my little big bang

A few years ago, a number of things went boom. Some things though, are hard to write about and perhaps are best simply acknowledged. That's what this post is for.

Look at my eyes, not at my ...

I know what it might seem from a title like that, but I make a point of always looking at the eyes. Ok, sometimes the nose.

It wasn't until Almond Blossom came along, my first true love, a woman with a man's name (but definitely a woman) that I noticed how some people only ever look at your nose. It has been said (gingerly by some) that my nose is distinctive but it probably isn't quite fascinating enough to stare at for long periods. Is it a confidence thing then?

If it had not been for Blossom I might never have realised. One day while thinking of her and how she only ever looked at my nose, I thought, "I'll try this".

I am one for trying things you see, its curiosity. Everything from peanut butter and garlic sandwiches, to shaving my left leg during an experimental phase (?!?), to sex while suspended from the upstairs bannister by a climbing rope. I mean its not until you try things that you find out just how silly or impractical they can be.

Anyhow, back on topic, I thought, "I'll try looking at someone's nose".

So choosing a friend at random (male, avoiding any feminist confrontations) I tried to focus on his nose, and found the strangest thing ... that I was already looking at it!!  What was new was having to force my unwilling eyes upward.

Suddenly the drugs wore off and the horror dawned on me that that this was the first time I had ever looked someone in the eye. I had been going through life looking at people's noses without realising it.

Naturally I have been practising lots since then, and have realised that there are times when it is wise and respectful to look someone directly in the eye, and times when it's really better to look at the frying pan they're holding menacingly in their hand.

How had I managed to go through all those years? Why had no-one told me? But of course it was probably for the same reason I didn't tell Blossom. I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

So now I make a point of always looking at the eyes, ok, sometimes the nose just for old times sake, but usually the eyes.

I am a (small) planet

"Astronomers have voted to strip Pluto of its status as a planet"

Well, Pluto is definitely a planet as far as I'm concerned. What happened to the "it's round and it revolves around the Sun", common sense definition?

Apparently it is now a "dwarf planet", although it seems the Earth also fits this definition so astronomers might soon think of us as little dwarfish people.

Have you noticed something curious about the new definition for a 'proper' planet?

* it must be in orbit around the Sun
* it must be large enough that it takes on a nearly round shape
* it has cleared its orbit of other objects

This actually means that like Pluto, the only condition I don't meet, is the last. I share my orbit with the Earth. So, I too must be a dwarf planet rather than a 'proper' one. Well it's nice to know I'm not a piece of cosmic dust or a super massive black hole :-/

The planet Pluto was discovered in 1930, and named after a suggestion by an 11 years old Oxford Schoolgirl (Venetia Phair). Well that's good enough for me.

Listening to: The Thompson Twins, "We Are Detective"
Feeling: hmmmm, small and slightly eliptical

A blip

-- warning: this entry contains introspective paranoid squeakings that I had to put here but which you can safely ignore, normal service resumes at this curious entry about dwarfs --

So what happened to cause this blip?

Well it might not seem like much if you're reading, a bit like a Spring shower in a teacup, but it was a storm to me.

Some bits of me live just under the surface and I don't choose to share them with all the people in my 'normal' life. Just some personal things, thoughts and reflections that I need to express somewhere. I mean, can you share your innermost thoughts with all those around you?

I know and have respect for a lot of good people, but not all of those friendships need to know exactly why I fell in love with someone and exactly what I think about in the middle of the night.

I didn't know what I was doing when I started this blog (and still don't).
Nevertheless, it has become quite important to me and although I've hardly used it yet and its full of nothings and nonsenses, it's gained a little life all of its own. So I don't want it to be killed off!

My reference in the blip to 'un-looked-for visibility' was when I was visiting family the other day. I found myself standing behind someone who was doing a (g)oo(g)gle search for something quite innocent. I was quite horrified and couldn't quite believe my eyes when, over his shoulder I saw "Little Stitches - Weblog @ 20six.co.uk" (my 20Six blog) sitting there on page one of his search results. He began opening the pages he found ... one by one ... then the coffee got spilt on his desk when I accidentally tripped, making sure I took the power cord out on the way down.

