into it.

Ah, the memories come flooding back, pool at my feet, and drown me...

During the writing of that blog posting I happened to tippy-tap-tap 'Soundmaster SR-88 into eBay.
Just looking, mind you, I had absolutely no intention whatsoever, at all, in the slightest of perhaps, considering, maybe actually bidding on that particular item, no way.

It cost me £55 and, when it finally arrived, didn't work.

Stern Voice of Reason: "Let be a lesson you profligate foolish person!"

I was so disappointed.
I put the box of useless electronic folly on the corner of my desk where I could see it and be reminded of how easily desire can lead to unhappiness, especially when buying it on eBay.

And that's how things might have stayed until my old friend (and electronics genius) Mr. Beresford 'Berry' Greene contacted me.
Me: "Berry, mate, please can you make this drum machine work for me?"
Berry: "I'll see what I can do."

Two days later:

Unassuming Genius Beresford 'Berry' Greene.

HE FIXED IT!!!
The only problem now being, the memory of the sounds this machine made are better than today's stark reality.
I've put the SR-88 back on the corner of my desk once more.
Just to remind me about letting that desire thing get out of hand again.

Linda brought an artefact home:

Not Steam Punk.

Linda: "It's an old paraffin fuelled greenhouse heater.  I like it".

Me: "We don't have an old paraffin fuelled greenhouse to heat".

Linda: "I'll just plant things in it instead then".

Our only heating is provided by a multi-fuel burner which we had fitted..

Well, it didn't seem that long ago.

It really needs a service and some internal bits and bobs replacing.

On digging out the info and related paper-work I find out 9 years have gone by.

That hurt my mind.

We didn't have the chimney lined at the time of the original fitting but Linda has decided it would be a good idea to have it done now which means removing the VERY HEAVY CAST IRON BURNER:

H is for Heavy.

No, no, don't thank me, it's all in a day's work for the modern space-person.

The truth must be told.

I need a hair cut.

A Hairy Man

Well, I really need several of them cut to be honest.

I have my hairs cut at Jeff's Barbers Shop.

Jeff is 1,000 years old and knows what you mean when you ask for a short back and sides:

A Smooth Man

A Series of Events Involving Ukuleles and Ladies Underwear.

Third Sunday in the month again so, Wukulele again.
It only seems like last week I was rambling on about the wonderful Wukulele jam.
Suffice to say it was as wonderful as ever.
I become embarrassingly over-ethusiastic at this event and say and do foolish things that draw attention to me.
I can't help it.
I am embarrassingly over-enthusiastic.
It's one of my endearing features.

Another feature of this event was the first trip out with my NEW TOY!:

Yes, I always look this cool.

It's a Concert sized resonator uke and it's fabulous, fabulous, fabulous!

I've blogged about my financial hard-times but, after the last few weeks, my attitude to the whole situation has changed.

I managed to dig myself out of an impending hole by not actually digging the hole in the first place.

I sold everything that wasn't screwed down, I stopped smoking and if any kind of work was offered I said "YES!".

I'm not being self-righteous about this, I just did what was necessary to get myself out of a situation I shouldn't have let myself get into in the first place.

During the great (long overdue) musical instrument sell-off the one instrument I regretted having to sell was my resonator guitar.

I love the 'bark' that type of instrument has and I missed it.

I began watching resonator ukes on eBay and decided I'd have one just to pat myself on the back a little for being a brave soldier recently.

I have no regrets, this instrument is a thing of joy!

No doubt about it.

I let anyone at Wukulele who asked, or showed any interest in the instrument, have a 'go' with it which is another aspect of that 'embarrassingly over-ethusiastic' thing I have.

Anyway,
Linda and I are on the way home.
Linda sees the sign for the new ASDA (ASDA=WalMart in USA) store near Ferring and suggests, in the way that only women can, that it would be interesting to visit.
A short discussion ensued in which I made several spirited attempts to suggest we shouldn't visit the new ASDA.
The short discussion ended.

We joined the cue of cars trying to get into the ENORMOUS car-park.

Time passed and I eventually found somewhere to park.

I hate car-parks, car-parks are my natural enemy.

I am useless at car parking.

Welcome to ASDA:

The caption on this picture was generated randomly by hand-held technology.

You're bloody welcome to it mate!

Time was I enjoyed visiting supermarkets, I considered them 'democratic'.

Nowadays I just get confused and irritable in supermarkets and embarrassed at the pompous way I considered them to be 'democratic'.

Now, you remember who instigated this trip into mediocrity don't you?

Linda (for it is she) has now amassed enough evidence to come to a conclusion about this latest retail opportunity to spring unbidden from the bowels of boredom.

She doesn't like it.

Now somehow, and I really don't know how it happened, I managed to misplace Linda and found myself wandering around alone.

I found myself in a bad place:

HELP!

I think I'll leave me there.

Lost in a supermarket, surrounded by ladies underwear, and without a ukulele.

That'll teach me to sit and wait in the car in future.

Welcome To The Modern Cloak-Room Attendant Team!

I have absolutely no idea who these people are, they were just here when I arrived.

I wish I had an exciting job like Linda:

Angry Birds.

Errr, I'm Fine Thanks. (Support Your Local Uke Jam).

The last few days have been a bit of a blur.
The last high-spot was the bicycle ride home during the early hours of Friday morning.
WOW! You should've been there!

The wonderful drugs then began to leave my system.
My sleep patten had become disturbed to the point where I couldn't remember if I'd slept or not.
My feeling being that the "or not" bit is the truth of the situation.

The Modern Cloak-Room Attendant shift that started at 16:00 hrs. on Friday and finished at 03:15 hrs. the following day was, to put it mildly, a trial.
Which, I'd like to point out, I successfully negotiated.

My physical condition at the moment is difficult to evaluate, but I'll try.
I'm not in pain.
I'm sort of 'wobbly' when I walk, but I don't have a problem walking.
My feet feel 'fizzy' in the way they did when both my legs went numb earlier this year.
My eyesight is completely out of focus but seems to be slowly improving.

Another good night's sleep and I may have something more to report but, I will say this:
If you find yourself in a similar situation to me (say, with Optic Neuritis)...

TAKE THE STEROIDS!!!

But, fuss and bother on all that.
Today is the Littlehampton Ukulele Jam!

I'm ready:

A Spaceman Risks Carpet Madness Because The Light Is Just Too Good.

The "Hard-Core" are in:

"What Page?"

And for no apparent reason at all, here's a picture of Linda standing next to a big metal restaurant:

"Hurry Up, I'm Bloody Freezing!"

Occupational Therapy.

I have discovered a way of making my casual working life easier to cope with:

Depth perception tends to be a bit compromised and this method does seem to emphasise the enormity of my hands.