Help us to help you...

I posted back in March about a credit card company who appeared to prize themselves on lousy service and I can confirm without fear of contradiction that four months down the line they're showing no sign of improvement.

I've long given up on their internet banking service as it appears to be so secure that nobody on earth has a chance of accessing any information - possibly even their employees.

Having recently realised they're one of the few organisations I still pay the old fashioned way, I thought I'd throw caution to the wind and call them to set up a direct debit.

"Can I take your sixteen digit card number please?"
"And your name"
"And your postcode"
"And your memorable word"
"And your date of birth"
"And the first line of your address"
"Are you the primary cardholder on this account?"

By this time I was seriously hoping that it was Chris Tarrant putting on an Asian accent and was about to tell me my next question was worth 8000 quid.

In return for telling them my full address (in one entire answer this time) they promised to send out a direct debit mandate in the post some time over the next seven to ten days. When they received my completed mandate, they would then set up the direct debit sometime over the next six to eight weeks. Admittedly, I have an excellent payment record with them, but they did appear somewhat relaxed about setting up an automated payment facility.

Two weeks later (today), a letter arrived asking me to complete the attached mandate, including some parts marked "for office use only", then to return it in the enclosed pre-paid envelope, which wasn't enclosed. Yes, I know we're only talking about a 32p stamp and I should know better but I couldn't resist.

Back on the phone and after enough questions and answers to win another 4000 rupees, she has to go and ask someone whether she can send me a pre-paid envelope. After a while she re-appears to say she can't send the envelope without another mandate. I'm ashamed to say I was unable to stifle my laughter.

"OK we'll send those out to you. Can I help you with anything else"
"No thank you, you've been very [entertaining] helpful goodb..."
"It's just I can see that you qualify for..."
"Sorry, I'm going to have to interrupt you there. I'm not prepared to listen to your sales pitch for your wonderful offers when I'm paying national rate for the call. Thanks again. Goodbye."

If they want to tell me all about their wonderful products they can ring me. At least that way I can moan about invasion of privacy and tell them to sod off for free...

Lunch with a difference...

Before the meeting I had scheduled this afternoon, I took a stroll through the French quarter of New Orleans and after a brief wait in the subway, went on to find a seat on the deck of an ocean liner where I enjoyed my lunch.

Has Seany finally gone mad? Does he really believe the company will re-imburse such extravagant expenses? Surely not.

Worry not my dear readers, my meeting was in Manchester, not too far from the Trafford Park Shopping Centre. I'm still by no means a shopping fan but these would seem pleasant surroundings should the need be absolutely necessary. They have a small "street" fashioned in the design of the French Quarter of New Orleans leading to the main eating area which is in the shape of an ocean liner deck surrounded by a great selection of restaurants, bars and fast food counters. Including a Subway, one of the excellent sandwich bars.

Fine opportunity for a foot long "Subway Club" washed down with a cuppa and a chance to watch the world go by for half an hour...

More fun with food...

I've resisted the temptation to make another batch of crumpets this afternoon because as much as I really like them, they're a bit convenient to have lying around and they don't exactly encourage a healthy eating regime - well not by the time I've drowned them in butter & marmite.

This weekend's inspiration for kitchen tomfoolery came from Delcatto's post today which in turn was inspired by another superb barbie that John & Faith laid on for a few of us last night. He asks us about our favourite sausages which reminded me of some delicious lamb & rosemary sausages I had a few years ago.

My first thought was "must look out for some next time I'm food shopping" shortly followed by "I've already got lamb in the freezer & rosemary in the cupboard - how difficult can it be?"

My kitchen gadgets and food supplies, despite becoming increasingly diverse, don't yet run to fresh intestine or artificial casings let alone a sausage machine but I thought it would be fun to improvise.

So I whizzed together some lamb, rosemary, bread, garlic, salt, pepper and a drizzle of olive oil, wrapped & shaped it in clingfilm then left them in the fridge for 90 minutes to set.

The result? Well I had lamb & rosemary sausages, minted mash, peas & gravy for dinner and was too busy enjoying it to take a decent photo...

What rotten luck...

Someone who I'll not name (but you could possibly guess) recently told me a fine bad luck story that quite honestly, I can no longer resist the temptation of sharing.

I'm led to believe that one of the tipples of choice in Canada is Keith's which is brewed locally (to them) in Halifax, Nova Scotia.



As a popular beer, it is backed up with a popular advertising campaign, pulling strongly on it's Scottish roots and seldom passing up the chance to cash in on a good stereotype with a kilted, heavily accented character, raving about the beer being "the pride of Nova Scotia". If my understanding is correct, this character's popularity would rank equally with our Captain Birdseye.

Imagine the delight then when this friend of mine won an all expenses paid trip, flying out to Halifax, put up in a good hotel, a trip round the brewery and a chance to meet the famous "Scot" in person. As anybody would, he went to town buying tee shirts, getting autographs and having his photo taken with the character, keen to get back to his local and show off his wares to the regulars.

Then the actor who played the part of the Scot unexpectedly gets arrested on child porn charges...

An apple a day...

You have to hand it to the Irish, they certainly know a thing or two when it comes to alcoholic beverages. Aside from stereotypical consumption of them, they are also responsible for creating some of the best out there.

Obviously, there's the black stuff.



Out there on it's own as a unique beer with a worldwide reputation for a good pint. I've never made a secret of the fact that I'm quite partial to a pint or two.

Then of course there's the whiskey.



I'm not about to be drawn into whether Irish is better than Scotch, whether whiskey is better than whisky, or who actually invented it first. Quite frankly, I don't care, I've tried lots of both and whatever your preference, the Irish are clearly very good at it.

Then last night, I sucumbed to the recent advertising and on a warm summer evening in need of a cool refreshing drink I tried the Magners Irish Cider.



It was so good, I had to try quite a few more and yet here I am at 6:30 Saturday morning, wide awake and with a clear head. I wonder if I can count these towards my five portions of fruit per day?

I can't believe this is all down to the luck of the Irish. Is there no end to their alcohol creating talent? I sincerely hope not...

The End of the Road...

Keep right on to the end of the road
Keep right on to the end
Though the way be long, let your heart be strong,
Keep right on round the bend
Though you're tired and weary, still journey on
'Till you come to your happy abode
Where all you love and you're dreaming of
Will be there at the end of the road

Today marks the anniversary of a very sad day in the history of Seany. I have eluded to this story very briefly before, but I feel today is a fitting day for the full version. It was on this day, 22 years ago (gulp) that I faced a journey to Milton Keynes Bowl to watch my rock heroes perform live on stage for the very last time.

We had always planned to see them again after enjoying their show so much a couple of years earlier, but when Status Quo announced that although they wanted to carry on recording, this would be their last ever tour, we were understandably mortified. It was indeed time for drastic action and we decided to get ourselves to as many dates on the tour as was possible given available funds at the time (which strangely enough don't seem to have changed much in 22 years despite my salary being significantly different).

Obviously, the entire tour was considerably bigger, but we made it to the following dates:
Tuesday 5th June - De Montfort, Leicester
Tuesday 19th June - Bridlington Spa
Wednesday 20th June - Bridlington Spa (yes, the next night!)
Saturday 14th July - Selhurst Park (Farewell London Concert)
Saturday 21st July - Milton Keynes Bowl (Farewell C0ncert)

As part of the souvenir campaign I kept my tickets and picked up the tour programme, at least 5 t-shirts and a tour jacket; all of which I still have today and are for the best part in excellent condition. Maybe worth something one day I suppose.

We'd seen some interesting support acts along the way too:
Chas n Dave - real good fun & know how to get a crowd singing
Little Steven & The Disciples of Soul - hmmm...
Phil Lynot's Grand Slam - very good but I wish I'd seen Thin Lizzy
Dave Edmunds - another hero ticked on my "must see" list
Jason & the Scorchers - hmmm...
Nazareth - great live band
Gary Glitter - superb entertainer, despicable individual
Marillion - to my mind at their best with Fish (and I've seen both)

The farewell concert itself sticks in my mind as if it were yesterday. The air heavy with emotion and anticipation, not to mention the smell of denim, leather, sweat, beer & juana marrows. The background music stopped (always heavy metal for some reason) and we heard the now familiar pom-pom-pom-pom intro to the End of the Road song. Then the bright blue spotlight appeared to the left of the stage, in steps Rick Parfitt and away he goes, hammering out the opening chords to Caroline. Everyone goes crazy and quite rightly - cue one of the best rock sets of all time. In the later numbers we realised that the enormous speaker stacks and the stage were surrounded by lights spelling out the letters Q-U-O. Obligatory fireworks to finish and quite frankly, it's no surprise the video went on to be the fastest selling music video - everyone wanted to keep a bit of that forever.