I made excuses and offered lots of apologies, and luckily it distracted him, this time. I rushed home, probably breaking some laws and in a furious panic, removed some particularly 'identifying' posts. I'm still feeling paranoid about the whole thing.

Sometimes people know other people and before long, everyone knows about your blog (I've seen this happen a few times). Of course it's just a blog and it's far too dreary to be of interest, but that's not the point.

"Well why don't you just start a new blog?", you might ask. Yes I could, but actually I've put a lot of effort into this one (I know it doesn't seem that way) and it means something to me now.

If certain people found it then, well, Bunnyman would be no more, and although I might try and rub it all out, it's very difficult to rub out blog entries that live on the Google cache and on multiple RSS Feed servers around the world. Yes, it's hard to believe but even my useless ramblings have gone around the globe a few times, It's a very strange feeling.

But we all have to move forward and this is starting to get on my wick now. I don't work well when I've backed myself, whimpering into a corner. So I'm just going to put some rude but bold words into this tiny space (  ) so that they don't offend anyone but at least I know I said them, and carry on. I'm putting the posts back on 20Six, unchanged, together with comments, although the dates are mucked up there (they're fine here on Blogger.com). If you're new, please don't go reading that blog or this (they're almost identical anyhow) thinking there was ever anything interesting to be found. You will be bored silly. It really will mean nothing to anyone but me.

I'll try to stop squeaking now and start blogging again.

shhhhh, I'm in the wardrobe

Panic-squidge! I am having a little blog tidy up here, which means that some older things will disappear from 20Six for a bit. They haven't actually disappeared, but they're no longer on 20Six for the mo (I have moved them across here to Blogger.com).

If anyone left comments on those posts, please don't feel offended. The fact that they've been removed has absolutely nothing to do with the content or the comments, and I will try to bring them back at some point.

I'm just suffering from an un-looked-for, visibility panic-squidge right now. In fact I'm just going to quietly run into the wardrobe, close the door and hide until it's all over.

-- Update: I've come back out now. I was, after all, getting quite hungry. --

Well why don't they?

Yawn. Tonight had some lumpy bits in it but luckily, there were lots of friendly blogging people chattering away on 20Six. And I've been listening to that Radio Blagon station again, playing "Interesting French electica", otherwise known as quite mad, café music. Marcel et son Orchestre, and Les Cowboys Fringants, among others. What does 'Fringants' mean I wonder? Hope its not rude.

Yawn. If only these were sleep yawns. Whenever I put my head down, it gets filled with all this activity and thought. Not the kind of thought that builds moon rockets but the kind where I wonder if I should nip down to the kitchen and steal a choccy biccy or nibble on an oatcake or read my Gas bill or just pace up and down on the carpet to make sure it's stuck down properly.

I've tried the hot milk, solitaire and sudoku. Yawn, I think it's time for the glug-glug now.

Can someone wake me in the morning please?

Listening to: Bikini Machine, "L'idole"
Wondering: why mountains don't have bra's?

Wet day at the Fringe

I had booked some tickets for a play at the Smirnoff Underbelly (one of the Fringe venues), starting late afternoon, and arranged to meet Lavender-Leaf and Floppy-Brolly in Edinburgh beforehand. Leaf had forewarned me about the traffic, but I've never been good with timekeeping in recent years and as usual it was all a bit of a panic.

The roads were busy with slow buses and flashing traffic lights, so the driving pace into town was a crawl. Play started at 3:15 and with just an hour to go I had to park, get to the Fringe box office, pick up the tickets and get down to the venue to meet the others.

My normal shortcut (a bit like a game of snakes and ladders around the city centre) wasn't being a shortcut today, but I thought that if I could park in my usual slot, I might just make it. At the usual slot I couldn't even see the yellow 'no parking' lines because of parked cars, so I kept on crawling behind the traffic until I was almost inside the Botanical Gardens. Never seen it this busy before.

