Wet

If you like swimming or keep fit, there’s a nice little leisure centre in North Norfolk called ‘Splash.’ (Although, it turns out, you’re not allowed to dive, jump or ‘bomb’ in the pool, so I’m not entirely sure where the ‘splash’ is supposed to come from.) The thing I’d like to mention though, is the toilet. If you’re just there as a spectator, rather than a participant, you have to use the Disabled toilet in the Reception area. For some reason, there is one loo, one sink and one hand-dryer in a room the size of an aircraft hangar, which leads to some interesting acoustics and echoes. I kid you not. It’s like going for a pee in a concert hall.

RC 31-3-11

I need space

Something is going wrong with the layout of my blog. I like to leave a space between the title and the body of the text - because I think it looks neater - and over the last couple of days it’s stopped me doing it, and I don’t know why. I’m not technically gifted, as you know, so I don’t know how to change it. I only mention it because I’m anal about these things, and I want you to know it’s not my fault. It bothers me that the postings are looking slightly different and if I was a regular visitor to this blog (like you) it would probably be bothering me even more, and I would probably be blaming the person who writes it, and I would be wondering why they had changed it, so I am writing to let you know that I haven’t changed it (not deliberately anyway), and I’m trying to change it back. Those of you with OCD issues will understand what I’m talking about; those of you with a clean bill of mental health are probably thinking “What IS he going on about?” Anyway, I hope to fix it soon.

RC 29-3-11

Period drama

Pregnancy worries are over. I’m relieved, and yet strangely disappointed too, in a frightening way. Philippa was in tears last week because she thought she might be pregnant; today she was in tears when she found out she isn’t. Bloody women. (no pun intended) I told her that the thought of having a child with her did not scare me in the slightest, and that we’d make great parents when the time was right, and that I was actually looking forward to that time coming. It cheered her up immensely and she hugged me like you would hug a tree if you thought you were about to fall out of it. It’s rare for me to say the right thing at the right time, and I’m going to go to bed happy.

RC 28-3-11

18 holes; many more laughs

I spent two hours on a damp pitch-and-putt course with Ted and his eldest son Alan today. What a laugh. I was worried they might be very serious competitors and very skilled players, and that I’d feel self-conscious and amateurish in their presence, but not a bit of it. We had a scream. When we weren’t laughing at each other’s ineptitude we were telling bad jokes or hearing stories from Ted’s past. Alan kept sipping from a hip flask and got more and more giggly as the day wore on. Ted got more and more frustrated at his own mistakes and by the time we got to the last three holes he was like a dormant volcano about to explode. He seemed to be less interested in getting his ball in the hole, and more interested in digging holes on the greens with his putter. If he put the same effort into his shots as he did into venting his fury on the flags he’d have got round in 5 underpar. (see how quickly I’ve slipped into golf speak there?) In the end, when we checked our cards (there I go again) I’d taken 111 shots over 18 holes. Ted, with a bit of creative scoring, came in at 98, while Alan finished the first 9 holes in 31, but the last 9 holes in 53 (I think the rum may have starting kicking in) He still won though, and bought us all lunch as a forfeit. Fun, fun day.

RC 27-3-11

answers on a postcard - 26.3.11

Why do manufacturers of showers fit them with 10 temperature settings, when people only ever use 2?
If Alan Sugar’s head was turned upside down, would he look any different?
And how do teetotal vegans celebrate?

RC 26-3-11

Summer?

I’m really confused. The temperature is warm enough to sit outside with a T-shirt on, but all the hedges are bare and the grass is barely growing. It feels like Summer, but it looks like March.
Ted was out working in the garden today. I tightened the brakes on my bike and oiled my chain and then sat with him chatting about golf. It looks highly likely that we’re going to a pitch-and-putt course on Sunday.
Philippa has just turned the shower off, so see you…

RC 25-3-11

Full of the joys of..

Spring has officially sprung!
Actually, it started two days ago, but I was too distracted in my thinking to mention it. Spring, oh Spring, my favourite thing, my favourite season, for many a reason… I LOVE Spring. Buds start a-blooming, birds start a-tweeting, and all sorts of animals get up to all sorts of shenanigans as a way of guaranteeing giving birth before the weather turns again. Mother Nature is a powerful beast. No wonder me and Philippa have ended up in trouble…

RC 24-3-11

A pregnant pause?