Excellent concert indeed.
Of course, I've seen them perform live half a dozen times since...

Good day...

Today was a good day. There you go, I said it. Well, typed it.

~ Pleasant journey to & from the office
~ Lovely weather (even in Scunthorpe)
~ I deposited a nice cheque in the bank courtesy of my last employer
~ We had a productive managers meeting
~ I've been offered a genuinely exciting new challenge at work
~ Best of all, I found this joke amongst my archives that gave me a good laugh. Hope you don't mind my sharing, but they do say the old ones are the best

So this guy goes into the blacksmiths looking for a job.
The blacksmith says "Have you any experience in shoeing horses?"
"No", he replied, "but I did tell a donkey to fuck off once"...

In the balance...

You can't escape it; well I certainly can't. Every way I turn the delicate balance of life comes into play.



Describe it as you will. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Every cloud has a silver lining. A great night out is invariably followed by a less than great waking up (although the milk thistle helps). I can handle a good few beers compared to many, but that means carrying around this less than lightweight frame. My car is a decent one (although certainly nothing flash), but I pay the price of having little scrotes vandalise it from time to time. Like most people, I like to complain about a bad day at work but I get a reasonable salary in return.

I suppose the point I'm trying to get to, is that having managed to find myself a lovely bungalow on the outskirts of town which is only a block away from miles of open fields, I shouldn't be at all surprised to walk out into the garden on one of the hottest evenings of the year to be met with the delightful aroma of animal shit.

And yes, it was coming from outside...

Well if you must know...

There have been a few enquiries of late regarding the fate of the carrot tops I so caringly nurtured into plants at the beginning of the year.

So today is unveiling day. You can probably gather that the results were a little different than I expected as there isn't a full colour photo on display within the text here. That said, the greenery had achieved the respectable height of 16 inches so I believe it was reasonable of me to expect the resultant vegetable to be of decent proportions rather than these rather sad looking specimens.

Stopped laughing yet? Me too, just. So what have we learnt from this exercise? Well clearly you can grow carrots from carrot tops and if you're lucky, you may even get three carrots from one top. I can also confirm that they taste as good as any other carrots I've tasted too.

Overall, I think the biggest lesson to be learnt is that it's hardly worth waiting seven months when at 64p a kilo it's easier to nip out to Tesco...

A little of what you fancy...

Last night was one of those excellent impromptu occasions.

Arrived home from work early and as I had to get into town to get my specs fixed, it seemed like as good an excuse as any to pop into the Tap for a beer and have a bite of tea with Mum.

Started fairly quiet and shortly after our meal we even discussed calling it a night as nobody seemed to be out. Then they came, from all directions, loads of the regulars who I'd not seen for quite some time. It turned out to be an excellent night out with much catching up done with the obligatory swilling of ale.

Just before mid-day, I'm now unsurprisingly asking myself who'll be in there this afternoon. Only one way to find out I suppose - so as Delcatto would say, TTFN...

And on that note...

For some inexplicable reason this morning I arose at the crack of dawn and had an irresistable urge to have a good thrash. Not that you filthy minded individuals, I mean I unpacked this for the first time since I moved house:



I must have spent a good hour playing around loads of old favourite riffs and quite honestly I'd forgotten how much fun it is. Especially with the assistance of this:



I suppose whilst I'm showing off my musical wares, I also ought to include my much loved (yet recently neglected) acoustic



In fact, if you know where to look, there is a rare photo on here somewhere of me on stage singing and playing that one.

Back to this morning, in the interest of keeping the neighbours happy, the outputs were restricted to my headphones. I've said before how I don't particularly like playing in front of an audience so playing straight to the headphones suits me just fine.

OK, I know it's good to share, but I've shared the story with you all haven't I...

Glad that's over...

Alan Titchmarsh I ain't.

I got home from work this evening and without pausing to think, got changed into scruffs and spent an hour mowing the front & back lawns and clearing weeds from the paths, drive & patio.

You have to know me in the other (non-blog) world to comprehend my utter contempt for all things gardening and usually it would fall lower on my "things I enjoy" list than a saline eyewash, but there I was. And so far, that's been the highlight of my day.

Gives you some appreciation of the sort of day it's been...

Teatime...

What better way of unwinding afer a day at work than a decent cuppa, half a pound of butter,a giant jar of Marmite and a box of 12 fresh crumpets?

OK, perhaps I didn't but I can't say it didn't cross my mind...

Quite an evening...

A couple of months ago I posted about a crowd blocking the road who wouldn't let me get past in the car and my dilemma as to the most appropriate way to proceed. Well, I keep hearing one of them in the neighbourhood and I've suspected since that he has been watching the house.

Thankfully, I've finally managed to get a picture of him in action and I'm prepared to use it as evidence if it gets that far. You can can see the picture here - let me know if you think you recognise him. Click here to read the original post.


Onto more serious (?!) matters, I've had a lovely bit of crumpet tonight. "About time too Seany" I hear the cries, but they would be wrong; I'm not on the brink of relinquishing my much treasured singledom.

In my humble opinion, one of the best morning goods available is the crumpet, or pikelet, or whatever you want to call it, but either way, they look like this:



What makes these particularly special to me is that I made them myself this evening, with no help from the magic white box I hasten to add. To my absolute amazement they look (and taste) like real ones although you haven't seen the experimental forerunners that didn't quite make it to the photo shoot...

Recommended reading...

Yes I know it's the World Cup and Wimbledon Finals today but I'm staying true to my heartfelt indifference to either. Having frittered half of the day away asleep, I have few plans for anything that requires much more effort for the rest of the day.

On my cyber travels a little earlier I stumbled across The Straight Dope; a collection of answers to all of those questions you really wanted to know but were afraid to ask (out loud at least) and a great source for shattering urban myths. Just follow the link above or on the left and you too can discover:

How they get non-stick Teflon to stick to the pan
The origin of the F-word
What blind people dream of
Whether fanning yourself is energy efficient
What "corned" beef is (although I'd already covered that one here)

In addition, I found it really funny to read some of the utter rubbish that some people had been told and felt the need to verify in the interest of getting back to sleep at night.

Nobody has asked when sliced bread became the best thing though - looks like I beat them to that one...

What if...

At the tender age of 20, I was faced with my first redundancy. What horror - I thought that was a fate reserved for old men and yet, here I was just starting out on my career in retail management, called into the office on my way home one Friday evening and handed the fateful letter. It wasn't even signed, just full of "blah, blah, centralisation", "blah, blah, regret to inform you", "blah, blah, thanks for everything, now sod off and find something else to do". Oh, and did I mention that it was just before Christmas? Although understandably peeved at the time, it was to prove the turning point in my career and set me off on the road which eventually led to where I am today (not far, some would say).

My first office job was at a local printing firm where I have to admit, my chances were probably helped by the fact that the M.D. was my Godfather. Initially I took the job of receptionist as a "filler" until something better came along but my Office Manager there was probably a greater inspiration to me at the time than I've ever made known to him. Not too occupied (or interested) in reception duties, I soon busied myself learning how to look after the accounts, prepare quotes & costings, develop my Sales and Customer Service skills; all the time generally learning the other tools (chores) of the admin trade.

Before long, I still had time on my hands (as did my Manager) and as a result, we would fill this time playing "what if?". I'm not talking about some childish imaginary game; more of "I wonder how we could make the month end routines less of a chore? What if...?" A train of thought that resulted in us writing a program to link the various routines together and save hours of work. Which left more time to think "What if...?"

I've carried on that theme ever since, both in and outside of work. Not that there's ever been the same amount of spare time since, but whenever the time has been available, I would adopt the same principle to find my way around Microsoft Office or understanding html code or even servicing and repairs around the house. I'm often asked "Where did you learn this stuff?" and the answer is simple, I taught myself through the trial and error process of the "What if..." game.

Give it a go - what have you got to lose*? Just remember to backup the existing copy or makes notes & drawings of whatever you're working on first! Something else I learned (the hard way) by playing the game...


* Disclaimer: this suggestion implies use of a modicum of common sense, e.g. "What if I washed my hair with battery acid instead of shampoo?" is a silly notion and this blogger accepts no responsibility for such actions.**

** I know I shouldn't have to say this but you never know...

The best thing since...

By complete chance this morning, I think I've stumbled across the answer to one of life's great questions. Well, maybe just something I've sometimes thought about.

The breadmaker I bought a few months ago is still regularly churning out top quality loaves, but I find that it freezes better when sliced. Not too great a task with the aid an electric carving knife but I thought I'd have a look around to see how much a proper bread slicer would cost. Added to which, the ability to create slices of consistent width may prevent me from "accidentally" leaving ultra thick crusts to snack on.

During my wanderings through Google I learnt that The Chillicothe Baking Company in Missouri unveiled a new machine that sliced bread on 7th July 1928.

