Creative Writing

“What on earth goes on in that house next door?” I moaned to Mr Man one night.
“With all that banging around they could be hiding a body under the floor boards for all we know!” I joked. Then thoughtfully I added: “You know, I should write a story about that…” And in my teens I probably would have, but I just don’t seem to have the creative energy any more.

School will be breaking up soon for summer. It was about this time of year in my final year at junior school when I started writing a story about a little girl called Elizabeth, who lived in a haunted house. It was obviously meant as school work originally, but when the school term ended I took my unfinished story home with me and continued writing throughout the summer holiday. In September I started a new school with new teachers, and when I showed my story to my new English teacher he encouraged me to continue writing it, even allowing me to write it during class time instead of having to do the assignments given to the rest of the class. I don’t even remember what happened to that story now; one of the many pieces of creative writing that was lost many years ago.

Throughout senior school this same English teacher was always positive about my writing and I often received top marks for short stories or scripts that I had written, which is ironic considering the low grade I received in my English exams.* Part of the problem was probably the fact that, although I liked writing, I didn’t like reading. I felt that reading was the death of creativity for me; my head would be filled with someone else’s story, someone else’s imagination, and not my own. Besides, it was boring.

When I reached my fifth and final year in senior school history seemed to repeat itself and once again I started writing a story, a script this time, which wasn’t to be completed until after I had left school. A friend of mine who had stayed on in sixth form took the finished script into school one day, to show my ex English teacher. He returned it with a simple message: “Get it published”. Unfortunately I never did, and then one day when I was having one of my “moments” I threw it away.**

That was about 18 years ago now. I’ve asked myself many times why I don’t feel able to be as creative anymore.

Do the pressures of life just eat away at our imagination? Do we get too wrapped up in the “real world” to play “pretend” in our minds? Maybe my expectations are too high now, and I fear failure, which in turn stifles creativity? When I was younger I just enjoyed the experience of writing; who did I need to impress? Only my English teacher if I wanted good marks, but to be honest I didn’t care about school marks. I just wrote for me.

I need to get back to that; writing for me. There are several things in life that tell me I need to do it - often when I am reading or watching TV I feel “dissatisfied” with the outcome of the stories. In these circumstances one of several things will happen:

1. I’ll predict the ending, leading to the over used joke in our household where Mr Man asks: “How did you know that?” and I reply with “I wrote it”


2. I’ll get frustrated with story lines not being developed properly and end up wishing I had written it.


3. Or I’ll just get bored and stop reading or watching the thing altogether. (Or a combination of all three)

So you see, I need to write a story – for me. For the satisfaction. I can choose my characters; I can choose my ending. What better indulgence is there for someone as spoilt as I am?




*There were only two teachers who ever seemed to appreciate my writing; he was one of them, and the other was when I was schooled in Wales for a brief period.

**I’m not a hoarder and I have these moments when everything has to go in the bin, and then I spend the rest of my life regretting it. I wish now that I had kept a copy of everything I had ever written.

The Brutally Honest Personality Test

I just strolled over to Catherine’s blog and I found the results to this personality test she had taken hilarious, so I couldn’t resist taking the test myself. Being as indecisive as I am, I found some of the questions quite hard, and to be honest there were times when neither option applied to me – like: who is better looking, Bill Gates or… some other incredibly ugly bloke, I can’t even remember his name.

Anyway, this is my result. The funniest thing is that it’s actually true! You won’t believe that as I glanced through the list at the bottom before taking the test I thought to myself “I’m probably a clown”.

Your Score: Clown- ESFP

53% Extraversion, 33% Intuition, 20% Thinking, 33% Judging

Congratulations. You are the buffoon of society, the class clown, the general funny guy/gal. Your purpose on earth was to serve as entertainment for the rest of us sane ones. We're laughing with you and at you. Some people would kill to be as funny as you. Other would rather just kill you.

You're spontaneous, fun-loving and optimistic. You're all in all an idiot.

You wanna know why? It's because you would rather have fun than concentrate on your duties and obligations. You act before you think. You talk before you think. All in all, you don't think that much at all.

You did terribly at school, didn't you? You were the class clown. Paid no respect to the teachers or to your fellow students. Paid no attention to your school work. And look where you are now... starting to regret your decisions?

Get down to earth. Find a real job and start taking care of your responsibilities. Sure, people love you, but they don't love you because they like you. They love you because you make them laugh. They love you because they can always look at you and say "Well, at least I did better off than him or her!"

