P.S.. S.A.D..

One other thing from yesterday that I wanted to share with you - another classic quote-of-all-quotes from Jared..
I’d been drunkenly moaning about how awful the August weather has been. I said that the main problem was that I need bright summers to build up my resistance against winter depression. Because there was so little sun in the past few weeks, I said, I could already feel the onset of S.A.D.
After staring at blank faces around the table, I went on to explain as clearly as I could about Seasonal Affective Disorder. Following a brief pause, a sickly-smiling Jared said “I had a rough weekend with a girl from Yarmouth, and left her with a kind of S.A.D……. Sticky Arse Disease.”
And the families at the tables around us tutted and huffed.
And the supermarket masses roared with delight.
And people wonder why I don’t work there anymore.
See you in September

RC 31-8-10

Who invited him anyway?

I’ve been hungover all day today.
I met up with some of the supermarket guys for ‘a lunchtime Bank Holiday drink and darts game’ which dragged on and descended into drunken-ness. I was holding my own and doing ok and getting ready to head home, when Jared started asking me about women and I found myself talking about Philippa. I did my usual half-cut trick of being far too loud and far too open, and promptly broadcast my feelings and thoughts to anyone within a ten-feet radius. One of the other guys at the table - a new recruit to the store called ‘Tommo’ or something - said “I know her. She used to work at my dads office. The thing about her is, she’s got a really great body, but she doesn’t know how to use it.”
I suddenly felt really sick. I don’t think I believe anything really happened between them, I think he was just trying to wind me up, but I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, and it made me feel really uncomfortable. Trouble was, I knew that if I made excuses and left, my feelings would be obvious, and he would have won. So I did what any man of my age would do in those circumstances - I drank through it….
As a result, I’ve spent all day today feeling absolutely awful, both physically and emotionally. If I opened my eyes, the room would spin and my stomach would churn; if I closed my eyes, I’d see an image of Philippa being frotted by that long-haired, lanky, devilishly-handsome bastard of a delivery driver. Not a nice day at all.

RC 31-8-10

Pause for thought, and poetry

According to our local press, boatyards on the Norfolk Broads are struggling to find skilled staff, and they’re crying out for talented woodworkers. If Jesus Christ is ever planning to return, now might be a good time to do it.

I had a fun afternoon with Ted, talking about corruption in cricket and watching the rain beat down on the conservatory roof. He was telling me that he’s barely drunk alcohol in over a year, and that he feels so much better since behaving healthier. It inspired me to write him a limerick:

There was an old soldier called Ted
Who liked to drink whiskey in bed
Then his heart nearly stopped
So his drinking he stopped
Coz he’d rather be sober than dead

RC 29-8-10

I hate to admit I was wrong, but..

I had a good chat with Nathan today. A really good chat. We talked for over an hour and religion wasn’t mentioned once. It seems I may have done him a mis-service, and he’s not the God-obsessed blind sheep I thought he was. I remember something Hannah said to me when they first got back together. “His faith is only one part of him, it’s not his entire personality.” At the time I just took it as a throw-away comment, and promptly threw it away, but maybe she was right. I must make an effort to get to know him better, especially as it looks likely he’ll end up as my brother-in-law.

RC 27-8-10

Haiku about the recent weather

August has been shit
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit
Shitty shit-shit shit

RC 26-8-10

Palindromes, Day 2

Oh God, there’s more..

“Norfolk man Ned Parry discovers insects making a hide-out”:
NED P SAW WASP DEN

The Palindromic Northern football chant:
TWO-NOWT, TWO-NOWT, TWO-NOWT, TWO-NOWT
(repeat ad infinitum)

Headline when police discover why a lorry load of car accessories fell into the road:
PARTS ON - NO STRAP

Something to shout at an appropriately-named male friend when he’s looking miserable:
YO, JON! NO JOY?

And you can make up your own stories or circumstances to go with these ones:
HOI! DES! SARAH HARASSED I… OH!
RATS NOTE NOW IF FI WON ETON STAR
PAL REVO’S D.N.A LANDS OVER LAP

I really have to stop this now..