Still I don't suppose the phrase "best thing in the last 78 years as of yesterday" will catch on to the same extent. Especially as you won't be able to use it again after today...

All creatures great and small...

I've tried my best to enjoy an evening at home tonight. The pub's kitchen was closed today following some damage from last night's storms so instead of going out for tea I did the next best thing and rang out to a newly discovered pizza company. Very nice too.

It's not been much fun at work this week so I thought tea could be accompanied by the remains of a bottle of white wine from the fridge but first taste indicated it had long since passed it's best. Found a half full (half empty?) box of red wine in the cupboard - unfortunately not even fit for serving over chips. Undeterred, I enjoyed my pizza in the company of Mr Daniels (no, not the vertically challenged magician).

Lots of throwing out z's in the general direction of Big Brother on the TV and trying to resolve a couple of blog issues for Cherrypie, it would have been a pleasant evening were it not for these critters



I don't like killing the things so I try where possible to deal with them humanely (or cranefly-ely) but by the time I'd got rid of about the 5th one within half an hour, the novelty of leaping about with a glass tumbler and a postcard was starting to wear thin. It's too dark to leave the lights off and too hot to close the windows and I've a nice collection of suitable aerosols in the kitchen cupboard on standby.

I guess if nothing else, I'm clocking up a few karma points in the meantime. My name is Seany...

Watch your step...

There's been much publicity recently around continued efforts to protect our environment and I grew curious to find out exactly what my carbon footprint was (other than a dirty great black size 10).



I'm clear on what it means, but now thanks to the BP Carbon Footprint Calculator, you can measure your own. Mine works out at approx. 7 tonnes of CO2 per year, which I'm pleased to say is less than the UK average of 9.85.

And that's not counting the CO2 of wasted breath I spout at work five days a week...

You learn something new every day...

Tonight I learnt that it is a seven minute walk from home to my nearest pub and amazingly, it's taken me over seven months to discover this fact.

An old school mate of mine (who also happens to be the Service Manager where my car has gone for an MOT tonight) offered me a lift home and the least I could do was treat him to a couple of pints for his trouble.

So, it's seven minutes away, has a nice friendly teatime atmosphere and they have three "real" ales on. At four and a half quid for a pint of lager (not mine,obviously) and a pint something that claimed to be Taylors Landlord it was a case of right place at the right time but I'm far from sold yet. I'm sure the other two "ales" (nothing memorable, probably Tetley & London Pride) would have tasted just as innocuous, but given that I have to be up early tomorrow to get a lift into work, I didn't dare chance getting a taste for any of it.

So, the old Tap may still be a modest bus trip/taxi ride away, but on tonight's evidence it's still worth the journey...

Light headed...

Strange thing happened to me on the way to... well, on the way to the bathroom actually.

I got up to attend to a call of nature and recognising that it was dark (smart bloke, me) instinctively reached my left hand out behind me to turn on the light switch outside the bathroom door. Except that there isn't one there. In fact, there wasn't one in the last place I lived either. (Incidentally, that one was activated by a PIR sensor which was pretty cool but that's a story for another day). The light switch I was subconsciously searching for actually belonged to the house I sold over four years ago. How odd.

So with room adequately lit, I did what I had to do (sorry folks - find your own links, I'm not into that kind of entertainment thanks) then went to flush the loo and with instinct on fine form, reached out to grab the lightswitch pull cord. It must be over 25 years since I lived anywhere where you had to pull a chain to flush the loo. What was I thinking of?

Before you ask, my body was completely free of alcohol or any other mind-altering substances for that matter. Maybe it's some kind of reverse deja visite phenomenon where I knew where I was but it felt like somewhere else that I actually had been to before.

I have absolutely no idea what was going through my mind. For that matter, I have to ask myself what on earth was going through my mind when I thought this might be a story worth sharing...

Well it sounded good...

I can say with a higher than average degree of confidence that you will never hear the comment "Hey, did you see that excellent recipe on Seany's cookery programme last night?" But, being a bloke, a lazy one at that, and one with not much time to faff about in the kitchen of an evening, I still like to make an effort now and then.

Tonight, I got in a little earlier than usual and attempted to rustle up something quick, tasty and reasonably healthy for supper tonight which resulted in a mini treasure hunt through the freezer and cupboards.

"Aubergine? Yeah that's been there a few days, I'll slice that up, season it, drizzle with olive oil and shove it under the grill."

Search continues.

"Chicken breast - that'll do. Season and shove that under the grill as well. Saves on washing up (or filling dishwasher too early in week)"

Bit dry though. Search goes on.

"Tarragon! I'd forgotten I'd got that. OK then, white sauce, shove some tarragon in last minute to liven up the flavour, pour over the lot and job's a good 'un"

The result? Looked delicious. The smell was fantastic. The taste was aboslutely... erm... alright I suppose. Have to work on that one I guess. I hate it when that happens...

Now for some good news...

With any hopes of any English sports people achieving anything of note fading way into the distance, it would have been a great opportunity for someone to come up with some good news for a change. Thanks then to Steve and Mel who returned from their trip to London and announced that they will be getting married next August!



He is indeed a lucky chap as Mel is a very attractive, friendly, genuinely lovely girl and Steve is, well... Steve. Only kidding mate! (he types, in the hope that you've finally re-discovered the blog again!). Joking aside, I genuinely wish you both the very best and look forward to celebrating with you both next year.

"Hi, can I book a taxi please? Where to? Toronto"...

Slow down...

We do struggle for local TV evening news around here. The ITV contribution for our region is Calendar but unless you live in deepest Yorkshire, there's no news for these here eastern parts. The only alternative is BBC's Look North which, rather like Big Brother, is so dreadfully bad that it makes compelling viewing.

In the interest of balance, I ought to clarify that I'm only referring to the evening news - the morning bulletins are much more informative, delivered in a friendly style by Hannah, Jenny or Caroline (sorry - couldn't find a Caroline photo to link to) and even at the unearthly time of the day I'm getting ready to leave the house, they are all quite pleasing on the eye.

Tonight's hard-hitting headline-grabbing bombshell was their claim that a new report from the BMJ implies that perhaps speed cameras aren't as effective at reducing road accidents as the police would have you believe.

Firstly I had a quick look at the abstract here and can't say I agree with the Look North interpretation. It looks to me like another costly investigation to establish nothing in particular whatsoever, but I'll let you draw your own conclusions.

So, back to this evening's debacle and our BBC crew had set off on a quest that would give the grail hunters a run for their money and tried to find some local motorists who had something to say against speed cameras. Hilarity ensues...

My name's Bill and I've just got three points because of a speed camera

My name's Tom and I've just got three points because of a speed camera

My name's Mike and I've just got three points because of a speed camera

And so on. Ad nauseum.

Not to be picky, but they didn't get points because of a speed camera; they got them because they were driving too fast past the things.

Fair play, I'm sure we've all crept a little over the limit in our time but if you're unlucky enough to get caught, or not alert enough to spot them in advance and slow down then it's not really the machine's fault is it?

But thanks to Look North and their intrepid team of journalists, there can be no room for doubt that if you do drive past one of them too quickly, you stand a good chance of getting a speeding ticket and your license endorsed with points.

A valuable lesson for us all there then...

Seriously funny...

OK, enough waffle about my penchant for a pop or two, put the speculation of our footballing chances on hold for a while, don't even mention Tim Henman - the moment's passed already. I've just taken delivery of my Janet & John CD.



For the uninitiated, Terry Wogan reads out these stories from time to time that parody the Janet & John childrens' books but are absolutely littered with double entendres. Fair enough, I accept that my description does them absolutely no justice whatsoever but ask anyone who's heard any of them and they'll confirm how incredibly funny they are. Frankly, I'm amazed at times that some of them managed to get broadcast on a breakfast show.

However, the real highlight and the reason I'm telling you all about it here is that all of the proceeds are going towards the Children in Need appeal. The last I heard, they'd sold in excess of 60,000 copies at a tenner each - that's six hundred thousand quid raised!!!

It's a bloody funny CD, well worth ten pounds of anybody's money and you're making a decent charitable contribution to boot so get yourselves to this site and order yourself a copy.

In fact, whether you buy one or not, please use the same page to join the campaign to get a dispensation from the VAT levy and ensure all of the money raised is directed where it is intended...

Stick to what you're good at...

Completely out of the blue, I got a phone call yesterday afternoon from Steve saying that he and Mel were over from Toronto for a couple of weeks and asking whether I fancied joining them for a drink or two that evening.

Well you know how it is, my drinking skills are not what they used to be of late, and on a school night too, I really ought to decline. However, if they've travelled 3,500 miles then the least I can do is join them both to catch up on happenings across the pond and show off my new-found skills of drinking like a complete wuss.