...but at least you're funny, right?

*****************

If you want to learn more about your personality type in a slightly less negative way, check out this.

*****************

The other personality types are as follows...

Loner - Introverted Sensing Feeling Perceiving
Pushover - Introverted Sensing Feeling Judging
Criminal - Introverted Sensing Thinking Perceiving
Borefest - Introverted Sensing Thinking Judging
Almost Perfect - Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiving
Freak - Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging
Loser - Introverted iNtuitive Thinking Perceiving
Crackpot - Introverted iNtuitive Thinking Judging
Sap - Extraverted Sensing Feeling Judging
Commander - Extraverted Sensing Thinking Perceiving
Do Gooder - Extraverted Sensing Thinking Judging
Scumbag - Extraverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiving
Busybody - Extraverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging
Prick - Extraverted iNtuitive Thinking Perceiving
Dictator - Extraverted iNtuitive Thinking Judging

Link: The Brutally Honest Personality Test written by UltimateMaster on OkCupid, home of the The Dating Persona Test

So there you have it. It’s slightly depressing knowing that my finest quality is my sense of humour when I know damn well I’m not even that funny! I don’t know if anyone else noticed this but the percentage of each aspect of my personality totalled more than 100%... and I’m supposed to be the one with no brains!

Today’s Top Tip

Don’t forget to add detergent when you put your washing on.

Goodbye, Mr. Chips

It was a sad day when the chip shop at the end of our road closed. It had been there for at least 30 years from my memory, maybe longer. Strangely enough, I actually lived in this very same road when I was a child. My Mum used to see me across the road and then after I’d got our fish and chips I’d wait by the lamppost for my Mum to see me back across the road again.

The little row of shops that has stood there for so long is now being knocked down, to make room for more flats.

“I forgot to get a loaf of bread when I popped out for loo roll last night” I said to my Mum on the phone today.
“Can’t you just nip to that shop?” she asked.
“What shop?” I asked, confused.
“The shop at the end of your road” she replied.
“Mum, that shop hasn’t been there for the whole time I’ve lived here, and I’ve been here for 10 years in August!” I replied.

My Mum’s often a bit scatty, but where on earth has she been for the past 10 years?

“I’d heard that the chip shop was closed, but I didn’t know the shop had closed as well” she said.
“Mum, that shop hasn’t been open the whole time I’ve lived here!” I laughed. “They’re knocking that row of shops down now to build flats” I continued. “Anyway, was the chip shop run by an Italian family when I was a kid?” I asked.
“No, it was an Indian family. Don’t you remember the shop?” she replied.
“The chip shop?”
“Don’t you remember it?” she asked again.
“The chip shop Mum. Not the shop. The chippy”
“Oh I thought you meant the shop”

Blimey, it’s like visiting an old peoples home. I wouldn’t mind, but she’s only 57.

“You could do with a shop there really” she continued.
“Well, I know, but it isn’t going to happen now is it? They’re knocking it down!” I swear she’s a few chips short of a bag herself sometimes, bless her.
“I know; it’s a shame…”

Life on Mars

It’s like nowhere you’ve ever been before. Everyone seems to know each other, and they all stand around in little groups chatting. The locals speak in a strange tongue, with words including ent, kent, shent, wunt, gooing and gonna. The elderly folk greet each other with “Er yoo or-roite me dook?” the literal translation of which is “Are you alright my duck?” This is a local expression which means something like “Hello my friend. How are you?” Strangely, there are no children to be seen anywhere.

It’s the local supermarket on a Saturday morning.

Oddly, the atmosphere is quite relaxed. There is no pushing or shoving; no shouting or screaming. I walk around wondering if I am in a dream. There is an orderly queue at the bakery section of people waiting to have their freshly baked loaves sliced. A slightly younger generation of shoppers quietly sing along with Dionne Warwick as they go about finding their goods of choice. The non offensive atmosphere is almost eerie. Am I mad, in a coma, or back in time?

I get to the checkout and I start putting my shopping onto the belt. It’s at this point that I realise that these Saturday morning folk have some bizarre superstitions. Apparently it is incredibly bad luck to allow two peoples shopping to touch.

