Still witty, despite danger

I nearly choked to death on a piece of fresh coconut yesterday. As I was gasping for breath all I could think was “they really should call these things ‘choker-nuts’”

RC 31-7-12

And the Award for Most Popular Person In Norfolk goes to..

Philippa isn’t happy with me at the moment. She dislikes my lack of sympathy about her ankle, she dislikes the fact that I’m not obsessed with cleaning the house every day the way she is, and she dislikes the fact that I saw a picture of Victoria Pendleton in the paper today and said “Jesus - she can ride my bike any time she wants to.”
Basically, she doesn’t like me, or anything I do.
Today, for the first time in months, I am remembering why I used to like having girlfriends that only existed in cyberspace. Online relationships don’t have much sex involved but at least someone you only ever contact by e-mail can’t give you the silent treatment for days on end. Well, they can but you don’t really notice the difference.

I’ve also upset Nathan. I popped round to check up on my cat Gerald (and, let’s be honest, to avoid Philippa) and we got chatting in the kitchen over a coffee.  Nathan is planning to train for the priesthood, he tells me, but is wondering whether to put it on hold while he supports Hannah in her quest to be an actress. I managed to stop myself laughing, but only just. Unimpressed, Nathan said “Don’t you believe that someone can go from a small drama course in Norfolk to the biggest stage in the West End?”
I said “Maybe. After all, I’ve seen someone go from being a promiscuous, angry young girl to being a celibate, pious young woman.” Nathan (even more unimpressed) said “Are you talking about anyone in particular?”
I said “No. Just someone I read about in the paper”
Then we sat in silence, then he quoted the Bible at me, then we sat in silence again. Then I came home and got the third degree from Philippa about where I’d been and why I was late, and then we sat in silence eating supper, and then we sat in silence on the sofa.

I have to say the best part of my day was the silences.

RC 27-7-12

Olympics-A-Go-Go

THINGS I’M LOOKING FORWARD TO AT THE OLYMPICS…

Seeing shots of competitors stuck in traffic when they should be running round the track..
Seeing the disappointment on a spectators face when he realises his beach volleyball tickets are for the MENS competition…
Seeing Usain Bolt and his Jamaican colleagues trying to sprint through puddles that are knee-deep…
Seeing the IOC members smiling through gritted teeth while they sit beneath grey skies and think “Why the Hell didn’t we award these games to a country that has a Summer?”…
Seeing Victoria Pendleton doing… well, anything really, to be honest…

RC 26-7-12

I blame the heat....

You know that feeling when you’re stuck in a deep hole of your own making, and you know that the thing to do is stop and stand quietly for a while, but you find yourself digging deeper and deeper instead?
Well today I told Philippa that men and women shouldn’t live together as they’re two different species and it would never, ever work out well. I said that living together is just something that society expects us to do after a certain time in our courtship and if we don’t do it then we feel there must be something wrong with us.
Co-habitation, I said,  was just a shortcut to hatred and resentments.

I don’t know, dear reader, what reason you have for visiting this blog, but I sure as hell hope you're not looking for advice about relationships.

RC 23-7-12

One of the worst days of my life..

I foolishly told Philippa about my ‘Encounter on the Beach’ yesterday and I haven’t stopped hearing about it since. She woke me up this morning with “How’s my little Rent Boy?” so I just said “Piss off, limpy” and that shut her up. Not for very long though…
She has a vicious sense of humour, and I’ve been the brunt of it for 12 hours. Now I am going to bed. Yesterday’s event was traumatic enough, without having to deal with the mental and emotional pain metered out by someone who should be comforting and consoling me.
I have a horrible feeling that lots of other people may be finding out about it soon as well. Her capacity for piss-taking is exceeded only by her capacity for gossiping and online chit-chat. She’ll have it all over social media by the time I finish this sentence.
Bloody women.