As it turned out, apparently this was not to be; well certainly not the latter. Sure, we all went out and had a great night. Lots of laughs, some excellent live music thanks to the Tap Acoustic Culture regulars, plenty of catching up, all accompanied by generous quantities of ale - yes, Seany the beer monster is back. A gallon down, home just the safe side of midnight and still up with the larks in time to get to work early this morning with a completely clear head. Bearing in mind the weekend ahead, I'm not sure if this is a good sign or not.

I was once advised that once you've discovered something you're good at, you should stick to it - well that would certainly explain why I like to drink and sleep so much...

Bring it on...

The world cup tournament continues and try as I might, I can't turn my back on it. Between that and the continuing exploits in the Big Brother house, it's a wonder I get to see daylight at all.

You have probably gathered by my occasional business trips to Porto that there is a significant Portuguese influence in the company I work for and although I missed last night's match, I discovered this morning that Portugal beat Holland and will now face us in the quarter finals on Saturday. Which isn't a "school night". And it is the day after pay day. Oh dear, I can already see a picture of this weekend's events unfolding before me.

My mate Steve is helping me to move some shelving on Saturday morning and the least I can do is take him out for a beer or two afterwards to say thank you. By the time we've had a couple of pints, we'll probably need something to eat and before you know it, the big screen's down, the red and white attired locals are assembled and it would be just rude to leave too early.

I never thought I'd hear myself say this but it's not just about football anymore...

Nice day for it...

So England are through to the quarter finals and whilst watching the match I enjoyed a delicous plate full of pork in ginger & spring onion, of my own making I hasten to add. Another weekend off the pop (I was drinking shandy at Friday night's party in case you were wondering) and all of the weekly chores completed and a couple more besides.

So why "nice day"? Well possibly not but now I can check exactly how nice (as can you) by means of the Metcheck link I've added to the blog template this evening.

OK, even in June we're bound to be destined for wind, rain or possibly snow around these parts, but at least I can get an indication of how deep it's likely to get and how soon...

It's only a model...

Just over a year ago, I posted with pride on the discovery that Legoland Windsor had recreated some of Grimsby's best known landmarks in Lego.

I've always been a fan of Lego and that trip did little to sway my judgement otherwise. However, for a work of pure genius, take a look at this video recreating the entire Camelot song from Monty Python's Holy Grail.

Impressive eh? Apparently it was made five years ago so I'm surprised I've not stumbled across it before. Full credit to the people responsible (probably some of those lucky folk who get paid for playing with the stuff all day).

If you're looking for more on a similar theme (go on, you know you want to), check out these.

'Tis indeed a silly place...

A few more kind words...

While I'm still on a roll from the previous post, I've got a couple more special mentions.

Firstly, I went to a party last night for an old (well thirty now) work mate of mine - this seems to be the year for surprise parties. It was great catching up even though I could only stay for a couple of hours. If you're looking in Bri, hope you enjoyed the rest of the party and thanks again to Helen for the invitation.

Secondly, I got in last night to find a message on the answerphone from Little Sis to say she has succesfully completed her exams and final assignment, which means she is now a fully qualified teacher. I think it takes a lot of guts to quit your job and put your whole life on hold to pursue something you've always wanted to do and I'm glad it's paid off for them all.

On the chance in a million you've actually decided to catch up on the blog, I'll go on record to say well done Little Sis, I'm proud of you...

Many thanks...

Wow! So soon after my last message of this nature and here we are again with the counter registering another 1000 hits. What can I say? And what's so special about the number nine?

In my tyically tenuous manner, I'll go the fact that "nine" in English sounds like the German word for "no" so I will proceed to thank you all in nine languages:



I hope you get the message!
Please keep looking in, if for no other reason than to see what happens if it reaches 10,000...

As the nights draw in...

So today marks the summer solstice and therefore, the longest day of the year. Well I don't know about you but mine's certainly been a bloody drag.

I'm never entirely sure whether I should be marking the occasion because after all, for the next six months I'll have to find a diminishing number of excuses every day for not getting things done in the remaining daylight hours. Not that I'm accountable to anyone other than myself but I have to self justify my natural laziness sometimes.

It so happens that the neighbours are away today so perhaps I should erect a monilith in the back garden and although I've missed this morning's opportunity, I could convey my thanks for all things earthly by dancing around joyfully (suitably dressed or otherwise) as the longest day draws to a close.

Somewhat reminiscent of one of the council complaints letters that Jasper Carrott used to read out in his show "I'm writing to complain about the man next door who has an unsightly erection in his garden"...

En-ger-land...

So here I am again, adorned in appropriate shirt, alcohol free (so far), poised to watch the match and already bored to tears with the hour's worth of pre-match waffle. What's the temperature in the stadium? What do the pundit's think of Sven's selection? Where does Becks get his toothpaste from? Will Rooney start? If so, on whom?

We're through to the next round whatever tonight's result but apparently this match is important because we haven't beat the Swedes since I was two. Oh, and if we win or draw this one then the next one will be against Ecuador instead of Germany. Is that supposed to be a walkover? Did they overlook the fact that Ecuador will also have made it far as we have? They're even predicting the whole tournament so far as to claim that if we score this, then that, then the other, the first tough game we get will be the final against Argentina. Hmmm... not exactly convinced yet.

I'm really trying to get into the spirit of it all, honest, but I wish they'd just cut the bullshit and get on with it...

So tired...

I'm concerned that I may have been exposed to the alcohol equivalent of kryptonite as I seem to have lost my beer drinking super-powers.

Si Nichols made a welcome return to the Tap on Friday night and as expected, gave us all a great night's entertainment. Whilst in there, it would have been rude to pass up the chance of a good meal and a few ales which seemed non-excessive at the time, although I've been absolutely knackered since waking up Saturday morning.

I've still managed to get all of the necessary stuff done but if I sit down for more than five minutes, the next thing I know, I'm fast asleep. Perhaps [he hopes] it's not at all beer related and just a symptom of the incredibly warm weather we're enjoying right now, which I'm certainly not about to start complaining about.

I've been meaning to take five minutes aside to look up narcolepsy but... zzz... zzz... zzz...

All for one...

Did I mention that I'm not a huge football fan? Oh yes, all the time and it still stands. I wasn't particularly bothered that I couldn't get away from the office in time to watch the start of this afternoon's England match but I did get to listen to the first half in the car and enjoy the journey on unusually quiet roads. I have to say that the radio commentary was less than flattering of our team's performance and I didn't feel inspired to get my foot to the floor to get home any sooner.

Home by the end of the first half, I threw some ingredients together for tea and left them bubbling away whilst I superstitiously put on my England "home" shirt, turned on the box and perched in front of it with a cuppa. Yep, the radio commentary was pretty spot on and I was not witnessing a team who looked likely to pass the group stages let alone win the tournament. (That said, I thought Brazil put on a pretty lacklustre show against Croatia on Tuesday too).

Like most people I know, I've been getting pretty fed up of late with the constant jabbering on about Rooney's broken metatarsal and how the nation's hopes are resting on his speedy recovery (which incidentally seemed to pick up a pace quite remarkably in this last week). However, in my naive little world of football ignorance, I had no idea that his team mates were completely reliant on his recovery too.

From the moment he stepped over the sideline this afternoon, we changed from a piss-poor half-interested bunch to a team who believed they might actually achieve something; 34 minutes and two goals later they had done. England are through to the next round. Great I suppose, but why did they leave it so late to get their act together? Why should it all be down to one individual's mere presence let alone contribution?

As I keep saying, it's a good job I'm not in the slightest bit interested in football...

Lazy blogging...

Every now and then my blogging muse abandons me (some would suggest more often than not) and as tonight is one such occasion, I'd like to share one of my favourite e-mails with you - all alledgedly genuine quotes taken from GCSE English essays:

1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a tumble dryer.

3. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.

4. McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a paper bag filled with vegetable soup.

5. Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.

6. Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the centre.

7. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

8. He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.

9. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

10. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left York at 6:36 p.m. travelling at 55 mph, the other from Peterborough at 4:19p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

11. The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the full stop after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.

12. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

13. The thunder was ominous sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.

14. The red brick wall was the colour of a brick-red crayon.

15. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long it had rusted shut.

16. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

17. The plan was simple, like my mate Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.

18. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for while.

19. "Oh, Jason, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving like a student on 31p-a-pint night.

20. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

21. Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter."

22. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

23. The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a lamppost.

24. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free cashpoint.

25. The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating electric fan set on medium.

26. It was a working class tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with their power tools.

27. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a dustcart reversing.

28. She was as easy as the Daily Star crossword.

29. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature British beef.

30. She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.

31. Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a first-generation thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightened.