The woman in front slowly turns her head to look at my shopping. She’s not really looking at my shopping; more the gap in-between her shopping and mine. I look up at her and she quickly looks straight ahead. I continue to unload my basket and I sense that her eyes are turning towards my shopping again. She shuffles uncomfortably and then impatiently looks to see if she will be served soon. The belt moves and the shopping starts to wobble. She is starting to inwardly panic. Did our shopping touch? A divider becomes available and she quickly grabs it. She sighs with relief. So do I; I don’t know what would happen but judging by the reactions of the woman in front it must be something catastrophic. Naturally then, when the gentleman behind me starts to put his shopping on the belt, I do the same. I hold on to my bottles of pop to make sure they don’t roll towards this mans shopping.

I finally make it safely to the checkout. Oh great; it’s the miserable bloke who tries to read my signature upside-down. Now I know this isn’t a dream. I anticipate a more true to life, stressful ending to my shopping trip.
“Would you like any help with your packing?” the old man asks. I only have a few items.
“Er…no. Thank you.” I stammer nervously. I hand him my card and he barely glances at it.
“Enter your pin please” he requests.

I don’t believe it. I got through the whole experience stress free. A smile breaks out across my face as I walk back to the car. I get in the drivers seat and close the door.


Damn. I forgot the potatoes…

Say Cheese

I ate my cereal with gone off milk today. I have a stinking head cold and everything tastes gone off, so I thought it was just me. But no, the milk is off. My tummy told me so.

Despite having this dreadful head cold, fever, aches and pains all over, belly ache, and watery poo; I couldn’t get my loving brother to fetch a carton of milk for me (he made some excuse about having to work 12 hours every day this week), so this evening I dragged myself out, with Mr Man in tow, to the local 24 hour supermarket.

I hate shopping at the best of times. It makes me want to kill people:

I hate shoppers.
Why do they always have to stand or leave their trolley directly in front of the shelf you want to look at? And have you noticed that if you try to get to the shelf from a different angle they move so that they are still blocking your way? They walk incredibly slowly and sway from one side of the isle to the other so that you can’t pass them, and then they stand around and make you feel like you are in their way. The whole thing makes me feel so stressed that I can’t think straight until they have gone.

I hate shop workers.
They do the same thing as the shoppers but with their huge cages full of boxes. They burst through swinging doors with them and nearly run you over. They block the isles and leave boxes lying around everywhere. They stand there looking at you, and they make you feel rushed because you’re obviously in their way while they are trying to do their job. The whole thing makes me feel so stressed that I can’t think straight until they have gone.

I hate the shop.
Either they’ve sold out of whatever it is that you want or they don’t stock it anymore. Those loyalty cards that they give you are so that they can keep a record of what you buy on a regular basis, so that they can stop selling it. They change everything around in the shop so that you can’t find anything that you want and have to spend more time in the store feeling harassed by shoppers and workers. It’s not unusual for me to abandon my trolley and walk out of the store in sheer frustration. The whole thing makes me feel so stressed that I can’t think straight until I have gone.

I hate the noise.
The noise of those flippin’ cages being dragged along is absolutely deafening. I can’t think straight with the constant mindless chatter of the workers, and the incessant bleeping of the tills. And as for those self service tills… I want to smash a brick through the screen to shut the stupid voice up:
“Please scan your first item please scan your first item please scan your first item please scan your first item…”
Ok! I've scanned my first item already! Damn you, just shut up you stupid worthless piece of...
I’ve actually put my fingers in my ears whilst waiting in a queue before now.

I hate the journey there and back.
On the way to the supermarket tonight I saw an RAC van which had stopped at the side of the road. In my rear view mirror I noticed the car behind me indicating to over take both me and the van, because obviously I didn’t want to over take the van myself; I wanted to drive straight into it.

On the way home was another numpty van driver approaching the same round-a-bout as me from the right. I decided I had enough time to pull out, but then had to break as this person decided to take a short cut by going the wrong way around the round-a-bout. That’s one way of cutting down on fuel consumption I suppose…

Of course on the way home I have the added stress of being able to hear my shopping falling out of the bags and rolling around in the car.

I hate shopping. I really hate shopping.

Confused

I had no inkling at all. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. I wasn’t worried, neither was I hopeful.

Mr Man, on the other hand, was impatient for an answer. Saturday night I took a test, but the faint blue line which threw me into panic wasn’t even visible to Mr Man with his glasses in another room and with poor night lighting. He was satisfied enough to get a good nights sleep.

