See Nipples and Die!…

See Nipples and Die!…whey-hey!…missus, I mean, see Naples and Die, sorry there, my eye sight’s going…Oh Danny-boy..the pipes the pipes…hello there mate, you reckon my car’s ok parked on a double yellow today, I’ve come all the way from Southgate…from glen to Glen…and down the mountain side…hello there!!!…Ah yes, every boozah must have a resident madman on Christmas day, and boy, did our local hit the jackpot…I goes to the bar, while he’s in the bog and the barman says to me, he with you?…I say, no, I thought you knew him, the way he’s shouting at you and the regulars…I say to my dad, don’t look at him dad, avoid eye contact or he’ll be over…Eventually, he’s worn out his welcome and he’s dispatched into the Christmas day cold and good bloody riddance to mad, bad, rubbish

Robinson Crusoe

It strange what loneliness, boredom and isolation can do to a mans brain over Christmas; I understand completely what went through Robinson Crusoe’s mind, or the Count of Monte Christo’s even when they took up the noble art of beard growing. I’m sure they, like me, tried the goatie, toyed with the full-on beardie and even had a stab at the Hitler look. My only wish was that the missus would’ve let me carry on with the growth, but she offered me a choice instead, loose the beard, or loose me…a tough one and I’m not completely sure I made the right decision, not yet anyway…maybe not ever

Jesus, is there anything worse than sailing passed your station last thing at night, fast asleep and pissed out of your head?...well, yes there is actually, and that's getting on the wrong bloody train in the first place and waking up at the end of the wrong line entirely!!...So, Tuesday night, or early morning I wake up in Enfield Town, after a great night out, and have to fork out for a bloody cab...£25 later I'm home, totally disgusted with myself...but not as disgusted with myself as I was the following morning when I'm puking down the bog, at my age, I ask you...spent the rest of the day piecing together the night before, wothout a lot of suscess
Today went to Audley End for a kids day out to see Santa's grotto in the woods, via a miniature railway trip. Kids loved it, freezing cold.
That's it. Happy Christmas.

Level checking

Last working day today, working from home, fifth day out of the office and I’m going a little stir crazy already; bloody good job I’m off out tonight for my second and last Christmas piss-up! Should be a good night out, lot’s of promised shows, but you know with this lot, always letting old stevie down....still, I’ll be there and that’s the main thing. Fuzzy details to follow, stand-by...

Yesterday the family and I went into town for a freezing wander around the park and shops and after lunch we all went back to bed for the entire afternoon, all being knackered. Then, the missus got ready for yet another night out with her mates…feeling sorry for myself, I found the key to the booze cupboard, and expertly raided it for some warming sherry…yes, sherry.
I know she’ll have gotten in last night and checked levels and seals on the bottles but fuckit I was sad and feeling sorry for myself; actually, note to self, replenish chrimbo booze supply before missus discovers horrible truth on Christmas day, when we’re “officially” allowed to have a drink from the booze cupboard....cheers!

Demis Roussos - "He's fantastic isn't he?"

‘Tis the season for Christmas parties and last night was the wife’s. Hertford’s Matalan hired the local sports club bar for the evening and everyone came along in his or her best Matalan tops and strides. I got a call about 10:00pm from a pissed missus saying they were off to Sky night club in town after the work do and I suspected the worst.
Sure enough, 1:30am she brought, what seemed, the entire home ware department home with her.
As the noise level increased, music and shouting rose up to me in my bed, I was transported back to the70’s, when my mother used to bring back friends from the pub. Those parties always resembled a warped kind of Abigail’s party, you know, plenty of bizarre and grotesque characters, lot’s of smoking and drinking and with Demis Roussos blaring in the background.
I’d patter down to the living room and wade my way through the throng to my mother , who’d invariably be sitting on some blokes lap, and ask her to turn the music down a bit as I had school the next day, only to be told to piss-off back to bed, and she’d hurl something at me as I’d make my escape, and one of her “friends” might lunge at me and I’d have to duck and weave my way back to the relative safety of my room to cry my eyes out.
It’s funny how, years later, the muffed sounds from a downstairs party can still have such a powerful effect on me.

Last night I lay in my bed but my head was in the 70’s

would sir like me to rub that for you sir?

My weekend.
Managed to get a pint of Kroni in Friday night with the boy before he started to complain about being ill and bored with me…so took him home and started on my bottle of red wine and the final couple of episodes of series 3 Star Trek: Voyager. I managed to stay at one bottle though, proud of myself I am.
Saturday, Ware Christmas festival, stalls in Tudor square, bands on every corner, special events in the museum and other places, made for a nice afternoon out. I bought the missus another present in a knicker emporium, bra and pants, £50!! Fucksake, I buy a 3 pack of pants for under a tenna!…the women in there, both old biddies and I go in there thinking, I’ll need some help her, so I say, "I don’t want anything tarty I want summat classy" and she says, looking down her nose at me, "I think you’ll find we only sell classy underwear here sir"…so, me backtracking say, "oh yeah, well, of course, I can see that", as I’m looking over her shoulder at a red and white combo with fur edging-comedy style bra and knicker piece.

I was hoping for some young lady shop assistant types to be honest so I could do my little-boy-lost routine and ask for help and they fall in love with me a little and mebbe even model a couple of outfits for me, but it wasn’t to be. In fact the old biddie helping me did suggest she put on a couple of the classier lines for me, noticing my semi-chubby-on no doubt, but I declined. I was, in fact getting a little horny, I must confess, it’s something about visualising women, I mean the missus, in all these weird and wonderful, see-thru and skimpy underwear I suppose and when the biddie says to me, does your wife wear thongs? And thrust a pair in my face, I nearly popped there and then I tell ya!. ....Hurriedly I got myself outya there with whatever I could grab, I just hope the missus appreciates the red and white combo with fur edging-comedy style bra and knicker piece, that’s all..