32. It hurt, the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.

Do you know, I dont really care if they're genuine or not, but I find it in my e-mail archives every now and again and it always makes me laugh...

Easily forgotten...

How easy it was to sit here all smug and gloat to the world how easy it is to lay of the ale for a few weeks. It's even more fun announcing to everyone how you've every intention of picking it up from where you left off and going back into beer monster mode.

How could I possibly have been so dumb to forget the slightly less fun you can endure the next day? Since discovering real ale all those years ago, I've never been one to suffer from hangovers, especially when suitably dosed to the eyeballs with milk thistle, but I suppose it's fair to say I was a little out of practise. As a result, it's also fair to say that Friday evening's little sojourn chez Tap was hardly preparation for the marathon session that Saturday held in store.

I'm told the weather was superb yesterday, but I didn't see any of it. In fact I'm still quite certain that had I been accompanied by someone suitably qualified, I could well have been pronounced clinically dead for much of yesterday.

On the plus side, all ill-effects have long since disappeared just like old times and I can barely remember the performance of our World Cup winning wannabees...

Splat...

I never really was any good at onomatopoeia, but that is supposed to be the sound of me falling of the wagon last night and although the health-kick is going well, I'm still a long way from wafting down from anything.

Yes folks, after five weeks I was re-acquainted with my old friend the Hobgoblin last night and I'm ashamed to admit that it was rather like bumping into an old friend. Strictly speaking, it's not been completely alcohol free for the past five weeks but I did last from 6th May to 5th June without a beer, with only a couple of glasses of wine in between to accompany the Sunday dinner I cooked for everyone the day after Mum's birthday.

The trip to Porto was relatively uneventful beer-wise although we did manage a couple of nice meals washed down with a two or three glasses of Super Bock, which even in the stout variety, doesn't count as real beer in my world. It was nice to escape from the hotel this time and see a bit more of Porto - clearly a city still going through significant re-development but quite charming in places all the same. Other than that the time was consumed either in a particularly drawn out and fruitless meeting or sat in airport lounges honing my su doku solving skills.

So, I hope you've all been keeping well while I've been away - I'll be catching up with everyone's blogs in between the world cup matches. Yes, I know I don't particularly like football but somehow I've managed to amass six England football tops so I ought to get myself down to the pub and do my bit to support the lads.

Peer pressure is a terrible thing...

Not so Big Brother...

[in dubious Geordie accent] Day 24 in the Big Seany house...

I've already admitted within comments on Delcattos blog that I've found this year's Big Brother more compelling than any sane person ought to so I'm not about to go over that old ground again.

No, I'm just here to gloat update on the results of the new healthy regime before I disappear on my travels for a few days (where quite honestly I'm destined to go at least a little astray).

It wouldn't surprise you to read that I've managed to stay of the cigarettes for another 16 days over the big 500. I'm sure it would surprise you to know that it's four weeks since I've had a beer. However, what really surprised me is that in the last 24 days I've managed to lose over 4kgs! Not eating any less, just an hour's exercise every weekday morning and what little alcohol I have enjoyed has been in the form of the occasional glass of wine rather than battleship-floating quantities of ale.

It's going to be tough keeping the momentum over the next week or so whilst I'm visiting family and then nipping across to Portugal to enjoy some 5 star hospitality either end of a particularly long and arduous meeting.

Tough indeed, but somebody has to do it...

Story time...

We were told a story once at school about a woman who complained to a wise man that her house was too small and his remedy was to suggest that she took one of his chickens home for a few days to see if it made any difference.

Unsurprisingly, she returned shortly afterwards saying that she didn't see how this was meant to improve matters and in return he asked that she also look after one of his goats.

Still unhappy the following day, he asked her to look after one of his pigs aswell. Somewhat confused she reluctantly agreed once again.

Returning to complain for a 4th time, the wise man asked her to look after one of his cows and despite her initial agreement, she was soon back to the old man again demanding that he had done nothing to help and that he explain his ridiculous actions.

The wise old man took her back to her house, rounded up his chicken, goat, pig and cow and took them all back home with him, at which point the woman suddenly realised how large her house had suddenly become.


Don't get me wrong, I'm not in any way comparing any of my family with farmyard animals, but the bungalow certainly seems huge this afternoon...

Quick hello...

You may have noticed that posts have been a bit thin on the ground this week, well there is good reason and it's not all down to ISP limitations early on.

It's Mum's birthday tomorrow and I'd planned a meal out for her in the evening followed by some serious "falling off wagon" on my part. Little Sis rang on Tuesday night with the better idea that they all come up to spend the weekend at mine and call in to surprise Mum. Except that they can't get here any earlier than the time we'd planned to go out to eat!

Cue frantic topping up of food cupboards/freezer at home and shifting everything too fragile out two year old nephew reach, not to mention a good clean and tidy up all round. So we're all set, out for a meal at teatime as planned, little Sis will arrive early evening and "unexpectedly" walk into the pub; no doubt lots of smiles, hugs and tears all round. We'll all leave the pub shortly afterwards (as we'll want to see the kiddies and of course, their dad), spend the evening catching up and then all seven of us are at mine the next day for a roast beef Sunday lunch.

There'll be little chance to go far when everyone's gone home on Monday and the following weekend I'm making the return journey down south, followed by a quick business trip to Portugal for a couple of days.

So all in all, it's now looking like it could be a five week break before I get re-acquainted with my old friend the Hobgoblin, but I think it's a price worth paying...

Of Mousse and Men...

It'll have to be a quick post tonight before the internet service goes AWOL again whilst ntl carry out local services and repairs. Never mind, I'm sure they'll reimburse us all for any downtime incurred.

The office talk this afternoon turned to a documentary someone had recently seen about mousse, or meesse, or mousses, well you know, those big caribou-esque creatures with antlers. The curiosity was that apparently when two mousse mousses meesse of them prepare to fight for dominance, they first assess their chances according to the size of their opponents antlers and if they are bigger than their own, they are less likely to go into battle.

Sounds reasonable enough. What we couldn't understand is how they can see how big their own antlers are...

Cheeky b...

OK, first I have to admit that this is a cheat - I didn't actually have internet access tonight so I'll type it tomorrow, change the post date to yesterday and then everyone will think I'm posting it tonight. Ahem...

You won't believe what I'm about to tell you as it is so absolutely ridiculous, but it is true.

Mum went to unlock their front door early Saturday morning but found herself struggling with the handle. No matter how she tried, the handle seemed to be making no attempt to control the mechanism within. It soon came to light that this was because somebody had stolen their external front door handle. Some cheeky little fuckhound saw fit to carefully remove the four screws holding it in place and made off with a manky brass coloured (but all the same fully functioning) door handle. They live on a busy main road too so I'm guessing that unless these cretins were even more spaced out than I'm already assuming, they also removed it during the night - in the dark.

See, I said you wouldn't believe me...

Oh Lordi Lordi...

I can't remember the last time I stayed in and watched the Eurovision Song Contest but if you take it at absolute face value, it's quite a laugh.

The theme for (normal) costumes this year seemed to be predominantly white or silver and I'm pleased to report a larger proportion of leg on show than I ever recall before; always a good excuse to refrain from changing channel.

I sat patiently through all 24 songs and to my complete and utter shame, made notes of anything I remotely liked. Special mention should go to Lithuania for fielding a silly football chant of a song and to Finland, the worthy winners pictured above, who were ridiculous in the extreme and my favourites from the outset.

Terry Wogan's commentary was on top form as always, demonstrating once again his incredible ability to predict the scores before each country's representative read them out. In fact, you just need a decent knowledge of European geography as most countries still vote for their neighbours irrespective of the song, artist, or anything else for that matter.

Our song? Sorry Daz but in my book it never stood a chance. Sweeping statement perhaps but in my opinion, the word "rap" has always been pronounced with a silent "c"...

Give me space...

I took a peek at MSN Spaces this morning to see what they had to offer and I'm pleased to report I won't be moving from Blogger any time soon.

However, it is free and my username was available so I set up this space on the basis that another incoming link wouldn't do any harm...

Blog-osophy...

Delcatto's post tonight really got me thinking, so much so that I started leaving comments but they became so long-winded I thought it more appropriate to pay credit via a link and go off on a tangent of my own!

I had never really stopped before to consider why I started this blog in the first place, or more to the point why I keep it going. Ironically, it was Delcatto himself who introduced me to the notion of blogging one Saturday afternoon over a beer (or two) in recommending I read Scaryduck's offerings. As I read his blog, which is still incredibly funny incidentally, I remember thinking that everyone must have a few anecdotes that they love to share over a beer or two and being no exception, I could a put few of mine down to share with a wider audience.