2:30 now and of course the rain is tipping it down as I shuffle quickly along and up towards town. I can't run any more these days (ankles are trashed), so I hobble up the hill, continually looking over my shoulder for a taxi, jacket open, getting hot and wet. Must look a sight. Fourth taxi along stops so I dive in.

2:50, phone rings, it's Leaf, "What do you mean you're running late? I told you it was going to be busy!". On the start of the Bridges now and traffic is stationary. I raise my left eyebrow at the Taxi driver (he could tell I was getting frustrated). He said, "I'll try and zip up the bus lane", as we sit stationary waiting for the bus to move. 2 minutes and 20 feet later a car breaks down ahead.

I jump out and start hobbling again, up-down, up-down, like Rolf Harris chasing a Kangaroo. It's usually not very polite to go streaming through the middle of Edinburgh street theatre ... hang on, they think I am Edinburgh Street theatre ... flapping, waving arms "out of the way please, emergency, I'm a doctor". Eventually get to the box office down a thin alleyway, huffing and glowing, only to meet the end of a huge queue. I cheekily barge through and find a sign "Don't wait in the queue if you have pre-booked tickets". Great!

3:05 now, inside and I'm in another queue behind two couples at the ticket desk. Why does it take so long for people to pick up tickets? They've paid for the damn things already! Stop chatting about which card you used, you arse! Eventually it's me. No it's them. Eh, who was here first? OK, you go. DAMN! Why do I have to be so polite. Now I'm kicking myself, tick-tock, tick-tock. Whoosht as I grab the tickets and fly out the door.

Up the road past the police "Where's Victoria Street?"
"Just down there m...", to late, I've gone already.

3:14 trotting ... stumbling ... flying, I hit the front entrance of the Underbelly at a zooming 5mph trundle and unable to stop, career down the stairs. Luckily there's a bend with a wall half way down so I smash into this rather than end up flat out and bruised.

Leaf sees me and lets rip "WHAT TIME DO YOU CALL THIS!!", but what do I care. Shoulder's sore and I'm squelching water, but I've made it now. Phew!

I blogged about the play here, but didn't mention that I was the one glowing with all that steam and heat in the second row.

Amazingly, Leaf and Floppy-Brolly enjoyed it so much that we only spent 20 minutes squeaking about how I'm always late and how we almost didn't get in (this bit usually lasts much longer). Instead, we spent the next 20 minutes arguing about where we'd eat since I was so 'fussy' (they all call me a vegetarian, but it's just that I don't eat meat).

It was still tipping it down, so we found an Indian restaurant called Khushi's just along from the Underbelly. The place looked quite new and it was half-empty (or is it half-full?). Just up the stairs is one of those polished marble floors that makes walking with wet shoes treacherous. I collided with the "Danger, wet floor" sign but managed to stay upright.

Lovely meal. The young woman making doing the coffee's might have been new since she made her first ever Cappuccino for Leaf.

These two were then asking me all kinds of questions about blogs and blogging and who these people were, that were in the play, and what kinds of crazy people write blogs, and how they could write so openly about their lives like this, and how they found the play interesting, but that these blogs must surely all be made up.

... ummm, "I don't know, yes it must be a bit strange, I guess", erm, moves one hand under the table to slide pad marked "Bunnyman's Blog Notebook", slowly and quietly into my deep jacket pocket.

Hmmm, so, what kinds of crazy people write blogs then?

Bloggers: Real Internet Diaries

Over the weekend I went to see Bloggers at the Edinburgh Fringe, a play by Oliver Mann which is based entirely on British blogs. This is only the second play I've ever seen, so what follows is just my own impression and not a 'review'.

Two actors and three actresses played out overlapping excerpts from (I thought it was ten, but it seems it was eleven) blogs, some quite well known, for just over an hour. It was very lively and interesting to watch, slow in parts and incredibly funny in others.

I think there were two ways to approach this play. If you see it without having read any of the blogs, you'll see a great show about some amusing, quirky, sometimes boisterous and sometimes vulnerable characters. If instead, you have read and certainly if you've commented on any of these blogs, then you may find you're a little biased and critical of the performances.