Scary times.
Philippa and I have not been doing certain things that you have to think about in a relationship, and as a result certain things that should happen to a lady on a monthly basis have not happened as expected. If you see what I mean.
I asked Philippa if ‘being late’ was something that happened often in her cycle and she said “No, usually I’m as regular as clockwork.” For some reason I said “Well, not really. If you were as regular as clockwork you’d have your period every 24 hours, not every 28 days.” It wasn’t particularly funny, but I was feeling uncomfortable and so fell back on my old habit of trying to make jokes when the situation is stressful. It went down like a balloon that’s not only made of lead but is reinforced with concrete and is tied to, and being pulled down by, another lead balloon.
I may not be making much sense, but that’s because I’m somewhat distracted. I want to be a dad, but not within the next 12 months, thank you. As Philippa pointed out - “you have no job and the emotional security of a three-month old wasp, so you’re not ideal dad material at the moment.” Why do I love her exactly?
I’m going to deal with this situation the way any man would. I’m going to run off to my cave and hide and wait until it all blows over. Wii boxing, here I come….

RC 22-3-11

Two hours lost forever

It’s Monday morning, and I’m still reeling and recovering from something I did on Saturday. I decided to watch the M.Night Shyamalan film “The Happening”
What… a pile…. of shite…

RC 21-3-11

Strange encounters

Philippa worked overtime today so I went cycling in the sunshine. I popped into a pub I used to frequent while at college, and was stunned to see the same barman that used to serve me ten years ago. I think he was still wearing the same shirt. He certainly had the same crass, unprofessional manner and told the same unfunny jokes. At one point, a guy came in sporting the most bizarre appearance I’ve seen for years. His hair was partly shaved on top, had been clippered to about three different lengths round the sides, and he had a beard that nearly reached his nipples. It looked like one of the Hairy Bikers had been attacked by Sweeney Todd. As he approached the bar, the rapier-witted barman said “Alright Mick? Put your head on upside down this morning?” To which Mick replied with the funniest and wisest thing I‘ve heard all year - “never get a haircut from your blind Lithuanian neighbour til he’s learnt to speak a little English.”
I snorted in my St Clements and returned to my waiting velociped.

RC 19-3-11

A little Wednesday poetry

March marches on.
It’s almost halfway gone.
How come Feb, which has three days less,
Crawls along like a centipede with broken legs,
While the Spring months flash past in a hummingbird’s heartbeat?

RC 16-3-11

Shorter and simpler

I’ve noticed I’m putting ridiculously long titles on my postings this week. Maybe it’s a reaction to the February Challenge - having limited myself to one word titles for a month I’m now letting my title-choosing imagination run to it’s full potential. Or maybe the week in Austria helped me find the poetic wordsmith within me. Who knows?
Anyway…
Philippa and I spoke about living together today. It wasn’t a full-on serious chat about it, but the idea was tentatively floated and neither of us ran away scared, so who knows? That’s the second time I’ve used the phrase ‘who knows?’ in this blog. I swear not to use it again.

You may have guessed that I’m lacking inspiration today, and I really can’t think of anything to write about. Maybe I should just go to bed and then maybe I’ll wake up full of ideas tomorrow, who knows?
Ah, shit, there I go again…

RC 15-3-11

The end is nigh... or maybe it isn't... or maybe it is again

When I turned on the TV news this morning, the headline said “BREAKING NEWS - Another explosion at Japanese power plant - fear of reactor meltdown” It was like waking up in the middle of a 50s sci-fi B-movie trailer. I felt like checking my legs to see if I’d started mutating or not.
I spent the rest of the day in one of my depressive moods, thinking ‘God, it’s all over. I’m the happiest I’ve been this century, I’ve found true love, and we’re about to be wiped out by a radioactive cloud from the Land of the Rising Sun. Thank you, Sons of Nippon.’ Anticipating the end, I got out my ultra-reliable explorer’s compass (that came out of a cracker in Xmas 2004), made sure I was facing the Far East, and waited to see Armageddon. I sat there for hours, and apart from some rain clouds and a suspicious looking pigeon, there was nothing.
At 5 o’clock, I came back indoors, turned the TV back on and the headline WAS EXACTLY THE SAME. They were even replaying the ‘expert analysis’ by some boffin undergrad from Cambridge that I’d woken up to TEN HOURS EARLIER. If this reactor is in the throes of meltdown it must be melting at the speed of a frigging candle.
God I hate 24-hour news channels.

