Early morning glamour and accidental windows

They say that it is not what you see that forms your opinions but how you perceive what you see. I would like to put the record straight for anybody that saw me take a dive just outside the station at half past five yesterday morning, I was not drunk. I did, as we all instinctively do, turn around and see if anybody had spotted my disagreement with gravity and think it was all clear but thought I would clarify in case I missed somebody.  This was, of course, a further episode in my ongoing battle with Ms Nature. I had arisen to some pain and, more critically as it transpired, a pervading weakness in my knee never one to give in to such frivolities I pushed through my morning walk.

My principle remains that if I don’t succumb to the restrictions that my knee tries to introduce then it will tire of the game. I ploughed through to the station with little more than wince but a misjudged kerb presented the opposition with a window of opportunity and it struck home. The sudden weakness and accompanying pain wasnt expected and I crumbled, albeit briefly. After a quick assessment I realised the error and recovered, never actually hitting the ground, limping off in the correct direction whilst mentally scolding my adversary.

You may think it odd that I feel the need to clarify my position, few people would have assumed that I was drunk surely? Well I would have agreed with you but as I struggled on I passed a seating area which was occupied a middle-aged couple who would not have had the same defence. They were sharing, swig for swig, a bottle of Lambrini, remember it was half past five in the morning. In fairness I only wrote this post after seeing an advertisement for said ‘wine’ on the television last night and pondering the difference between the glitzy party image and the chilly winter’s morning scene.

In other news I was passed over by our legal system once again so await an update in the New Yea, fingers remain crossed that it won’t be too much longer. The odd thing was that the walk to the grocery store (thank’s DVLA) on Monday was a real relief and made me realise what a stress the 4 pm phone calls generate. The concept of knowing that I was in the hotel until Friday and not playing everything day by day felt like a genuine pleasure.

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Simmering bunnies and glossy hair

This morning I bring you two items from the weekend. Having mentally reviewed them I have concluded that whilst the opposite sex are strange women are in fact stranger. You are, of course, welcome to draw a different conclusion.

The first is from a friend who recounted an overly friendly encounter. Apparently he succeeded in extracting himself from a social situation that became overly amorous only to be greeted some time later by a knock on the door. The young lady involved had sought out our polite male and tracked him home. The thing that astounded me in this story was the armoury with which she arrived. A bottle of wine is a common ‘just passing’ gift but clearly she considered this too feminine for the occasion. So it was that my friend was greeted by said young lady carrying a bottle of wine and a single can of lager.

I was taken aback by this story and couldn’t deduce what hidden meaning was in the gift. Clearly this wasn’t the result of a visit to the shop but was it a the result of searching a barren cupboard? I think it was a more calculated collection either because sufficient beer had to be left at home to sedate the partner or because too much beer risked sedating the conquest.

During this discussion I received an sms from an ex girlfriend saying that she was outside my flat. Obviously I replied that I wasn’t home, since I was in the pub. The volume in the pub was such that I didn’t hear my phone and so it was not until a toilet break that I discovered a raft of sms. For me, as a man, it is fairly logical that if you visit uninvited then you may find nobody at home. It would appear that logic is not a religion shared by all. Following some small debate said woman tipped somebody’s pint over my head and left. There are a number of things that I can draw from this experience although somehow I doubt they were intended.

The first is an absolute lack of logic or self control, there was no reason for this soggy assault it was simply an act of frustration. Given the opportunity I would have suggested a witty line or eloquent discourse a much better means of dealing with the experience. The second is that people watch too many soap operas. People don’t tip pints over heads in the real world, this is a theatrical device beloved of the television. Quite simply there is no benefit to be had from the action, the recipient shrugs it off and the deliverer exits stage left. I certainly found that I dried very quickly and it was all rather tiresome. My friend commented that when she picked up the glass the last thing he expected was the contents over my head, he was ready to deal with far more serious actions. This is confirmation of my decision to remain single, I am simply no good at relationshits and have no more bunnies to boil.
The final observation is that, in keeping with some advertising, beer is good for one’s hair. Whilst not a convenient shampoo due to its scent beer really does make your hair glossy.

For those that are questioning my reasoning I ask one question, have you ever seen a man tip a drink over a woman?

Gorgeous, ghosts and strange smells

I was lucky enough to spend some time woth the gorgeous Aleisha yesterday, thanks Helen for the tip. If you ever have a day when you doubt your fellow human beings then I suggest you spend some time with foster carers. I am always humbled by the love and attention that these guys lavish on their wards. I love babies but I don’t think I could find the level of selflessness that meant I could pass a child onto adoptive parents, even though I know it’s the best thing.

Aleisha has some lovely adoptive parents lined up and soon she will start her new life with them. I know I will miss her, as I miss her predecessor Harriet, and I only see them breifly. For foster parents that have full time care it must be a difficult time, to have such dedication is quite inspirational.