RC 25-8-10

"Nurses run"

I’ve been having fun with palindromes again. People may have ‘invented’ these ones already, but not as far as I’m aware. Just for more fun, I’ve imagined them as headlines and come up with the storylines they might be appropriate to:

Story that lots of hospital sisters want to work with flu patients:
‘NOSES RUN’ WARDS DRAW NURSES ON

Article about a British serviceman who saw action in the Vietnam War:
WAS ‘NAM FAR? R.A.F MAN SAW

Story that a singing GP has recorded a song about African animals catching fish and leaving them on the riverbank to decay:
“GNUS ROT COD” DOCTOR SUNG

When a heat wave silences owls:
TOO HOT TO HOOT

Story about ‘Only Fools and Horses’ actor David Jason touring the country preaching the gospel using an unusual mode of transport:
DEL’S GOD DOGSLED

I need help..

RC 24-8-10

Look what I did today..

As it keeps raining, I’ve been spending lots of time playing word games on a notepad. It passes the time, and helps keep the grey matter active, but it doesn’t always lead anywhere. I’m pleased with today’s result though..

A Palindrome About Wilfred Owen:

DRAB WAR TIMES EMIT RAW BARD

© R.Chesworth 2010

High Cue

We actually had some nice weather today, albeit a bit windy, so I took advantage and got the old bicyclette out. I packed a backpack with drink and snacks and a notepad and took myself off into the countryside. After a couple of delightful miles, followed by several painful ones, I stopped by a lovely church in a village I’ve never been to before. I sat in the churchyard with my shirt off, enjoying my sandwiches and writing some new haiku.
Shall I share them with you now?

Norfolk this Summer
Has been wet, windy and dull
Where’s global warming??

When I was eighteen
I thought one night stands were wrong
Now I seek them out

I’m an Englishman
So I am shy about sex
But really want it

Churchyards are pretty
Shame they are run by Christians
Or I’d visit more

Football is a sport
that seems to be on telly
Bloody constantly

Tabloid newspapers
can’t be used as toilet rolls
They’re too full of shit

Jamie Oliver
is an annoying puss-stain
who earns too much cash

I call this one ‘Haiku Headstone’:
Here lies Mark Forncett
Killed by his lover’s husband
Who cut off his cock

I then set myself a challenge - to write a 3-Word Haiku. That is, a poem made up of just three words, the first and last made up of 5 syllables, the middle one made up of 7. It would be, I thought, my Ultimate Example Of Haiku.
Two hours later, this is the best I’d come up with:

Ostentatiousness
overexuberantly
antagonises

RC 21-8-10

Beryl's birthday

It was, as the blog title above might suggest, Beryl’s birthday today. I wanted to get her something nice, to say thank you for all the nice snacks she makes when I’m round with Ted, and for all the times she has me and Hannah over and showers us with hospitality. A couple of weeks ago I was talking to her in the kitchen and trying to subtly find out what her interests are so I could get something appropriate. At one point, hugging a large glass of wine she said ‘I have to say I’m a big fan of nettles.’
It struck me as odd, but was just the information I was looking for. So for her birthday I got her a couple of rare nettle plants online, a box of nettle tea and a herbal cookbook that has a nice chapter about nettle salads and stir frys.
It turns out she meant JOHN Nettles, the actor.
So after much embarrassment (on my part) and much hilarity (on everyone else’s) I have promised to get her ‘Midsomer Murders’ on DVD.
Happy Birthday Beryl.