I, on the other hand, was awake for a good deal longer, worrying about how he would react once he realised the truth.

I had to confess my concerns to him the following day, and after the initial shock and panic had worn off he seemed fine. The line was very faint though, and I needed to be sure. I took another test this morning… actually I’ve taken five in all over this weekend, and the only test to give a positive result was the first one I took, which was what started all this confusion in the first place.

So, I had a plan…



In the good old days women used to wait two months before consulting their doctor.

En Route to Madness

Map reading is my new hobby. I bought an A-Z Street Atlas for our town and surrounding area yesterday and I have to say that it’s absolutely fascinating; I can’t put it down.

Mr Man keeps saying “I can’t believe you’re so engrossed in a map!” He thinks I’ve finally gone to Cuckoo Land.

I would, but I haven’t found it on the map yet…

Hide and Seek

Hide and Seek was a 1984 single for family pop band “Five Star”.

I was suddenly awakened by a sharp slap to the face. Startled, I raised my head, squinting, trying to avoid the glare of the light. My cheek was stinging, almost burning, but the sensation was quickly overshadowed by the pain of my other afflictions which I was blissfully unaware of whilst in my drug induced slumber. My body was stiff and aching from being tied in this awkward position for so long. My wrists were sore with open wounds from the friction of the rope. My head was pounding from whatever they had injected into me.

“Where is it?” he demanded.
I could hardly see him through the light, shining full in my face. I could hear his footsteps coming towards me on the bare floor boards. The room sounded empty. Suddenly the smell of dust and wood was replaced by the smell of aftershave and mouthwash as he pushed his face into mine, pulling my head back by my hair. I let out a cry.
“Where is it?” he hissed.
“I don’t know… I don’t know what you’re talking about” I croaked as tears welled up in my eyes.
He released his grip, throwing my head forward.
“Don’t play games Roberta. We know you have the recording” he said calmly as he walked away and disappeared out of my vision again. “I have someone searching your home right now, as we speak”
My tears began to spill from my eyes. I couldn’t be strong any longer. I was exhausted. I was in so much pain. And I was scared.
“Please… I don’t know anything” I sobbed.

At that moment my cries were suddenly halted by the sound of the door opening. Footsteps followed. I couldn’t see what was happening; the light was too bright. All I could do was listen:
“Well?”
“Nothing”
“What do you mean ‘nothing’?”
“Nothing. I searched everywhere; the car, the laptop, the CD player… all I could find was rubbish music”
“Detail it. What did you find?”
The other man sighed heavily as he searched his memory “Ok, in the car stereo was Craig David ‘The Story Goes…’” he began. “In the glove box was all kinds of rubbish; more Craig David, Lionel Richie, Bill Withers…”
“I like Bill Withers” the boss interrupted.
The other man hesitated “Ok. Well, anyway there was also a Duets tape with soppy love songs, a ‘Motown Heartbreakers’ tape, and get this… Five Star” I could hear a crack in his voice as he stifled a laugh. The boss was not amused.
“Did you listen to it?” he demanded.
“Of course I did” replied the other man “Well, you know, just to check that the recording wasn’t on it”
“Ok, what else?”
I heard the rustling of paper.
“In the CD player was songs from the Movies, you know, old stuff; Frank Sinatra, Judy Garland, that sort of thing. In the cassette player was Billy Holiday. Lying around the place was a Leslie Garret cassette, again with songs from old Movies, and a Declan CD”
“You’re kidding” scoffed the boss.
The other man chuckled “No, serious”
“That little boy that the old grannies liked?”
“Yeah”
They chuckled together for a while and then the boss suddenly stopped.
“Ok, that’s enough, what else?” he asked sternly.
The other man stopped laughing and cleared his throat “On the laptop she’s recorded loads of Sheryl Crow stuff, but the last thing she had listened to in Winamp was Mariah Carey”
“And what about her mobile phone?”
“Stevie Wonder ‘As’ when you press play, and Stevie Wonder ‘Sir Duke’ as the ring tone. Actually, loads of Stevie Wonder, and some chart stuff as well”
There was a pause for a while.
“I listened to it all boss; there’s nothing there”
Another pause followed.
“Ok, get rid of this chick” he said to the man, and then as he walked towards me again he raised his voice slightly “Well, it looks like you’re free to go, beautiful; you’re guilty of nothing more than having no taste in music”
He switched off the light and all I could see was blobs in front of my eyes. I heard his footsteps fade as he walked out of the room, and after the other man had untied me, he followed, quietly singing to himself; “Hide and seek, it’s just a game we’re playing, hide and seek. Swear I’m gonna find you, sneaking up behind you, hide and seek…”