I went there with very high expectations and probably a little scepticism, so I found I had quite mixed feelings by the end, but I was also lucky enough to go with two less biased Bunny companions. I'll tell you what they thought in a minute.

Having read some of these blog entries myself, including some of the actual excerpts used in the script, I have to say that the casts' portrayal of the characters didn't quite reflect my own glimpsed insights. I've read a courageous mix of personal and lively experiences, written by intelligent and witty people.

The play shows actors choosing (and emphasising) quirky, eccentric, vulnerable and exuberant qualities, playing out what are sometimes very personal passages, sometimes unrestricted sexual exploits. Quite a lesson in just what artistic license can achieve. The material was reported to be unchanged from the original sources and I didn't hear anything to contradict this. But of course facial and body gestures and use of verbal emphasis can give quite differing interpretations.

The end result does mean that you feel a real connection with the characters (difficult not to given such penetrating performances). I'm not sure quite how I would have reacted had any of it been me.

I was sitting very close to the front and one actress caught me, chin in hand, with my critical-eye-look, peering intently at her, a large black and white notice scrawled across my forehead saying "now you and I both know it doesn't read that way ... hm!" (I'm new to this eye-to-eye audience-actress feedback thing). Oh dear, I'm laughing now but I do hope I didn't put her off.

My companions (an ex-bunnygirl and her step mother) surprisingly loved it. These women are very straight, family oriented Scots and neither have enjoyed theatre in the past. They think bloggers have green skin, six legs, and breathe noxious fumes and they truly can't believe why anyone would want to talk about themselves in public. They have absolutely no idea that I blog. They also have a quite traditional attitude to sex.

It was a relief for me. I half expected "ye flamin' pervert twit, ye took us tae see a play aboot porny sex!", but phew! they both genuinely liked it (as did the rest of the audience, place was packed). They thought it was interesting and funny and just a set of entertaining sketches about unusual people. Now they want to go see more plays.

The end result was I think, a very good play, but I am left feeling nothing but respect for those who agreed to having their blogs used as source material. I am also very relieved that my own blog is far too dreary to have any risk of ever being the target of theatre, but there again, dreary sometimes makes good material for satire and ridicule. OK, I'm kind of relieved but with a lingering sense of paranoia.

This is one thing I can check off my 43things, hooray!

Listening to: David Bowie, "Oh You Pretty Things"
Feeling: like a goldfish in a bowl ...

43 Stitches

I've been 'tagged'! This is new, another little stitch in a small life.

This particular 'tagging' is for 43things and seems to have been started by Reej at pcstuff.co.za and come to me via Acidicice and Sketches, so it's been across 2 continents and pretty much half way around the world.

So what's it about?

43things seems to be a very simple site where you can make a list of things that are important to you and that you'd like to do. These can be small things, big things, fun things or challenges. Some interesting examples are:

• Learn to do the Thriller dance.
• Be kissed on the top of a ferris wheel.
• Sponsor at least one child's education. (one of Sketches things)

Basically anything you want, but whatever you choose has to be achievable. It's quite flexible, allowing you to add and remove things easily and it optionally lets you chat to other people who might have the same interest. It came to me in the form of the following challenge:

1. The list has to be a minimum of 5 entries long but you can add as many items as you want. Anything added to the list should be achieved within a year of adding it to the list.

2. Things such as: "I want to change the world", or "Save a rain forest" do not count. The list is for personal goals or things you have always wanted to do such as watch the entire 10 season of Friends in a month (if that sort of will make you feel good) or better yet, Learn how to paint a self-portrait.

3. The website 43things is a great resource if you need help, most things you would like to achieve has already been attempted and there are people to help you.

4. You can/should tag at least 1 other Blogger.

I don't usually fare well with lists of tasks, life already being quite cluttered, but I've decided to give this a try for two reasons. One, Sketches tagged me, and two, I initially found it difficult to come up with a list of things that I wanted to do. Well difficult things are like waving a red rag at this bull, so I've decided to give it a go.