RC 20-8-10

Back to reality... with a bump

I was almost looking forward to work today. It’s been so wet and horrible that I thought I might as well be at work earning money, as you can’t do anything else in this weather. And yes, I admit it, I was excited about seeing Philippa. When I got there, she was in tears. She wouldn’t talk to anybody, she kept running off to the toilet, she took several calls on her mobile, and then she burst into tears again.
Bloody women.
I had turned up thinking she’d be radiant and smiling and pleased to see me, but she wasn’t. Why can’t people just be how I want them to be and make life easier for me?
Anyhow, it turns out someone made a big complaint about something going wrong, and it had happened while Tom was off and she was in charge so she thought she was going to get shouted at and fired, but in the end he was fine about it, and he sorted it out and it was ok. By 3pm she was smiling again and being nice to me. She brought me a cup of tea and said “Sorry about this morning. I was tired and emotional and over-reacting. It’s probably because I’m a bit pre-menstrual.”
Without hesitating for sensible things like thought and consideration I sarcastically said “Shit, thanks for telling me, I’d never have guessed.”
And lo, the world of the office was once again plunged into icy silence…..
Bloody women..

RC 18-8-10

Stories from the Beach Pt 3 - 'Man on a Mission'

I went for a walk on the beach this morning. It hasn’t exactly been beach weather, but I was sick of being trapped indoors by the rain, and I was missing Philippa and feeling confused about her so I buggered off on the bus and went for a walk on the sand.
At the bottom of the ramp, right near the café, there were a bunch of Christian evangelists trying to nab people on holiday and somehow convert them to Jesus.
One of them, who looked like he had just had his first shave and was there on some kind of apprenticeship, locked eyes with me and fell into step alongside me.
“Isn’t this beautiful?” he said.
I grunted a reply of some kind.
He said “God has done great work here, hasn’t he?”
I grunted an “eh?”
He said “If I may quote Psalms, 147:8 - ‘He covers the sky with clouds, he supplies the earth with rain, and maketh the grass grow on the hills.’”
I wanted to punch him, but instead I found myself saying “I prefer the words of Mr Noel Gallagher - ‘I don’t believe in Magic, life is automatic’”
Personally I would have considered the argument closed at that point, but he kept following me and trying to talk to me so in the end I stopped and said “Look mate, I know you think you’re doing a good thing, but don’t waste your time. God is bullshit, and only an idiot would think otherwise, so please bugger off sharpish and leave me alone before you really annoy me and I get violent.”
He smiled one of those sanctimonious smiles that only the self-righteous can muster, put his hand on my arm and said “Don’t you forget what it says in the book of Leviticus: Love thy neighbour as thyself”
So I said “Don’t you forget what Clint Eastwood says in Dirty Harry - ‘GO F*** YOURSELF’” and I knocked his hand off my arm and pushed him out of the way.
It wasn’t an exact quote from the film, but it had the desired affect.
Hell, here I come.

No work today - yeah, baby, yeah!!

Man, it feels good to be at home.
I woke up today with that Monday morning dread that we all know - the one that we first experience as schoolchildren ,and which stays with most of us throughout our working lives - and then suddenly I remembered that I’m not back in the office til Wednesday, and my heart went “YYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!” I thought of seventeen different ways I could spend my morning, eventually settling on a nice cycle ride and then maybe lunch at a pub. Then I opened the curtains, and it was as if I’d been kidnapped, drugged and dumped in the middle of November.
Bloody Norfolk with it’s bloody ‘Summer’ weather.
So I’m staying in all day watching DVDs of ‘Seinfeld’

Ted and I played a game of dominoes yesterday. That was a stupid decision, but was made more enjoyable by Beryl bringing out a home-made coconut cheesecake as a ‘taste test.’ She’s trying to win a prize at next week’s W.I. fete, so Ted and I had to be the guinea pigs for her new recipe.
We’ve started a new ‘music exchange club’ as well - Ted is playing me some old classics from his youth and I’m trying to introduce him to some more modern sounds. Yesterday he treated me to John Lee Hooker, which he called “real music based on real pain produced by a real musician.” I played him some tracks by Ray Lamontagne, which he called “shit.” I was a bit offended, as personally I think Ray’s voice is one of the most beautiful things I’ve encountered in the last decade (alongside Philippa’s smile, and pictures from the Hubble telescope)
Still, each to their own.