I was left sitting there, alone, as if I had imagined the whole thing. They left no evidence of ever being there, apart from the chair I was sitting on. As I struggled to my feet I could see the first glimpse of sunlight through the window. It was going to be a beautiful day. And I still had the recording…



This post is in response to the Music Meme that Jane tagged me with ages ago! Each tagged person is supposed to list the first 10 songs on their ipod when they select “random”, but although I own an ipod, it’s hidden somewhere in the depths of the abyss – also known as a cupboard – and I never really used it much anyway so it doesn’t have all of my music on it. So I decided to go to the 5 things I use most often to listen to music - the car stereo, the CD player, the cassette player, my laptop, and my ‘phone – and list what was in them at that time. Now I’m supposed to tag 5 people…

I would like to tag Catherine, Rhea, Hobby Bobby, SirBusy (although he might be too busy), and… … Grannys.Myth.Peeler.

Just Read

Not meant as a command but as a kind of play on words as in the post I make reference to “Just Another Thought…”, “JustGiving” and “Just Smile…”

I’ve been meaning to do a blog roll and side bar update for what seems like forever. (Of course, if you’ve read my previous post you’ll realise that I haven’t actually written a blog post for millions of years now, but I have travelled back in time to update my blog, so to the average unenlightened reader it looks like it’s only been a few months since I last did a blog roll update, which is far from forever)

You’ll notice a couple of new blogs listed. One of them, “Just Another Thought…” is written by my dear friend Aiders. We actually lived opposite each other when we were 14-16 but then lost touch when we left school and both moved to other areas. Thirteen years later we got in touch with each other again through Friends Reunited and I’m glad to say have stayed in touch ever since. I didn’t know back then that she had such a great talent for writing, but her poems are beautiful. Thankfully she has chosen to share some of them with us in her blog.

You’ll also notice that there are two links to “JustGiving” supporting two different sponsored events. The first is for my friend Dawn Morley, who is running in the Race for Life this year to raise money for Cancer Research UK. This charity is the worlds leading independent organisation dedicated to cancer research, and with an estimated 1 in 3 suffering from cancer at some point in their life, I dare say many owe their lives to this valuable research. I know cancer has claimed at least 3 lives in my family, not to mention the friends lost, and the friends and family who have been successfully treated. Both Dawn and her teenage daughter will be running in memory of Dawns Dad who sadly died of cancer nearly two years ago. The race will be very challenging for Dawn as she has never done anything like this before, but obviously the charity is one that is close to her heart.

The second is for a team of LAS Paramedics who I don’t know from Adam. They’re climbing the three highest mountains in England, Scotland, and Wales in a 24 hour period - hell, it would be challenging enough without the time restriction. They are climbing to raise money for The Richard House Childrens Hospice, which provides support and care for children who are not expected to live into adulthood. Angela (the author of Just Smile…) has done some of her nurse training in this hospice, and she explains that it is a very valuable service that is suffering due to lack of funding. Previously Angela had told me about the services this home struggles to provide:

“[The] children's hospice… offered respite and end of life care. They had a lovely, recently built facility that offered residential and day care… The day care service was no longer offered because of funding... Most of this purpose built facility wasn't being used and during my placement they were making staff redundant…”


I sincerely wish Dawn and the Paramedic team every success in their upcoming challenges. Although Dawn has already exceeded her target amount, wouldn’t it be great if she could raise 150% (£225)? Or even 200% (£300)? I will gladly pass on any messages of support, but if you’re a blogger, please link to these two fundraising events on your blog. Thank you!

Daydream Believer

“Roberta!” shouted the teacher, forcing me to turn my attention to her from outside the window. With the hum drum chitter chatter of a classroom full of 7 year olds it was easy to drift away.

There was one word that linked every school report I ever had – Daydreamer. It wasn’t true though. I wasn’t so much daydreaming as day… sleeping... with my eyes open. I used to go into a trance like state with my eyes fixed on whatever was right in front of me, but not really seeing what was there at all. It’s a habit I’ve carried right into my adulthood, caused mainly by lack of sleep.