These are the guidelines I've set myself:

• Where new things are concerned, small starts are best, so I've chosen 4 things to begin
• They should be doable.
• Personal evolution is about making mistakes to learn more about ourselves. So it's OK it I can't do one or some of my 'things'. I shouldn't consider it a failure, but simply learn from the experience and move on.
• We live in a throw away society but that doesn't mean we have throw away lives. Each one of these 'things' involves a process, an experience, no matter how small. I should learn something from each 'thing'.

So, what's going on my list?

1. See a play at the Edi(n)burgh Fringe Festival (it seems I'm the first to choose this combination)
   It’s been 7 years since I went to see a play and I’ve never been to the Fringe. This particular little aim is more than it seems and I'm going to have to blog about it soon.
   
   
2. Improve my photography (shared with 224 other people)
   I'd like to know my camera better so I can spend more time observing and less time fumbling while taking photographs. I'd also like to have a better understanding of light and contrast.
   I've seen so much inspiring amateur photography recently, that I feel inspired.
   
   
3. Create a mosaic (shared with 1 other person)
   I'm struggling with painting (having set my goals too high) but ceramic/glass mosaic seems much more practical so I'm going to have a try in the medium term.
   Art is a particular bugbear of mine so this is a small part of a larger struggle.
   
   
4. Find the courage to blog (I'm alone here although 1128 other people would like to 'Be a better blogger')
   I have read a number of blogs where the writers show courage in talking about their own lives.
   I on the other hand, am struggling to blog what I feel. I haven't found my courage yet.
   This is a complex 'thing', so I'm putting a year on it. I don't know quite how it's going to work out, and I can see that it's stretching my guidelines, but it's gotta be here.

"You can/should tag at least 1 other Blogger". I've tagged 3 other people on their own blogs, but not as a challenge, simply as an interesting idea. You can find my 43things here

I had better mention that someone else has claimed my name on 43things, the same person as did this on Blogspot, I'm guessing. So http://www.43things.com/person/bunnyman is not me.

Spirits on the Quiraing

The Quiraing is a mountain on the end of the Trotternish peninsula of Skye, N.W. Scotland. From its summit you can see the 130 mile long outer Hebridean island chain and the entire North West coast of Scotland in a 270 degree panoramic vista.

Coaches and tourists claim it during the high season and it's popular with walkers most other weekends, so those who feel at home with mountains and solitude would do better to choose early morning or late evening, on a weekday in Winter or Spring for a visit. An easy stroll out from the car park or a longer walk up from Staffin village brings you under its steep and overhanging cliffs and that in itself is worth doing. For those with just a little more stamina, a great route to the top, continues round under its eastern promontory, then onto the northern saddle and easy slopes to the summit, "Meall na Suiramach", usually returning the same way.

But it does have another curious corner. A flat and grassy Table, not half the size of a football pitch, hangs tantalisingly just beyond reach below its Northernmost crags. From the south-east, a tricky and particularly steep grass and loose scree slope climbs directly up, through the middle of its dizzy imposing cliffs. It's only a short jaunt but it feels like you're climbing up and under the portcullis of Valhalla. Even the experienced tread this with care and it isn't for the meek when snow or wet grass are underfoot. A lesser known, still steep but more stable walk that climbs directly up through a gully to the north-east, is safer, but harder to find for the uninitiated. Both walks comes with a slight risk of weather-loosened boulders falling from the heights above.

This is one of my places. You can listen to the wind here, and you can hear the world grinding around on its axis. On a wild and stormy day, it's one of the corners of our planet that defines the word, 'magnificent'.

A few years ago, someone, I've no idea who, trudged, struggled and sweated up through these steep cliffs and crags and loose pebbles, carrying the massive weight of an inscribed gravestone, a tribute to someone who passed away but who loved this particular place.

It lies resting, simply propped against the cliff at the rear of the Table and surrounded by a few small stones.

Spirits live here now.

After the hoo-hah

Sometimes weeks go by when the only thing I have room for is the humdrum of day to day existence. Sometimes I've been lucky enough to have come home to love and friendship.