RC 16-8-10

Rory's revelation - 13th August 2010

Being single and celibate is fine, unless you're working with someone you really fancy..

RC 13-8-10

Not the kind of oral I like..

I had a check-up at the dentist today. I bloody hated it. I don’t like having another man’s fingers in any of my orifices, even if it is just my mouth. It wouldn’t be so bad if I saw the same dentist every time I went for a check-up, but I don’t. Our dental practice gets through staff at the rate Katie Price gets through husbands. Last year I had a Polish dentist with a Scottish assistant, and they could barely understand each other. I went in for a filling and half expected to have my leg amputated. This time around, I was seen by a South African man named Micheel and his recently-out-of-uni assistant, who is from South Korea. He’s got long hair and a strong accent while she’s about four feet five inches tall with dark glasses. It was like being treated by John Lennon and Yoko Ono.
Apparently I have to floss more, or risk gum disease.

RC 12-8-10

From the desk of Rory Chesworth..

Working with Tom is just weird. The job has taken on a whole new aspect now I’m dealing with his general level of insanity. No wonder Philippa finds it hard sometimes. He’s understandably buoyant from becoming a dad again, but doesn’t seem to realise that not everyone else is as excited as he is. How many times do I need to see a photo of his new son sleeping? Every day, apparently. Twice a day, if his wife decides to send him a photo to his iPhone.
He’s spending so much time wandering around sharing his delight with his workforce that he’s never actually around to do any work. He might as well not be here.
I think this is the last week I’ll be working six days. I’ll miss the money but at least I won’t be in the office all the time.

RC 9-8-10

Let me update you..

I really like August so far.

The weather hasn’t been very Summery, which is good as the heat tends to bring me out in a rash, and tends to bring out hordes of tourists. This way it’s cool enough to bike about and see places without sweating yourself to death and without having 900 day-trippers in your way armed with cameras.

Philippa and I have been quite coy with each other, but she has suggested we go out again soon. I said yes, as long as it’s fun and doesn’t involve sitting in a stiff shirt eating pretentious food. I think we’re going ten-pin bowling next weekend.

It looks like I won’t be attending my local doctors surgery anymore. The loathsome locum Dr Sinclair is staying on longer and as I haven’t seen fit to apologise to him, I may have to find another GP.

Ted and I are trying our hands at boules later. He picked up a set at an auction for a couple of quid and I’ve managed to print off the rules from the internet. Beryl has promised to prepare French-style snacks to help get us in the mood. I’m not entirely sure what ‘French-style snacks’ will contain. Lots of brie and garlic, I assume.

As promised, I’ve been doing a bit of research into my ancestors. So far I’ve found out that my great-great-uncle was sentenced to hard labour, that my maternal great-grandfather is not the man in the photo I have in an album, and that I may or may not be related by marriage to Nazi war criminal Martin Bormann. I’ve decided not to dig any deeper.

RC 8-8-10

Good save, Rory..

What a few days it has been. From the depths of despair on Saturday, it’s all been uphill and I find myself walking on air like Aled Jones after his drink has been spiked by the Snowman.
I did send Philippa an e-mail on Saturday, but not the one I originally planned. It simply said this: “Sorry about last night. I didn’t feel great. Can we try again soon? Like, very soon? Please?”
That night I got a reply from her. The best one I’ve ever received. It said “How about tomorrow?”
No posh food and uncomfortable silences this time. We went to the pictures to see ‘Inception’ and then had fish and chips and an ice-cream and a walk on the beach. We talked and we talked and we talked. We talked about our favourite cheeses, the worst Christmas present we’ve ever received, and all that other rubbish you talk about when you’re relaxed and enjoying someone’s company.
The weather was fine and the evening was warm, and time seemed to stand still as we slowly walked and chatted and got to know more about each other. It was the best night I’ve had for a long, long time.
On Monday morning, knowing I would see her again, I was actually excited about going to work.
Every time I’ve looked at her in the last couple of days, she’s been smiling at me, and she has a beautiful, beautiful smile.

RC 4-8-10