I remember when I was in my teens, sitting on the floor enjoying a game of cards with a male friend of mine. While he spent some time taking his turn I kind of drifted off into one of my trances. Looking up from his cards he noticed where my eyes were resting and suddenly moved to cross his legs, and it’s only then that I realised I was staring at his crotch. Neither of us said a word, I just took my turn and we continued playing cards, and it’s never been mentioned to this day. God knows what he thought. I wonder if he still remembers it.

I still do it now – go into trances I mean, not stare at my friends’ crotch. The worst time of course is when I’m driving...



Although written by John Stewart from the folk group The Kingston Trio, Daydream Believer was originally recorded by The Monkeys, providing them with their last #1 hit in 1967.

Once Upon a Time…

Are you sitting comfortably? I’m going to tell you a story. It all happened a very long time ago but my memory of events are still as sharp as ever.

Now, we’ve all heard of the great feats of mankind – climbing Mount Everest; travels to the North Pole; even landing on the moon – it would seem that there is no conceivable place on earth, or anywhere else for that matter, that man has been unable to leave an impression – a boot impression that is.

But this was a place that no man had ever trod.

Much like a message in a bottle which is washed out to sea, many had written their hopes, their dreams, their cries for help, and the secrets of their heart, and sent them out to this place in the hope that someone – anyone – would respond to their call; not knowing if, by whom, when, or where that message would be opened and read. Oh yes, in that sense man had left a very big impression on this place. I dare say if this place really was like the sea there would be millions of bottles all floating together, all different shapes and sizes. I can almost hear the chorus of clinking chinking sounds right now.

Yes, it was a place in Cyber Space, known as The Blogosphere. This is where my little story begins.

Isn’t it amazing that we can look right into Cyber Space and even view events on the Blogosphere in detail through our powerful Cyber telescopes (computers) and yet no man has ever stepped foot there? Even water has been walked on. Anyway, one day on the Blogosphere I saw a bottle floating towards me, figuratively speaking of course, that had my name on it. I opened it and found…

...a Meme. *dud dud daaaah* (dramatic music)

What would I do? Would I respond immediately, or would I add it to my ever growing list of half finished blog posts? Yep, you guessed it; it went on my pile of “things to do”. That’s not to say that I didn’t appreciate having a Meme sent to me; what greater compliment could there be than someone else wanting to know my views and tastes? But… well… I wanted to be able to write my response and send on the Meme to others in an imaginative way. I wanted time to paint the bottle if you like; make it pretty.

I answered the questions and then filed it, waiting for the time, energy, and imagination to strike all at once. I waited. And I waited.

I continued waiting, and in the meantime I had 5 children and 12 grandchildren. Eventually it was time for me to be frozen in a pod. It was pretty routine by that time; a lot of people were being frozen, awaiting the time when mankind could reverse the aging process and cure mankind’s diseases.

Many years later I was thawed. I was surprised to see so many elderly looking people, as I was expecting to be released from the pod only after Scientists had found a way to reverse the aging process. It was then that they dropped the bombshell on me:

The Meme that was sent to me by Jane was of great importance, and by not responding to it I had inadvertently prevented essential information from being passed on through the generations – information that would have helped Scientist to find a way of reversing the aging process and cure many diseases. Without this information they were forced to resort to spending their time working out the mathematical formula for the perfect bacon butty.

The full weight of what they had said sat heavily on my shoulders.
“What can I do?” I asked, with tears stinging my eyes.
“Do you know where you stored this Meme?” they asked.
“Yeah, I think so”
“Go and get it, we need to see it”

So off I went. I was a little stiff I can tell you; I was well into my eighties when I was frozen and that was hundreds of years ago. The bus service wasn’t what it used to be either, and it was never good in the first place. I waited around for so long that I wondered if I would have been better off being frozen again until a bus came.

Finally I got home. I knew exactly where to look for the Meme; the funny thing is that although I hadn’t responded to it I thought about it often. It felt strange looking over those answers again that I had written all those years ago before filing it away. I couldn’t see anything that I thought would be of great importance to the future of mankind though. It read as follows:

Three Things That Scare Me:
1. The possibility of Mr Man seriously harming himself.
2. Spiders. Even photos or drawings of them, or places where they can hide like small toilets.
3. The thought of being bitten by rats, even though I’ve never actually seen a wild rat in my entire life.