RC 14-3-11

Doesn't brown bile taste awful?

I’ve been as sick as a pig today. Philippa came over for a meal last night and we played Scrabble and Ludo until late, and I didn’t realise how much wine I was having. I passed out on the sofa, then threw up on the carpet, then fell asleep in the bath. Not one of my finest evenings. Most of today was spent praying for death, sipping cold water or trying to clean the carpet without vomiting again.
I had to cancel Sunday lunch with Ted and Beryl, and spend lots of time apologising to Philippa and promising to ‘make it up to her soon’ like some awful abusive husband. Mmm there’s a thought - me as Philippa’s husband…. No, stop it, I’m too weak and tired to be thinking like that. I’m going to eat some dry toast and then crawl into the bed that I couldn’t find last night in my stupor.

RC 13-3-11

New month; new season; new creative outlet

I had another gentle cycle today. Spent some time in a small churchyard with a notepad and invented something I’m calling ‘Alphabet Poetry:’ It’s like Initialoetry, but you have to start each word using each letter of the alphabet, in order (alphabetical order, surprisingly enough) So it’s always 26 words long, and you can structure them anyway you like.
An example:

A boy called David eats furry grapefruit.
Ha!
I just know life means nothing outside pandemonium.
Queens run Scottish tourism
until Vera’s wonky xylophone yells ‘Zulu!’

Try it. I’m sure you’ll do better than me.

RC 9-3-11

A new day brings a different outlook..

Another lovely day today. I sat outside with a book and felt wonderful. Amazing how the first signs of Spring fill you with hope, and ideas. It’s a great time of year, and a great time of year to be in love. Speaking of which, I decided to cut Philippa some slack about yesterday. At 4 o’clock this morning I had a moment of enlightenment and realised how horrible it must be for her to be back at work after our fun week away. (I often have my clearest thoughts while having a piss in the middle of the night.) So I sent her an e-card to say sorry, with a picture of a dozen roses on the front. Just as good as a real bouquet, but only cost me £2,99 (there was an offer in the Sunday paper)

RC 8-3-11

The world's a different place when it's bathed in sunlight..

What a gorgeous day today! It almost felt like Spring. I dug the patented Rory Velociped out and had my first bike ride of 2011. Only a few miles, but it was glorious. What a day. You can tell I haven’t cycled for months, as my thighs were burning like hell within minutes and my nuts feel like they’ve been kicked by a donkey. Worth it, though. I called Philippa with tales of my ride in the sun and she reacted unexpectedly, and quite badly. I thought she’d be happy for me, but she made some comment about me wasting time that could have been spent looking for a job. Probably just a bit of jealousy, but hurtful when it comes from someone you really love deeply. Still, sod her - her mood isn’t going to stop me feeling cheerful!

RC 7-3-11

From the journal of our Austrian correspondent...

Here are a few brief holiday highlights:

SATURDAY: Drank in airport. Drank on plane. Drunk on landing.
SUNDAY: Ate so much fruit salad I feel dizzy
MONDAY: Had a beautiful walk through the town. Austria is a bit hillier than Norfolk.
TUESDAY: Took a ride up the Kitzbulerhorn and shat my self silly in the cable car
WEDS: Stayed in bedroom all day! ‘Nuff said.
THURSDAY: Another long walk up another big hill. Glad I lost all that weight last year.
FRIDAY: Mad karaoke night in hotel. Drunk Germans singing Monkees songs..
SATURDAY: Flew home sober. Bad idea.. Glad flights over; sad holiday’s over.

RC 4-3-11

Holiday Haiku

Here are some verses I scribbled down while sitting on our hotel balcony one morning, while Philippa was still asleep:

Austria is nice
especially when you’re with
the person you love

The mountains stand high
their snowy peaks symbolise
the height of my love

I have a feeling
Philippa and I abroad
will happen lots more

Ski-ing is not me
But I have to admit this:
Ski suits are sexy

Sometimes haiku sucks
But for writing poems, it’s..
..the best I can do

Will we get married?
Will we always be a pair?
Seems likely to me

RC 3-3-11