Sunday, lazy Steve day, took younger lad and bobby the cat for a walk into town

We gonna ring-rang-a-dong for a holiday!

You gotta watch what you say in our house these days, the smashers are liable to pick up on every little thing you say, every nuance is picked over and a slip of the tongue can leave the missus and I jaw-droppingly wide eyed…and yes, ashamed at times…
Take last night for example, there we all were, watching Holiday, with that irrigating new presenter Ginny Buckley, with her mouth that seems to move independently of the rest of her face and has her talking “off” camera about a topic, likes she’s chidder-chatn’ to a mate in a bar and we’re like, just, eaves dropping or something….or there’s her slow mo’ shots wandering, like a cloud, through cityscapes, forests, beaches etc ahhh! Get her off the telly!!!…any-hoo…we’re watching some ex-rough guide tosser, grinning from ear to ear like he cannae believe his luck he’s being paid to spend time in Bali when I innocently say, while watching a typical Kecak dance, “me so horny, me love you long time”…when, like an echo, the elder smash says, “me so horny, me love you long time”…and I look up, where he’s perched on the sofa, repeating over and over what I’ve just said, savouring these new exotic words as they roll innocently off his tongue; luckily the missus is washing up or something, so misses this, but I fear for the future, especially boxing day when her family gather…let’s see, how might it go…8 hour family day hell, no television, no music, long drawn-out silences, dull conversation, tired and bored children…when... "me so horny, me love you long time”…

Why don't you do something to help me?!

ah well, no, had a good evening without too much embarrassment as it goes. Half way through yesterday though I remembered I got up to dance at one point, but otherwise, reasonably guilt and embarrassment free evening. I had a plan see, get the 11:40pm train, so at 11:00pm I lumbered off to find me a cab. £20 quid and a Christmas present I bought the missus earlier, lighter, I'm on the train shouting down the mobile to a mate to collect the present I'd hung up with all the coats..That done, I settled down to sleep for the 50 minutes journey to Ware...or Hertford East as it turned out, having sailed passed my station, as per usual, on these kind of evenings...£10 later, the cab drops me home, having spent £30 on a "free" night out., I can't complain, food was nice n'all.

Wednesday, day off, recovering. Stayed in all day. sleeping and watching Laurel and Hardy.

oh christ...

Jesus...oh...god...no....nooooooooooooooooo!!

Christmas Party: I'm gonna pull me a cracker!

After spending almost 2 hours in the car, crawling home Friday, what I needed mostly was Kroni, and so it came to pass that, verily, I sank 2 pints before descending into the usual Friday blur of red wine, pizza, Star Trek and QI.
Saturday, went to Hertford for the annual rip-off “continental” market, where stall holders with very dodgy “European” accents try and con people into paying £5 for a loaf of French bread, I kid you not. But, clever we are, we opted for the bakery option of cold sausage roll before ascending the Hertford museum stairs to view the amateur railway enthusiasts layout, put on specially for the smashers of Hertford. The room, predictably, was full of weird and wonderful railway geeks, drooling over gauges, toy town models and engines.
That evening, after an afternoon of soul searching, I decided to drive into Whitechapel to meet up with an old friend, who I’ve not seen in a good while, who has decided to up-sticks and go and live in Thailand. The soul searching was, shall I go at all? Shall I get the train in, if I do go, or shall I just drive in? Laziness and the usual trepidation of late night train journeys forced my hand though.
3 shandy’s and a lemonade later, I’m ready to leave, boy I am I ready. Christine’s mates, for it is she who is leaving, are a mixture of Goths and School teachers, all nice enough, but when yir sober and waiting on the only other person you know, who’s promised to come at 7:30pm but turns up instead at 9:30pm, 3 hours is a long time. Job done anyway, you cannae say I didnae turn up, say ‘bye and good luck and here’s your Christmas card. No you can’t.

Sunday, lazy day, sounds wonderful, but that means, doing nothing because we’re skint, but it also means the smashers are bored out of their minds, so play up, leaving the missus and I exhausted. Lesson there somewhere. Watched Elf though, in the afternoon like, which was nice. That evening the missus goes out for her second meal that weekend, leaving poor old me to finish watching disc 6 of episode 3 of Star Trek:Voyager. Oh yes.

Tonight is the annual company Christmas party, my first work outing since joining the company. I’ve booked tomorrow off, so I can have a drink and not worry about anything. Stand by for depression, guilt, wishing I could turn the clock back 24 hours. Etc.

Can I have a Frisbee, pen, stress ball and mouse mat please?

I’m off to Online Expo in Earls Court Olympia today. It’s the highlight of the Industry’s year, where all the information vendors and providers get together to exhibit.
To be honest I’d rather not go, but have been “asked” to go by the boss. It’s usually full of middle to low ranking librarians or information/knowledge managers out on a jolly, away from the Office, stocking up on useless give-a-way corportate junk and I’ve sort of been there, done that; it’s not like much has changed over the years, same old companies, same old junk but with a newer front-end or summat…sigh…s’pose it beats work.
So, soon, I gotta get myself onto a train then tube, meet up with some people, wander about the Expo, go to some dull seminars about the “future” of Enterprise Search then struggle home in rush hour across London. Groan.