Bit of a sore head...

Thanks to a bit of forward planning, I'd booked the day off today expecting to feel a bit delicate after the inevitable celebrations that would come with my mate Dom turning 26 yesterday.

We started with a football match between the pub team and a team of regulars at the local college grounds. I missed the event last year so I was probably more surprised than most at what a great performance the regulars put on. Admittedly towards the end there were about 16 "regulars" players on the pitch and following a seven all draw, it seemed a bit harsh that we should lose it on penalties. Irrespective of the score, they raised over £100 to be split between a local school and scout group.

From then on, there followed a leisurely afternoon in the Tap sat on the balcony , occasionally jumping to our feet to admire the large fish swimming below, but generally supping beer and exchanging tales of varying degrees of filth and offence from each others mobile phones.

Early evening and a dozen of us hopped into taxis to cross town and enjoy a superb carvery dinner. Next stop, the worlds smallest pub for a beer festival where we probably should have stayed for the remainder of the evening as the subsequent venues in Cleethorpes proved to be either closed, full of idiots, too noisy or carrying an odour reminiscent of an open sewer.

In total though, a really good day. Why the sore head? No, not the hangover that you're all expecting to read about, the drinking was maintained at a suitably modest level. No, it seems that despite the fact that I've sported a number one haircut since a charity head shave several years ago, I still haven't realised the importance of covering my head when I'm out in the sun all day...

Mad about Harry...

I see the young muggles were queuing for hours against all of the elements in order to be among of the first to get their hands on the last Harry Potter book, and why not. A bit of hype never hurt anyone and although I've never read the books, I have always enjoyed their transformation onto film. I heartily agree with a comment I heard yesterday that if it is encouraging our youth to get their noses stuck into books again then that can only be a good thing.

Why do we always have to take things too far though? I understand Childline have been put on alert to deal with thousands of potentially grieving children should one of the primary characters meet their demise in the last book. Now I'm sorry, but I'm afraid there are plenty of children suffering genuine terror and abuse in their lives that in my opinion come a little higher up the Childline priority list than someone who's read a sad story.

I suspect there are many out there who cried when Bambi's mother died, when Dumbo was being teased, or when E.T. went home, but I equally doubt that any of us suffered any long term psychological damage over it. There was always someone not too far away to dismiss it as "just a story".

Or, of course, everyone could save themselves the potential angst by Googling for "Deathly Hallows spoiler". I deliberately haven't linked - just sowed the seeds of temptation and left it up to you...

Tut, Tut, Tut...

This morning's BBC radio news headline was that our home secretary tried smoking pot when she was a student. By teatime, the state of the nation had plummeted yet further as we learnt that several of our cabinet ministers tried it when they were teenagers.

Headline news. Really. I tried it too when I was younger, haven't touched it for many years and it's about as relevant.

They should have questioned our ministers further - who knows what horrors may have been uncovered. Drinking alcohol before they were 18? Smoking cigarettes before they were 16? Sexual activity before the age of consent? Driving over the speed limit?

Surely there are more relevant activities going on throughout the world that we ought to be aware of. It seems to me that when there's nothing left to be said, someone in BBC news is preparing to say it.

And don't get me started on those bleeding Beckhams...

An explanation...

OK, perhaps the last post was a bit mean to anyone who happened to drop by at the wrong time so here's an idea of what I actually walked away with earlier this evening:



It's not the best of pictures but it will give you a rough idea until I get time to take a better one. Besides, have you ever tried taking a photo of your own right arm when you're right handed?

Unsurprisingly, I didn't want to settle for an off-the-shelf design so I took a standard template then added some other elements to represent religious belief, in a Celtic design because of my Gaelic name, a Celtic sun symbol, astrological (sun) symbols for all of my immediate family (and quite a few friends besides), my Chinese year of birth, an ancient symbol of eternity and a yin-yang for overall balance and harmony.

Sure, there are multiple interpretations to many of these symbols, but I guess in it's entirety it represents to me the importance of faith, family, friends and a sense of synergy.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to light some insense sticks put on some atmospheric music and contemplate what I'm going to have for my back piece...

Tat-two...

Finally the waiting is over. After nearly eighteen months since the last one and about four months since I joined the waiting list, I'm now the proud owner of my second tattoo.