RC 21-7-12

Unexpected offer

I went for a walk on the beach today, for the first time in ages. It wasn’t sunny enough to sit or nice enough to stay but if I keep waiting for a Summer’s day it’ll be October before I know it and I won’t have left the house.
There was a guy swimming while I was there, and when he came out and got dried, we got chatting. He was in his fifties and he looked pretty fit so I said “you must swim quite often”
“Yeah”, he replied, “I try and hit the sea every day from late April until early October. It’s been bloody hard going this year, I can tell you.”
Then he said “I prefer swimming abroad, really. Then no-one blinks if you’re naked.”
Being a curious, and perhaps naïve, soul, I allowed the conversation to continue in that vein and he told me he’s a naturist. He said more people than I might think are advocates of nudity as a lifestyle choice, and that he’s campaigning to have a large section of the Norfolk coast set aside as a nude-only beach. He’s even started a local organisation called Norfolk Naturists, although as far as I could ascertain he’s currently the only member.
Over the next ten minutes or so he did quite a good job of convincing me that it wasn’t as weird a thing as I might have thought. He used phrases like “not all naturists are perverts” and “it’s only a taboo because society refuses to unrobe itself” and “if you can get over the fear of letting people seeing you naked, just imagine what other fears you can conquer?”
By now he was dressed, and I was hungry, so I said it was nice to chat and wished him well with his campaign.
He said “Keep an eye out online for our petition. And if all goes well, you might even see me naked in the Press soon!”
I chuckled, and so did he, and that’s when the afternoon suddenly turned a bit sinister. Because the next thing he said was “If you can’t wait that long, my chalet is just behind the dunes here” and he tried to hold my hand.
Needless to say, I declined the offer (at least, I hope it’s needless to say..)


By the way - any puns in this blog based on words like ’member’ are totally unintended, I assure you.
I’m off for a shower.

RC 20-7-12

The last 3 months (a haiku retrospective)

Watching the rain fall;
Winter depression in June;
That’s been my Summer

RC 19-7-12

Foot in Mouth (again)

I said something I probably shouldn’t have today.
Someone asked me ‘what’s the main difference between just being in a relationship, and actually living with the person you love?’
I said “When you’re in a relationship, you always see the best of each other, because when you meet up you’re excited to see each other and you want to make an effort. When you live together, it’s the opposite. You’re mostly just miserable and getting on each others tits, with the occasional good day now and then to remind you why you fell in love in the first place.”
Trouble is, the person I was talking to was Philippa.
Even though I insisted it was a joke, it’s led to the atmosphere in the house being frosty. Frostier than a polar bear’s frostbite, to be exact.
No doubt I’ll have to endure two days of silence and then two days of tears before buying some flowers to make everything A-O-K again.
Will there ever be a day when I know how to talk around women?
That’s about as likely as a day without rain in Norfolk…..

RC 18-7-12

I think we need another holiday

Philippa went and played badminton last night for the first time in months. The hospital had advised her to rest her ankle, and then slowly get back into light exercise over a period of weeks. So last night she booked a court and played flat out for an hour with her cousin. Today she can’t walk properly. What did she expect to happen?

Bloody women.

We’re both a bit moody at the moment. I’m missing cycling, because it refuses to stop raining in Norfolk. So maybe we’re not so different as I might think - we’re both missing our usual exercise, and it’s making us both irritable and difficult. So maybe I should cut her some slack. Or maybe I should just keep snapping at her and causing an argument and use the anger as fuel to get me through another day at work.

10 days until the start of the Olympics. Ted’s son Alan (the gambler) has invented another prediction game and invited me to join in. Everyone pays £10 to enter and then it works like this: You pick one competitor in every event, and if they win Gold you get 3 points, if they win Silver you get 2 points, and if they win Bronze you get 1 point. He keeps a track of the total points accrued over the whole of the Games and the overall ‘Predictor Champion’ gets all the money. After my efforts during Euro2012 I’ve told him I’m going to decline his offer and just flush a tenner straight down the toilet. The end result is the same, but it cuts out the middle man and spares me a load of embarrassment. 