Now I think about it, I suppose it serves a number of purposes:
~ It never really became anecdotal, it is more a means of sharing the mental meanderings that have entertained me during the day and hopefully people continue to find them amusing.
~ I'm dreadful at keeping in touch with friends and not just those who have moved away as Pete Frenzy in St. Louis, Steve in Toronto, Rob in Hull, Rich in Grimsby will all testify. Hopefully this is a means of letting them know that I am still alive and usually not up to anything too exciting
~ As age and alcohol consumption take their toll, it's also a convenient way to remember what I've done myself as I've never been able to keep a diary or journal for more than a few days in a row
~ Occasionally it provides a forum for me to rant about something (often trivial) and although I seldom offer solutions, I suppose it provides some therapeutic value to me.

So what's with the anonimity? I'm not entirely sure and it's only there to a certain extent. Seany is my real name (with the optional "y"), the little weemee character isn't a bad likeness (although I am a bit taller) and the fact that many friends old and new know about the blog and visit regularly, hardly maintains an MI5 level of secrecy.

I have consciously chosen not to mention it at work, having given the address to only one colleague (as I've chatted with him and his daughter frequently over MSN in the past) but this was on the request that he doesn't access it from his work laptop. It's not that I'm ashamed or embarassed but for some reason I like the freedom to write pretty much what I want knowing that the readers either know me extremely well or hardly at all and in either case are unlikely to be overly offended. Indeed, I recently had to give much consideration before admitting to Cherrypie that I knew her "mail order" ex through work, although I still have no intentions of saying anything to him about it.

There is also the wind-up merchant in me that keeps me going. Having already achieved Google "I'm Feeling Lucky" status when searching for Seany, it amuses me to think that people still end up here looking for Playboy bunny pictures, Samantha Janus photos and for a while last year, "Paula Radcliffe pissing video". There are perfectly innocent explanations in each case for how they arrived here (and I don't suppose this post will help) but I guess it serves them right!

Finally, if nothing else, as a means of reducing unecessary surplus, from day one in every title and every post I like to think that I have been chipping away at the European ellipsis mountain...

Well would you believe it...

I set off for work this morning and at the bottom of the avenue I suddenly realised I wasn't wearing my watch. I resisted the temptation to turn back and contrary to my initial concerns, I didn't really spend the day feeling like my left arm had been amputated.

My daily commute was hampered both ways today by "undue hesitancy of the year" contestants and yet I wasn't actually late for anything*.

When I got home, contrary to this morning's forecast it was still sunny and I managed to run the mower over the back lawn before it threw it down with rain.

Little Sis told me a few years ago about a book she'd read called "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff" which I never actually read (I'm very thinly read remember?) but I took the title to heart. Today is possibly proof that I still try not to...


*I have recently realised that it's not the delay that annoys me as much as the fact that I've taken a liking to tearing down quiet country lanes (safely of course) and these people are stopping my fun

Think they own the place...

After an uneventful day and less than memorable drive home today, I was feeling particularly tired and looking forward to a quick bite to eat followed by an early night. Fortunately as I turned into the cul-de-sac where I live, my wits were still sufficiently about me before I drove into one of them.

There must have been about four or five of them, difficult to tell how old, slowly sauntering down the middle of the road, not a care in the world and clearly showing no intention of moving onto the pavement. A couple of polite toots of the car horn resulted in little more than a sideways glance by one or two of them, they took a couple of steps further forward and all congregated together again in the middle.

What's the best thing to do in cases like this? I'm not usually an aggressive person but I'll admit that my seatbelt was undone and I was at the point of getting out of the car to confront them when I realised there was just enough room to drive past them.

Bloody ducks...

Many hands make light work...

Well two hands to be more exact.

When I first moved into the bungalow, it was nice to see it had been suitably equipped with several security and courtesy external lights, but the only one I have never really got to grips with was the courtesy light above the garage door which despite my numerous twiddlings, came on at dusk and stayed on, I presume, until it got bored with the view. Another job consigned to the "I must get round to sorting that out properly sometime" list.

Tonight however, the garage door flew open in a somewhat more livelier manner than expected, somehow managing to smash the lights mounting plate in the process. As if by magic, "sometime" suddenly became "now" and judging by the thick black clouds hovering overhead, sooner than "now" would be preferable.

Fortunately, I had a PIR halogen light which I'd bought for the last house and which had never made it off the "sometime" list so it was a relatively easy swap. This was of course followed by the ritual back, forth & sidestep dance in the drive which is apparently necessary to check I'd got the sensitivity right. It seems the slightest tweak changes the sensitivity setting from "yeti leaping right in front of it" to "ant farts three miles away" but it is now installed and hopefully not illuminating too much of the remainder of the neighbourhood.

Aside from a more practical security light than it's predecessor, it should save me on electricity too as it will be on for considerably less time. Next job is to find a new gadget to spend my potential savings on...

A breath of fresh air...

I'm feeling particularly pleased with myself today because it is now 500 days since my last cigarette.

Assuming that I smoked 20 per day and that I bought them all the supermarket, that means I would have smoked 10,000 cigarettes in this time at a cost of £2065! To tell the truth, 20 a day would be an under-estimate and more often than not I would have bought packs of 18 or less at an even higher pack price from a vending machine. I did roll my own for a while too but whatever the fine detail, I'll still have made a substantial saving.

Despite the financial gains, by now the risk of my having a heart attack is less than half than it would have been had I continued smoking. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't put on weight but that is more as a result of my continued appreciation for real ale rather than any substitution snacking.
I wish I could pass on my secret of how I got this far so easily, but I think I just reached a point where I'd had enough of them. In the last 17 months I think there have only been two or three occasions where it's crossed my mind, but it's never lingered for long. More to the point, the places where smokers are accepted are rapidly diminishing so I thought it better to stop of my own choosing before being press-ganged into it.

If you're reading this and thinking about stopping, please consider it seriously and take advantage of the wealth of free help and advice out there. The Allen Carr website was enough to get me started (or stopped), but all of these links may be helpful:

Allen Carrs Easyway
ASH
British Heart Foundation
NHS - Don't give up giving up
Quit

I'm here as proof that it can be done without spending money on patches or pills but there's no shame in either if you want a helping hand. I'll not deny that used to enjoy smoking and I'm certainly not here to lecture anybody or get into any "freedom of choice" arguments, I'm just suggesting that if you've ever even considered stopping, give it a go...

Reasons to be cheerful...

One...

My little nephew is celebrating his 2nd birthday today. It sounds like he's had a good day although he's a bit overwhelmed by the sudden influx of presents and extra attention. As I explained to Little Sis this evening, you have to give the poor little fella a chance - he'd only just got used to being one.

Two...

With my first week of the new healthy regime complete (destined to last at least a couple more days) I have lost just over two pounds, my BMI has dropped a point and body fat percentage has dropped by just over one percent. Cherrypie will be relieved to hear that I have no idea (or interest) whether my urine PH level has changed or not! Newsflash just in - guess to went to the pub for an hour after work tonight and drank no more than a glass of J20? By the way, if you're looking in Dave, thanks again for the parasol (readers please note - the parasol was for my garden not the soft drink)

Three...

The new hard disk caddy is up and running, I've discovered a veritable treasure trove of wonderful forgotten goodies and I've only had the chance to glance briefly through one disk. One particular which I must get onto a CD and into the car is a heavy metal ABBA tribute album - has to be heard to be believed.


Finally, thanks should go to Chris Evans for playing Ian Drury's "What a Waste" on his drive time show this evening which in a typically roundabout way got my grey cells working on tonight's post...

Plug N Not Playing...

Amongst the goodies I got yesterday, I also decided to treat myself to a hard disk caddy which like many things, seemed a really good idea in principle. I just needed to plug in one of the hard disks from the PC that's currently enjoying retirement (ok, it's still waiting for a new motherboard), connect a USB lead from the caddy to my laptop and hey presto, my storage space has suddenly increased by 200GB and I have access to the files I once feared I might have lost forever.

With the ensuing fun of CD playing and study clearance, I didn't get the chance to try it out yesterday, but with no space left in the bins, I took my chance this afternoon. First roadblock - the unit was missing from the box! The cables and accompanying CDs were all present but no sign of the actual unit itself which didn't bode well for progress. A quick trip back to the store and on sight of my receipt (and somewhat embarrassed expression), they were happy to exchange the ex-display box for a complete one.

Brief interlude to eat a roast dinner then back to the magic box and time to find out exactly what was left behind on the old disks - there is a potential of 480gb of space in total and I have genuinely forgotten what I left on there. After over an hour of connecting, disconnecting and re-connecting, restarting and rebooting I'm afraid to say I'm still no better off so it looks like another trip back to the store after work tomorrow.

I'm certain I've checked and tried everything I should have done, but after my first return visit, I've a terrible feeling it will turn out to be something really straight forward again...