Positioned on my upper right arm to balance out the first one, I sat for another three hours while Stewart worked his prerequisite magic on my grubby, folded, photocopied design and transformed it into something much more artistic, managing to capture everything I hoped he would.

I know it effects different people different ways, but I can honestly say that this one went far easier than the last one and the last one was hardly agonising. All I can say is that it was definitely worth putting up with a little discomfort and certainly well worth the wait.

What does it look like? Sorry, got to go now - the pizza man's just arrived with my tea. I'll see if I can get a photo on here later...

So, the cinema is cool...

Perhaps a bit too nippy actually, I think someone had gone a bit OTT on the aircon controls, but fortunately, I've been putting aside a few pounds of insulation for just such an occasion.

The verdict? Very good - my loss for the last twelve years I guess. Company was enjoyable as expected, but I was pleasantly surprised by the comfy seats, plenty of legroom and lack of unwanted noise from the audience (quite a result for a Sunday afternoon). The film was excellent - we decided on the latest Harry Potter offering. If you're reading this Little Sis, I'm sorry for beating you to it, but you have read the book so you've a good idea how it ends anyway.

Back to a day of normality in the office today but tomorrow sees a day off for my long awaited return to the studio for some additional inking a mere one year, five months and one day since the last one...

Flash, bang, whallop, water picture...

This weekend I'm off to the cinema. What am I watching? Not sure yet. Who am I taking? That would be telling. Anyway, the point is that I'm off to the pictures for the first time in a long time.

Admittedly, I didn't go for years because I dreaded the thought of sitting there for a couple of hours unable to light up a cigarette. Not really an excuse for the last two and a half years though.

The last time I went to cinema? Well Little Sis had just finished working at a shop and was having a leaving party to which she was kind enough to invite me and my mate Nick. OK, not everyone would drive over 260 miles for a party, but I can't help who I am. Seeing as the taxi fare home would have been a bit tasty for one night out, we made a weekend of it and on the following night all went to Port Solent where we decided to take in a film.

The other three really wanted to see some Batman rubbish or other, but I had bigger (wish I could say better) ideas - on one of the other screens was the most expensive movie ever made (at the time). I obviously made quite a convincing argument "Imagine how awesome this film must be if they've spent so many millions of dollars on it".

In the 12 years since, I've had to live under the shadow of guilt that I robbed them of two hours and sixteen minutes of their lives that they will never get back. All for the utter pile of shite that went by the name of Waterworld.

The nachos were excellent though...

Car trouble...

I get my fair share of funny text messages and although some of the filthiest are from the least likely sources, they are usually quite harmless and I'm quite happy to pass them on.

There was one from a couple of years ago that got me into a spot of bother but for no other reason than that I'd caused a moments unecessary concern.

So I really should have known better before I forwarded this one this morning:

I'm so pissed off - someone's just crashed into me with one of those new Skodas. There's fuckin' jam sponge and icing everywhere...

It so amused my poor brother-in-law that he decided to send it on, only to incurr the wrath of both his sister and mine - it seems they both received it at "just the wrong moment" and reacted before the message had truly sunk in.

Not that I'm laughing too loud - the girl who sent it to me last night told me she was doing so at the time but as I didn't use my phone again until the alarm went off this morning, I too suffered the very same momentary panic when I opened it...

So that's where I am...

I realise that it is Sunday morning and many people will be awaking to the revelation above, but can assure you that my weekend has remained alcohol and therefore hangover free.

A couple of weeks ago I was working with a couple of my European colleagues when they asked me a question I thought I really should have been able to answer. I had been creating a new customer profile on the system when it asked me for the two-letter country code. When "UK" was not recognised I said that I'm still not always sure which fields want "UK" or which required "GB".

At this point they asked "So what is the correct name - is it England, Great Britain, UK, what's the difference?". I explained that the United Kingdom, or UK, comprises of four countries, England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland.

"So what about Great Britain? Is that just another name for the UK?"
To my absolute shame, I thought that it probably was except that I've since learnt that Great Britain only refers to the largest island of the British Isles. Perhaps that's common knowledge, in which case, I'm not as common as I thought.

British Isles. Hmmm... now that could take some explaining and it seems that even Wikipedia is struggling to come to my rescue. It's probably better that I steer clear of that explanation entirely.

On a lighter note however, I see this morning that Google Earth have updated their images of my little part of the world so at least I can now clearly pick out the bungalow and see exactly where I am...