But then there are times when I need to spend moments with 'him indoors', me, single cell. Times like now. I've been reminded recently that when all the hoo-hah dies down and all the dinner guests leave, that we are all alone in our heads. It seems it's not just me, lots of other people have been hitting these quiet little moments.

All that time spent living a lot and giving a little doesn't seem to count for so much now, when it comes to cashing in on my other investment, me. It's at times like these that I need to tame the 'selfish' word, pin it to the wall and clearly define its limitations.

As someone here said recently (and very eloquently), the only kind of love that really endures is the love you build for yourself. Without this how can you ever recognise love for others?

Listening to: Jefferson Airplane, "Somebody to Love"
Feeling: wide awake again in the middle of the night

A working break

I sometimes do decoration and renovation work. It's far more interesting than 'other stuff' and it's relatively free of work politics. This does not mean that I'm trendy designer extraordinaire, Laurence Llewelyn Bowen although its true that his nose is modelled after mine. No of course, I'm much more handsome :P

In reality, it's all just an excuse to exhibit my nice round builder's bum

This particular job was all the way down to London town to 'refresh' a flat for a friend. I was late starting out because of the previous night's insomnia. 8 army trucks, 2 pink Cadillacs, 7 ambulances and 4 serious (engine off) accidents later, a journey that should have taken 6 hours took 10 but thanks to my MP3 player, Laura Nyro, Morrissey, Enya and AC/DC, I stayed sane.

It is so strange going back, alone and unencumbered after a long break. I have history with London. It's where I was brought into this life, within the sound of Bow Bells in fact, making me a C-Co-Coc-Cock... erm from the East end. It's also been my Nemesis, twice now. The last time I should have died. I'm living on borrowed time.

But you're from 'up North', how can you have been born down there?? Erm ... time warp ... rupture in the time-space continuum ... shhhht or I'll never get back across the border post!!

The place has changed a little. A new sparkly big bookshop up the road and some whizzy high street renovation, but other than that, the same leafy suburb. I arrived late after the driving marathon and by the time I'd unloaded my kit, I was knackered.

I spent two and a bit days fixing, decorating and gardening, oh and shopping for bits. I'm not sure why this always takes so long in London. By the time you've been to the rubbish tip, the DIY store, IKEA and the Internet café's that have gone out of business by the time you get there, you've lost a day. Luckily for me, PC World have a free internet café now and I found out that if you smile nicely and make house buying noises, a property agent might just lend you his desk and PC for half an hour.

Last morning was spent in the kitchen with a suspicious musty smell that I had been noticing and that I traced to the washing machine. Opened the powder drawer and I kid you not, black slime and things crawling. Now this is a nice shiny spaceship kind of washing machine on the outside. If I washed my sweaty t-shirts in here I'd have to throw them out afterwards.
?? How can people live like this ??
Disinfectant, grime remover and an hour's graft got rid of most of the nastiness.

I must remember that after fixing the hot water tap, if there's no water flow then there's no point in dismantling the entire mechanism and sticking a barbecue skewer down the pipe to find the blockage. It actually helps much more to remember to turn the stop cock back on. Oh yes, and it helps to turn it on after re-assembling the tap, not before. What a mess!

I won't bore you with the 'paint on my bits' experience. It was hot, I had to wear shorts and there were splashes, OK? Luckily it was emulsion.

Shifting across town a bit now ... just before I moved away the last time, I briefly got to know a couple of new neighbours, so a really nice surprise was meeting them again and being invited for dinner. They'd finished some work on their flat and it was looking grand and full of really interesting character, windows stripped back to original wood frames.

Well what a fascinating pair of ladies. One a Londoner and one German, a travel consultant and a biologist. Intriguing, challenging, interesting and contentious conversation. I won't repeat the discussion here, far too controversial and politically incorrect, but it bounced between current events in the middle east, Baader Meinhof and growing up in the late 60's and 70's. So interesting to hear an honest German perspective on Lebanon. Oh yes, very intelligent people and darned good looking too.