Three People Who Make Me Laugh: (only three?)
1. Mr Man
2. Funky Monkey’s Mother
3. Grannys.Myth.Peeler

Three Things I Love:
1. Mr Man
2. My friends and family
3. Singing and dancing to good music

Three Things I Hate:
1. My own personality flaws
2. Stupid people (that answer covers a lot)
3. When I can’t find what I’m looking for

Three Things I Don't Understand:
1. My Mother in law
2. Other languages
3. People who deliberately hurt others, mentally, emotionally, or physically

Three Things On My Desk: (Well, next to me anyway)
1. My Laptop
2. My mobile phone
3. A glass of diet Pepsi

Three Things I'm Doing Right Now:
1. Thinking
2. Typing
3. Playing with my hair

Three Things I Want To Do Before I Die:
1. Publish a book
2. Write a film script
3. Write a song

Three Things I Can Do:
1. Ride a horse
2. Touch my toes without bending my knees (even though I’m old and fat)
3. Flip Pancakes

Three Things I Can't Do:
1. Back flips
2. Speak another language
3. See without glasses or contact lenses

Three Things I Think You Should Listen To:
1. The people you love
2. The elderly
3. Children

Three Things You Should Never Listen To:
1. Malicious gossip
2. Self doubts
3. Geri Halliwell

Three Things I'd Like To Learn:
1. How to play the Guitar
2. More crochet patterns
3. Ballroom dancing

Three Favourite Worst Foods: (I can’t do the “favourites”)
1. Dodgy “meats” like Liver, Kidney, Heart, Tongue…
2. Dodgy seafood like Prawns, Winkles, Muscles…
3. Mushrooms, except the dodgy ones (just kidding)

Three Shows I Watched As A Kid: (but there were so many)
1. The A Team
2. The Fall Guy
3. Heart to Heart

Three Wonderful People to Inflict My Meme On: (again, only three?)
Aiders
Angela
TP


Once I had returned to the… well, it was a secret location, but once I had returned there they agreed to freeze me again. That was millions of years ago now. I was thawed once more when mankind had found a way to return me to my youth – in more ways than one. Not only do I now look younger than I did in my thirties, but we also know how to time travel.

And that is the end of my tale, for now at least. I suspect that will only be the beginning of my story, because now that I have travelled back in time to post this Meme on my blog I have effectively changed the course of history and I have no idea what the outcome of my actions will be in the future. Oh well. You’re damned if you do, and you’re damned if you don’t.

There’s a Crow Among the Pigeons

The idiom “Put the Cat Among the Pigeons” means to create a disturbance or cause trouble, making others angry or worried. Thought to originate in Iran and India where Caracal cats were tamed and trained for bird hunting and put into arenas with a flock of pigeons where wagers were made on how many birds the cat could bring down.


Sheryl Crow has been on a “Stop Global Warming” College Tour in the US recently and has been quoted on BBC News as saying:
“I have spent the better part of this tour trying to come up with easy ways for us all to become a part of the solution to global warming” and her suggestions?
“I propose a limitation be put on how many squares of toilet paper can be used in any one sitting” Good luck with enforcing that one then. Anyone for toilet duty?

So just how many squares are deemed sufficient?
“…only one square per restroom visit…” What? I know everything is supposed to be bigger and better in America, but just how big are the squares of her toilet paper?

“…except, of course, on those pesky occasions where two to three could be required”

Yeah, yards not squares.

Obviously not an IBS sufferer.

The “Yoof” of Today

I saw an elderly man mowing a front lawn the other day. He looked so frail that I couldn’t believe he had the strength to push the mower; he looked like he was holding on for support if anything.

On the driveway stood a younger man who spoke to him occasionally and then stood and watched the old man struggle. Morbid curiosity made me turn the car around to drive by for a closer look. By this time the younger man had been joined by two teenage boys.

The elderly man continued mowing. The other three continued to watch whilst chatting. Teatime TV ain’t what it used to be.

Bringing Home The Bacon

Obviously the great minds of our day have found the solution to all of mankind’s problems and have left “Scientists” with little to do with their time and resources, judging by this article.

Apparently, 4 researchers at Leeds University have spent more than 1,000 hours testing 700 variations of the traditional bacon sandwich to determine how to make the perfect bacon butty.

I especially liked the last paragraph where the mathematical formula for the perfect bacon butty was explained in detail. I shall sleep well tonight.

Today's Top Tip

If you don’t want to wake up looking like a cross between Captain Caveman and Worzel Gummidge, don’t go to bed with wet hair wrapped in a towel.