What a save...

I'm not referring to the performance of Messrs Reina and Hislop in this afternoon's match; unsurprisingly I skipped the trip to the pub to watch the cup final this afternoon (best for years or otherwise), there was plenty to do at home instead. I'm not even referring to Steve Mildenhall's contribution towards Grimsby Town's promotion into League One. I don't think I need to elaborate further on my disinterest in football.

The "save" in question is mine and I'm talking about saving money. Or more to the point, how completely hopeless I am at it (rather like football actually).

My parents tried to teach me the value of money as a child, giving me chores to complete to earn my pocket money rather than just giving it to me. I was also encouraged to take up paper rounds and part time jobs as soon as I was old enough to re-inforce the difference between earning money and being given it. Despite this headstart, I have always found it difficult to save money in the occasional times I have had some surplus. I've no idea how I ever managed to save enough for a deposit for a house.

It still hasn't changed. Last night, the hedge bordering my front garden got a long overdue trimming and shaping courtesy of my uncle who just happens to be a gardener (incidentally, he also happens to be an incredibly generous man who refused to take anything other than a can of beer in payment). It also provided an excuse to spend a equally long overdue Friday night in, choosing to use the time more wisely putting shelves up in the study rather than another weekly beer marathon.

So if you add up the savings over two days: a gardener for two hours, four taxi fares, a couple of pub meals, enough beer to float a battleship and the inevitable pool & jukebox fodder, I probably ought to be about a hundred quid in pocket by now. Unfortunately my subconscious was already one step ahead and had me trotting into town to by a portable CD/Radio/Cassette/MP3 player so I can listen to music in the study during my early morning stints on the running machine and also whilst I'm sorting through all of the other stuff I've dumped in there.

I suppose I should take some comfort that while I've been spending pounds in one way, it will make life more pleasant while I'm trying to lose them elsewhere...

Scam alert...

I was sent this a while ago on e-mail and was recently reminded of it when reading Jay's DaTaste blog. If you haven't seen this already, please read it, take note and pass it on to all of your male friends :

I am posting this to you to warn you of something that happened to me, as I have become a victim of a clever scam while out shopping. This happened to me at Tesco and it could happen to you.

This is how it works:

Two seriously good-looking 18-year-old girls come over to your car as you are packing your shopping in the boot. They both start wiping your window with a soapy sponge, their breasts almost falling out of their skimpy t-shirts. It is impossible not to look.

When you thank them and offer them a tip, they say "No" and instead ask you for a ride to another Tesco. You agree and they get in the back seat. On the way, they start having sex with each other. Then one of them climbs over into the front seat and performs oral sex on you, while the other one steals your wallet. I had my wallet stolen last Tuesday, Wednesday, twice on Thursday, again on Saturday, and also yesterday and probably again tonight...

It's better to give...

After a high speed internet shopping spree on Sunday evening, I was delighted to see all of the family birthday presents had arrived when I got home today.

Obviously, I can't say what they are as there is always a chance that they may be looking in but I think they will all be pleased. I know it's a cliche but I genuinely do get as much if not more fun choosing presents for people as I do by receiving them. I can say without fear of contradiction that none of them will have the slightest clue what they're getting and they won't be finding out from me either- that's all part of the fun.

I truly believe that if you have to ask somebody what they want, then you probably don't know them well enough to buy them a present in the first place. Equally, I've never understood how people get away with gift vouchers - you may as well be honest and say "I can't be bothered to think of anything, go and get it yourself"

21 days and it will all be over again for another year; well at least until October when my niece turns seven. We are the only two of the family who aren't swept up in this 5 week birthday season, which also means that when they do come around, we get to enjoy our birthday celebrations all to ourselves for that little bit longer.

Now there's a nice sentiment...

Back on the run...

Well, I've stalled for as long as I can possibly get away with it and the study is finally clear enough for me to get to the infamous running machine.

It has been seriously neglected for the 6 months I've been living here; the only exercise it's provided is by my moving it around or clearing the dust off it. The original train of thought was that by spending such a ridiculous amount of money on the thing, I would be so riddled with guilt as to make sure I got plenty of value out of it in return.

I started off well and began to notice results in no time at all, but one bout of man-flu put me out of my routine and I'm not the most easily motivated individual when it comes to physical exertion (aside from the fact I can be damned lazy if I put my mind to it).

Anyway the facts are clear, even to me:

• I know I could afford to lose a few stone without looking particularly emaciated
• Despite having given up smoking over 16 months ago, I still get out of breath going upstairs (kinda difficult in my bungalow anyway) or hurrying to catch the bus into town
• There's a heap of clothes in the wardrobe which ought to fit better than they do
• Since passing the big four-oh, I ought to be paying more attention to my general well-being
• I need to compensate for my growing addiction to the manufacture and consumption of home baked goods

and most importantly

• it cost me a shitload of money and still owes me big-time

So, if I can find the strength to press the keys down, I'll let you know in forthcoming posts how things are going...

It's the thought that counts...

I love the way the above phrase is used to mask complete disappointment or utter failure.

Today for example I got an early start, mowed front & back lawns, cleared a few weeds from the back garden then dug out my multimeter and toolbox to repair my long-neglected hedgetrimmer as I need to get the leylandi in the front to a manageable height before it goes wild. The good news is that I managed to get it up and running without too much effort but the weather started to threaten rain so I'm afraid it didn't get any activity in the garden. Still, it's the thought that counts.

Determined to have an alcohol-free Saturday I busied the rest of my day with the usual chores and playing in the kitchen turning out all manner of bread, buns and cake (yes - the chocolate cake recipe finally worked). Satisified with another busy day's achievements, I grilled a nice steak for tea and rustled up a red wine sauce to go with it. The thing is, once you've opened a nice bottle of red, you have to finish it in case it goes off (honest). So it wasn't quite the alcohol free day I'd planned, but it's the thought that counts...

Friday frivolity...

Just over a year ago, I introduced new Mr Man and South Park characters to the world and today, thanks to a link found on Samantha's site, I give you Simpsons Seany:



OK, I accept the physique isn't too lifelike, but the activity certainly is and unlike the antics in the real Springfield, this is only a cartoon...

On the ball...

I am not much of a football fan.

Don't look out for that on the headline news this evening - even BBC Look North would find news more earth shattering than that (especially seeing as Mr "2 shags" Prescott & his wife have chosen to cast their votes from their home village this evening). Anyone who's read this blog in any detail will have seen several admissions to my lack of interest in the game; in fact I would go so far as to say that I've never been enormously interested in either playing or watching it.

In my youth, I felt the need on a couple of occasions to really put this to the test and went along to Blundell Park to watch our "local heroes" play, but alas it was never meant to be. The combination of not particularly enjoying the match and being practically shredded through the fence at the front of the Pontoon Stand left me sufficiently bereft of interest to ever return.

On the two occasions I did visit, I picked up a souvenir programme each time, brought them home, put them in a drawer somewhere and completely forgot about them - until I found them both in near-mint condition at the bottom of a box last weekend that is.

One of them was for a match we played against Hull City on 7th April 1980 and guess who was on their team that season? A certain Steve McLaren who you may have heard mentioned on the news today having been named as the new England manager. Quicker than you could say "get it on e-Bay", I retrieved my programme just to check whether I could claim the extremely unlikely event "the guy who isn't interested in football has only seen two league football matches, during one of which the current England manager played".

Although he's on their team photo, he wasn't listed on the back cover so I'm guessing he was on the bench that day. Which makes my programme somewhat less rare. And less worthwhile flogging on e-Bay for untold millions.

Stupid bloody game anyway...

X marks the spot...

It's local election day tomorrow which aside from providing a moments infantile amusement for the local Chinese community, puts me in a bit of a quandry.

As this is my first election since I moved into the area, I have no real indication of how effective any of the candidates are aside from reading the literature that poured through the letterbox. Unfortunately, only one leaflet for one candidate "poured" through so I can't even weigh up the competition.

Determined to do my democratic bit, I searched our council website and found the candidates who are standing in my ward and searched for more info on them both, but with little success.

I've always firmly believed that any vote is usually for the "least worst" candidate as I always seem to be picking the best of a bad job, but equally, democracy should not be taken for granted and at least by casting my vote I am entitled to witter (and possibly blog) about the consequences.

I would settle for "eenie, meenie, miney, mo" except of course that it's no longer politically correct...

By special request...

As yesterday's post was inspired by a suggestion from Delcatto, I feel obliged to honour a request so ladies and gentlemen, please take a look at this thing of natural and rare beauty:



Isn't it beautiful? That, dear readers, is a young planetary nebula known to it's friends by the rather catchy name of MyCn18.

Oh, and it can be found about 8000 light years from my house...

And still they come...

Thanks again everybody!