I was wondering if I'd nudged the evil love queen awake again, but irony of ironies, these girls were, how can I put it, 'partners'. AAAaaaaaargh!!! Fiddlesticks and frazzled carrots!

Yes I have to tell myself it's all for the best really :-/ Still, it was a small but valuable stitch to add to my little list of fascinating experiences on this world.

Listening to: Janis Joplin, "Combination of the Two"
Wishing: I was a Bunnygirl

Oxyrhynchus papyri lady

The other day BBC2 ran a programme about decoding papyri found in the ancient Egyptian city of Oxyrhynchus which include extensive transcriptions of ancient Greek literature. I think the program might be a repeat of a repeat from 2002.

Two things happened. It was a fascinating program, and I fell head over heels in love. One of the contributors interviewed was a lady with a warm and very wonderful personality, who was giggling while telling us of the transgressions of an Oxyrhynchus' inhabitant and his attempts to seek incantations and magical remedies for revenge and sexual relief.

Great history yes, but I've fallen in love with her beautiful laugh and its been making my toes wiggle.

To a beautiful papyri lady: in the unlikely event you should ever read this post, all I'm trying to say is that you made me smile and cheered up an otherwise dreary evening.

Thank you.

Listening to: Nick Cave, "Somethings gotten hold of my heart"
Feeling: historically curious (no, really!)

A 3 pin plug with a fuse

Just back after a few days travelling and I now see another interesting 'feature' of blogging interactively. In roughly four days, everyone else has been chattering away on their blogs and I have a very large amount of thought provoking, challenging and plain fun stuff to read. I mean like this ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... .. much!

I need to employ several more of me to be able to comment on all this, so if anyone is at a loose end and can plug directly into my head ... (please read the safety warnings first)

There are a few things queuing up in my little burrow but it takes me a long time to write. Firstly though I need to pay homage to a papyrus person ...

(Please don't hang around in suspense. Waiting for my brain to work is like watching paint dry.)

Listening to: Slade, "Everyday"
Feeling: tired just looking at all this wonderful reading material

Have a blob

I'm sitting here with insomnia and a glass so nothing I say can be relied upon. Internet radio is steaming down the broadband, lots of strange French people singing and playing accordions from Radio Blagon in Bordeaux. It's varied, catchy, funny and quite wonderful. If you're curious, use Windows and have Winamp, I think you can just click the weblink and listen without further ado. If you have Linux, you probably already know what to do. Haven't got a clue how it works for a Mac, sorry.

For almost two months, I've blogged over at 20Six. I don't really know what I expected but in that time I've had the pleasure to speak with a floaty person and been visited by a speeding Time Lord. I hopped across the English channel and found that I could say hello in French with ink and paper. I've been greeted by a wiley bird and a green eyed cat, been influenced by shoe-less person under a monsoon and solaced by a journeying blue spirit. I've conversed with a Welsh birdy person, and chatted all manner of HTML naughtiness with a nurse (lots of others too, omissions are not intentional but simply a result of a faulty memory).

These exchanges have been invigorating and I'd just like to say a thank you to everyone who has left a comment there. This isn't a "I'm closing my blog, so goodbye and thank you" (you wish!) post. Tee-hee, health allowing I'm going to be annoying everyone for a while yet. It's just more of a credit to what is simply a friendly community over at 20Six.

Bouncy blob has been following me around for the past few of hours so I brought him/her/it along to say hello ...

Listening to: Paris Combo, "Living room"
Experiencing: a complete inability to sleep

HELP: Anyone have a remedy for insomnia? It's becoming annoying now. Especially as the rest of you are snoozing.

Choices

After reading Sketches thought provoking post which touched on drugs, hardship and abuse, I found myself thinking about choices.

When we're young we're influenced by a lot of complex factors which can be difficult to unravel at the time.

Speaking from personal experience, I had socialisation from my parents, schools, 'friends' and the wider community. My parents had strong feelings of pride, expectations of career paths and specific ideas about how they wanted me to develop. At school, I learned a little about education and a lot about abuse. I suffered peer pressure as we all do (all manner of beasties here) and then of course there was everyone else (wider family and society).