Who Let The Dogs Out?

A UK #2 hit in 2000 for the Baha Men. Anslem Douglas originally recorded the song in 1998, but in 2001 he was sued by Patrick Stephenson and Leroy Williams, who had originally written the chorus for a radio jingle in 1995. The song has often been used at sporting events, the first use being in 1999 at a football game of the Mississippi State University, with a version sung by Chuck Smooth. (Who’s he?)


Unbelievably, both driving and shopping have been quite a joy of late – until this weekend...

Who let the stupid drivers out again? Every time I’ve been out in the car I’ve had to put up with some numpty driving right up my rear, almost close enough to push me along, or with their headlights shining in my mirrors, and I’ve even been beeped at a couple of times. I’d just like to point out that I don’t actually set the speed limits, ok? I just try to stick by them. You know, I’m just like anyone else; if someone is driving along at 20mph when the speed limit is 30 I get a tad irritated, but why get irritated with someone who is obeying the law and driving at the speed limit, just because you happen to feel that it’s not fast enough for you? Listen, if you want to get pulled over and given a speeding ticket that’s your business, but don’t try to push me into breaking the law/having an accident.

I was actually tempted to stop my car at a junction and get out to speak to the driver behind me this afternoon. I’d only just found out that a couple of people I know had been involved in a car accident and had been air lifted to hospital, and here was this loser, who had appeared from nowhere (obviously driving too fast to have caught up with me that quickly) and was driving right up my rear. These people annoy me so much. (Can you tell?) I had my niece in the car with me this evening so I decided to pull over and let yet another loser past as I thought it would be safer, but it’s not always possible.


Shopping on Saturday wasn’t so much irritating as embarrassing. Two women airing their dirty laundry in public and pointing their fingers in each others faces, and another woman waving her arms around as she shouted down her mobile phone “No, I won’t shut up! Jus’ get ‘ere now!...”, as well as the usual mothers screaming at their children like “fisher women”. Do these people have no shame?

What a Duffer...

Umm… yeah, I found out tonight why those star jumps were so blinkin’ hard to do…

I was at a friends house tonight, and experienced a strange desire to share my star jumping technique with her.
“I was doing star jumps earlier” I said, leaping out of my chair to demonstrate.
I stood in the centre of her living room and jumped up in the air whilst spreading my arms and legs out to the side at the same time, and then landing with my feet together and my arms by my side - a bit like a rather feeble attempt at those jumps they used to do in “Fame” when we were kids, but with my feet only leaving the floor by a few inches! My friend burst into fits of laughter.
“That’s not how you do star jumps!” she exclaimed, “You do them like this…”
She got up to join me in our jumping session. She jumped and landed with her legs apart and with her arms outstretched in one simple movement, and then jumped again as she brought her legs together and her arms down by her sides. She repeated this a few times before we had to stop through being doubled over with laughter.
“Oh. No wonder they were so hard to do!” I cried.
“Mr Man, how do you put up with her?” she asked, shaking her head.
“Hey, hang on a minute!” I protested through my laughs, “He was doing them like that as well…”

Today's Top Tip

If you’re overweight and extremely unfit, try to resist the sudden urge to do star jumps, no matter how strong the desire.

An End to Slavery?

There has been a lot of news articles recently about the 200th anniversary of the “abolition” of the slave trade, which apparently falls on Sunday 25th March.

The media has focussed a lot of attention on sex trafficking and described that as a type of slavery, as if the connection between the two has only just occurred to them, or as if they’ve only just discovered that it exists.

Wake up and smell your Fair Trade coffee.

And then there’s this little gem.

Personally I find it perversely hypocritical to say on one hand:

“We’re appalled that our ancestors used to treat their fellow man in this way. We’re so glad that we’re a civilised nation now, and don’t earn our fortunes through the slave trade anymore”

…and then on the other hand say…

“…but I’ll keep hold of my huge inheritance that was amassed through treating others in such an appalling way, thank you very much.”

If you wish, you can help to pay for the upkeep of their home which was built on slavery, and in exchange have a guided tour. Of course, being a charitable institution, you are encouraged to pay more than the base entry fee, thus enabling them to claim a further 28% from the government.

In keeping with the spirit of charity, entry is free on Sunday 25th March – the 200th anniversary of the abolition of the slave trade.

Happy anniversary.