I'm delighted to see the Bravenet counter has registered another 1000 which means there have now been over 8000 visits to my humble little blog. It's hard to believe that only a little over a month ago I was posting to thank you all for helping me past the 7000 mark. Traditionally, I've tried to mark the milestone passing with a special post and this time I've decided to pick up on one of Delcatto's suggestions and look 8000 around me:

8000 centimeters would get me just around the corner from where I live. Nothing unusual there other than the ducks who have strangely made their home on the patch of grass at the side of the road.

8000 inches wouldn't get you much further, possibly about halfway to bus stop that I ought to use more often than local taxi firm

8000 feet takes you to Tesco. Nothing eventful going on there now I'm getting back into the habit of buying what I went in there for with a bit less of "I could use one of those"...

8000 yards is the approximate distance from my house to our local landmark, the Dock Tower

8000 metres would get you to my last house; the place that should go on record as one of the worst property investments ever made with no profit after ten years.

8000 kilometers (quite a jump there) would get you to the Chinese Spring City of the North, Changchun City. Or maybe the Mumbwa Caves in Zambia, a site of numerous significant archealogical finds (including very early evidence of cosmetics)

8000 miles from me is Lively Island which despite it's wonderful name, it's major claim to fame on Wikipedia is being the largest rat-free island of the Falkands and is home to a sheep farm.

Hmmm... sheep farm, it suppose it could get lively if you find a nice looking one...

What a May Day...

You can't beat a relaxing Bank Holiday Monday. Perhaps today I could have tried, but I suspect the guilt of having done so little yesterday motivated me to get an early start this morning. So today's achievements before sitting down this afternoon for a sandwich and a well earned cuppa:

~ Usual weekend chores such as getting the washing done, emptying the dishwasher, taking the hoover for a walk, and so on

~ Sorted through the last of the old clothes and put aside everything I'm not likely to wear again (by choice or otherwise) for the next charity bag that arrives through the door

~ Baked a cake and two loaves of bread. Still a long way to go before the sponge cake is worthy of a picture but at least it was edible this time (without a straw). One of the loaves was a standard wholemeal and this week's experiment is a cheese & bacon loaf. Apparently the latter goes very well with poached eggs but I have about another hour to wait before I find out

~ I finally cleared enough shelf space to unpack all of my videos. Many moons ago when I first got a video recorder, it seemed more logical to number each tape and keep a separate log rather keep re-labeling the tapes themselves. Hence momentary panic this afternoon when I was faced with 62 numbered tapes with no idea of what was on them

~ PC unpacked although not assembled - seemed a bit pointless seeing as the motherboard is no doubt still very poorly and in need of replacement. All the same, the unpacked components do take up much less room than the sum of their boxes

~ Notice board put up in the hallway to keep all of the emergency numbers at hand such as alarm engineer, plumber, pizza house, etc.

~ Another four boxes cleared out of the study, mostly via the shredder or the wheelie-bin and found lots of other old goodies I'd forgotten about. I'll post a separate blog about them sometime

~ Finally, I treated the front and back lawns to a good helping of Weed N Feed seeing as the nicely groomed lawns I created last week have become infested with numerous varieties of horticultural vermin

I hate to admit this, but after that lot I'm almost looking forward to getting back to work tomorrow...


Update 18:30 - scrambled eggs, chopped mushrooms on toasted cheese & bacon bread, topped with a sprinkling of chopped parsley is the best thing since (or at least a good way of eating) sliced bread...

Modest Indulgence...

I realised this weekend that sometimes, it's possible to really enjoy yourself without being particularly extravagant.

Yesterday we celebrated Rob's 40th by re-enacting our latter day tradition of attending the Cleethorpes Beer Festival. I'm certain I won't be alone in thinking that the festival itself was quite a disappointment in terms of small choice of beer available and little variety amongst those on offer. Worse still, they were all served in plastic cups which I'm sure tainted the flavours.

That said, we had a table to ourselves, large enough to seat around 15 people at one point and we had a very enjoyable afternoon affording the chance for the birthday boy to catch up with family and friends old and new and for many of us to meet his lovely new wife Sharon for the first time.

Coincidentally, there was a European market on the seafront that afternoon which meant we could enjoy spicy sausages, garlic bread and a variety of stuffed olives for tea, rather than the usual fish & chips out of newspaper. Before catching the train back into town we called in at the local CAMRA pub of the year where aside from a decent glass of real ale, we tried some Penderyn malt whisky and Merlyn whisky liqueur, both rather unique in the fact that they hail from Wales.

To finish the day, we returned to the Tap (our unofficial pub of the year - and longer for that matter) where we met up with more old friends and enjoyed several pints of excellent real ale until the last of us wandered out of the door around 11:30pm.

Today by complete contrast I've done bugger all other than catch up on some sleep, watch the usual repeats on ABC1 and tuck into a few rounds of eggy bread for tea.

Overall an excellent weekend, offering something a little different from the norm and somehow, I managed to spend considerably less than normal...

Raising the steaks...

After another fun-packed 12 hour day playing at earning a living, I arrived home this evening uninspired to create anything too adventurous in the kitchen and too mean to pay out for fast food. I also discovered to my delight that it is almost a month since my last grocery shop and the easiest thing to rustle up for supper was steak, egg & chips.

If it makes it sound any healthier, I did the steak on the trusty George Foreman lean mean grilling machine, the chips were of the "Healthy Living Low Fat Oven" variety and if I'm really clutching at straws, the eggs were only fried in a little oil. Who cares anyway, the important thing was that I had amassed a good plate full in next to no time. Enough time to get me thinking though. Uh-oh...

I like to eat my steak somewhere between medium rare and rare and I've just about got the knack of how much defrosting & grilling is required to get it just how I like it. After the first check this evening, I decided it was a little too rare, or rather "not quite well enough done", or perhaps rather than "more well done", it should be "done better".

Oh dear. A few spare minutes and a drained mind are not a good combination. It didn't stop there either. Where the does the term "rare" come from anyway? Surely, the less you cook an 8oz steak, the less it shrinks, or rather, the more of it remains which means if there is more of it, then it is less rare than a well done steak would be.

That's the problem with weekdays - I don't get the opportunity to fill my mind with important issues such as "who's round is it?" or "is that a new brewery?" or "I wonder what that one tastes like"...

Cheeky bunch of *bleep*...

Today I've become a victim of censorship and quite frankly, I find it quite offensive. It's always been a topic close to my heart (if you don't want to read it, hear it, see it then you've been warned so don't buy the book, play the CD, watch the film) but today Big Brother finally got to me and by that I don't mean I'm about to start sharing my house with a bunch of attention hungry weirdos.

One of my good friends and regular readers returned to work today and when trying to read my blog was faced with this:


(Click on image to enlarge)

I've obviously removed any details that would disclose their identity but I still can't believe my eyes!

My initial shock was to be deemed "unsuitable" when I go to great lengths to keep the language and tone to a reasonable level during my occasional rants. Don't get me wrong, I'll band about 4-letter obscenities with the best of them but there are already so many sites out there already providing that sort of entertainment (check at least 2 of those listed to your left) that I think it better to leave the experts to it.

Closer inspection reveals that it isn't just me that's being singled out, but all of us cyber-folk who use blogger (blogspot) are nicely bundled together as "Kids Time Wasting".

Now I appreciate that I am never likely to win any literary awards but I thought their generalisation was a little harsh to say the least. Perhaps a greater waste of time (and money) is when companies employ these people to play demi-gods and set ridiculous restrictions on the subject matter that their employees choose to read on the net...

By George...

Happy St. George's Day!



You did know it was today? The celebration of our patron saint? I appreciate that there has been no mention of it on the news, no parades organised, no red and white flags festooned from every building but surely you knew anyway? I guess it's just our way of being typically English and not wanting to make a fuss.

On the subject of things English, I was reading The English Guy's blog today which led me to an appalling story about National Lottery funding. For those who don't want to follow the link, Manchester United have been given a £30,000 lottery grant to fund exercise classes for their staff. I assume by "staff" we're not talking about the grossly overpaid primadonnas themselves, but all the same it's still a bloody disgrace.

I remember reading something about a year ago saying that they don't provide funding for organisations like RNLI or the Samaritans either because they can't guarantee that it will benefit disadvantaged people. Sorry, but if someone is on the brink of drowning or suicide then I'd say that's pretty damned disadvantaged.

Here's a thought for you: the first National Lottery was drawn 19th November 1994 which was a little over 596 weeks ago. I have played at least a single line every Saturday since it started and for most of the time have also been involved in a syndicate at work aswell. That means I've spent at least £1192 of which I doubt I've had a tenth back in prize money. I think it would make more sense to contribute to worthwhile causes directly and accept the fact that I'll probably never be a millionaire...