In addition to all the normal stuff, children are sometimes exposed to abuses and cruelties that they really shouldn't see. While trying to understand these alien experiences we can easily be subject to extreme feelings of anger, stress, worry, and self doubt which can be potentially destabilising.

And of course life is transient. Our developing state of mind can change radically over weeks and months because while we are young we are continually striving to make sense of all these influences and also develop within ourselves.

The older me has learned that feeling proud is something that comes from positive energy and is simply about a personal reward I get for seeing a person or an idea develop. When I was younger I had a kind of desperate pride. A destructive pride that could forgive cruelty and excuse all manner of ill deeds.

For myself, there were periods when I was terrified, in a way I simply can't describe, to just walk out of my house. I ran away from home when I was 12 and someone (how can I say this safely ...) who had a very strong influence on me, was committed to a psychiatric institution for a considerable time. I had to grow up and experience all the normal pressures with these (and other) background influences but I don't consider myself to be unusual or particularly disadvantaged. We all have ghosts buried somewhere from childhood and many people have grown through far worse.

All I'm saying in this bit is that when we look at people, things aren't always as they seem. When I hear or read about cases of abuse, drug addiction, violence involving young people, I don't find myself judging or rationalising. How could I when I don't know the full context?

So, what's my point?

When we're young we don't have a lot of wisdom to spend when making choices. Sometimes our choices are made as a result of confusion and reaction to difficult events.

I don't see anything today that will eradicate hardship, drugs or abuse. But I feel what's important for the individual is what happens after these experiences. It's how we extract ourselves from this that defines us.

It takes wisdom to choose the right path
It takes strength to come back after having chosen the wrong path.

I'd like to conclude now but I've run out of spoons and lost my thread. I might re-read this tomorrow to see if it made any sense.
..
It's tomorrow, I re-read it. The writing is awful but I'll get confused if I try to change anything so it's staying.

Your name is your signature

A sobering news article suggests that a High Court judge needs only your typed name on the end of a plain text, unencrypted email to prove intention under current English law.

As the article says, it almost cost one person £25K so it might pay to be careful when signing your emails in future.

Posted by Bunn a garden gnome.

Roly-poly Britain

Since we're having an excess of seaside weather I was wondering why we couldn't have more seaside. I mean it's quite inconvenient that people have to work in hot offices and cities when they could be somewhere much nicer with lots of lovely cool sea air.

So my thoughts meandered (good for me, bad for everyone else) and I wondered if we could reshape the British Isles. I was thinking of a roly poly, you know the type of thing we get when we're making French bread from dough. If we rolled it out so it was really long then we should be able to make it just wide enough for the widest building, and a road (not for all those people who insist on hurrying - they'd have to swim, but for those who couldn't get around so easily) and a sandy beach on each side. We don't want it to stretch up to the Arctic because it would be too cold there so I was wondering about a curly wurly shape.

It might look something like this (now you see why I'm not an artist):

Now I know people in hospitals and emergency services would still have to work, but at least they's be able to pop out at tea break and catch a sea breeze. And the rest of us could bring them nice cool vanilla 99's and things because there would have to be a decrease in the making of submarines (the crews would get dizzy) and an increase in the making of floating ice-cream vans.

We wouldn't need cars any more because we could put a railway track along the middle so that would help our government meet its carbon targets and people with roadrage could play ludo instead of making steam.

There's just one problem with this plan. I haven't left much room for hills and mountains and these are really important because that's where we'd have to put the supermarkets. Just think that after puffing and sweating your way up for the weekly shop, you'd have lost so much body fat and be so healthy that you could eat whatever you wanted. Even naughty things like chocolate truffles and chocolate fudge cakes.

So I think we have to leave room for a very very thin mountain everyone few miles or so.

I do find myself wondering if there are any improvements I could make to this plan before I submit it to Mr Prescott?

Listening to: Morrissey, "The Youngest Was the Most Loved"
Wants: to build a sand castle