It has also been an interesting weekend for science. I have confirmed that the only reason for a human to eat doner kebab is alcohol. In fact I have proven that the link between drunkenness and the revolving spit of doom is common to us all. Not only do we believe that this is actually food when we are drunk but it calls to us like a siren song.

My evidence for this is Dell who, having consumed a glass or two of wine, left the pub to walk home on Saturday. Dell is a long time confirmed vegetarian but on Sunday awoke to a strange smell in the house.

Yes he answered the drunks calling, sitting in the kitchen was the kebab he had purchased on the way home. In this we can see that the kebab had called to that deep subconscious that can only be accessed when drunk. Being a non meat eater allowed Dell to answer the call and satisfy the yearning without consuming the thing. There is a lesson here for those that are carrying some weight, buy it and bin it in the morning it still makes you feel better.

I think more experiments will be needed to understand what it is in a vegetarian brain that rejects this Pseudo meat. I have to call Blossom Hill today to see if we can arrange a research grant. I think Dell will be happy to participate, in the interests of science of course.

Science is also responsible for the fact that lefty has been giving me a lot more pain. Obviously science is being controlled by the evil Ms Nature but even she has to respect science. I cannot work out what I have done but my best guess is that I have forced the rotation into a new and uncharted area. Essentially all of the moving parts are gunged up with blood and debris from the accident and I have to work through these. I think that lefty has reached a blockage and we are now wearing it down. One thing I’ve never worked out is where all this rubbish goes? I understand why it’s there and that I have to wear it away but does it not just collect somewhere else?

In a final medical update I awoke this morning with a sore leg. Apparently I chose to answer the phantom itching on the donor site by scratching it. I say phantom itching because

Different pages

I watched the spectacle of ‘hopeful man’ last night, always entertaining. I don’t know what it is that makes men so optimistic especially in the face of such adversity.

So last night we had a man who was a number of years older than me. This man carried significantly more mass and less hair than me. His partner for the evening was mid twenties and very good looking. What is it that makes me say that he was optimistic? Could he not simply have been sharing a bottle of wine with a colleague?

The give away came when the young lady took a toilet break. Her partner leapt to the bar to procure a further bottle of wine, as quickly as possible. By the time his partner had returned he was explaining how ‘they just served me without me asking’.

The look on his young partner’s face said it all. I don’t know what facet of her career justified the evening but it was certainly a task. I am sure that the young lady returned to her room and called her partner bemoaning the long evening. I am equally sure that her partner collapsed on the bed convinced he was a step closer to company.

Point of note: when they say that power is an aphrodisiac they don’t mean area manager type power.

In other news, I walked into a meeting today and from the minute introductions were made I realised nothing would be achieved. The reason wasn’t conflicting ideas or team dynamics it was something much harder to overcome. There were two separate consultancy firms represented and there are no known cases where this has resulted in progress.

It is quite amazing to watch the carefully coreographed interaction between these people. The consultant’s language makes the discourse seem so energetic and vigorous whilst actually going in circles. The battle of the buzz words ensures that everybody feels that they have achieved, added value and been a team player. The reality, of course, is that the consultant’s have taken another days money in exchange for platitudes.

If you think my view of consultant’s is jaded then let me just say that I have overhead their planning sessions. If you truly want to know how to beat cancer I would suggest that you wouldn’t go far wrong starting with consultants. Brought in by organisations to change and improve the business they quickly expand their scope and become entrenched. No sooner than they are established they start calling in reinforcements, almost breeding.

Part of the skill set of a consultant is to always be busy. They find things to do and are most obliging in taking on more work. Invaribly consultants will be funded centrally so there is no visibility of true cost. Having invaded the host business they become an intrinsic part and people are scared to remove them. When the host realises the cost and moves to remove the consultants they quickly morph into smaller offshoots, rebranding themselves to grow another day.

The lesson for today? Human error prevention, with such gems as ‘tiredness moves you into the error making region’. The big sell, as always, is that other industries already do this. You are behind the times of course but the consultant can help you change your ways. Like small children the business leaders salvitate over the magic bullets that have helped other companies or industries. The truth is that we have different processes because we have different priorities and risks. I guess consultants are just expensive fairytales.

Anyone know a good hospital?

So far I have seen about 5 readings, they are only shown briefly, and the best (lowest) was 254/142 now I have no idea what that means so I consulted Dr Google! Oh I see it now Dr Google is no longer my friend, oh how he has turned with his graphs and statistics, none of which I appear on! Apparently they are not good numbers, well between friends they are actually quite bad.

Well I’ve considered the prospect of twice an hour ‘obs’ and how that fits my sleep pattern and have concluded a bottle of wine is well deserved. Investigation of the unit, its an engineer’s trait, reveals that it was due calibration in May 2012 so I’m thinking its out of date and the readings are not accurate but I think my test was flawed….. I wrapped it round the wine bottle for one test and the result was several error codes and no reading, its ok I won’t keep doing it and one miss read is to be expected!

My guess is it will, somehow, average ok and I won’t have the hassle of binning another set of drugs, high blood pressure indeed.