RC 17-7-12

Hannah and My Hero

Hannah’s band have been asked to play at a Christian Rock festival in Leicestershire in August. It’s called “CROSSFEST” and is organised by a local farmer and evangelist who used to be a hell-raising rock drummer. Sounds like he and I have so much in common!
I’ve looked him up on online and he’s quite a character. 
After two decades on the road, two failed marriages, two breakdowns, six illegitimate children and a heart attack, he saw the error of his ways in 1997 and has dedicated his life to Jesus ever since. His autobiography is called “The Lewd, and The Lord” 
Bloody brilliant.

RC 16-7-12

So much rage, in one so young..

Last night’s blog shouldn’t have been called ‘Insight.’ It should have been called ‘lager-fuelled ramblings from a lonely left-at-home fiancee’ Never mind, onward and upward, no damage done, etc, take a quick aspirin and hope Philippa doesn’t check my blog this week…

Hannah’s gig went well apparently. I didn’t go because I had a headache, and it was at a massive church on the other side of town, and I couldn’t be arsed. Some things in life just shouldn’t be mixed, and ‘Rory’ and ‘Christianity’ are two of them. So are ‘Katie Price’ and ‘oxygen’ 
Come to think of it, so are ‘Jamie Oliver’ and ‘television’. He was in the papers moaning again about school dinners this week. So just let me guess - ‘coming soon, Jamie Does School Dinners AGAIN’ because we didn’t quite get it right last time, or didn’t make quite enough money. It’s coming soon to a TV screen near you, and a bookshelf, and a bloody pod cast and probably a bloody range of menswear as well just so he can milk this cow dry of cash completely.
Fatface Gimboid Bastard.

RC 15-7-12

Insight

Philippa is out ‘with the girls’ tonight for a birthday meal. You can tell this, because after she left I had to open every window and put on a fan for an hour to get rid of the cloud of hairspray. She went out looking more tarted up than a 16-year-old virgin desperate to get laid in a nightclub, even though she’s only out with 11 other women, and they’re going to an expensive restaurant. The only nearby men will be the barman and the chef.
It just proves to me once again that my theory is correct - women don’t wear make-up for men, they wear it for other women. They don’t wear it to look more beautiful and attract men folk, they wear it to avoid the criticism and torment they would encounter from The Sisterhood if they dared to step outside looking natural. Men don’t give a shit what you’ve got on your face as long as they end up in bed with you, but go on the town without your slap on and your girlfriends will tear you to pieces. 
There. Learn from me, and be thankful.

RC 14-7-12

Will Wonders Never, etc..

Hannah’s group have their first gig this weekend. It’s on Sunday afternoon, because - are you ready for this? - it turns out THEY’RE A CHRISTIAN ROCK GROUP!!
She let me look at their set list, and these are some of their song titles:

“God Still Loves You (Even If Your Sister Don’t)”
“Jesus is my aftershave, and he smells of salvation”
“God made a rainbow, so my eyes could see his love”
“When I get to Heaven I’ll be happy indeed”
“God is my milkman, and I love to taste his cream”

Alright I might have made up the last one, but the rest are true, I swear..

RC 13-7-12

Some lists...

The 5 Best Things About Living With Your Girlfriend:


Waking up with her beside you.
Being there to cheer her up when she’s had a rough day at work.
Having her there to cheer you up when you’ve had a rough day at work.
Cuddling up with the knowledge that one of won’t have to go home soon.
Seeing her every day.

The 5 Worst Things About Living With Your Girlfriend:

Putting up with her manic house cleaning ritual every other day.
The slime in the bath as a result of her using 27 different products while having a shower.
Not being able to escape when she’s having ‘one of those lady days’
Having to wait two hours while she gets ready to go out.
Seeing her every day.

And following on from yesterday’s blog, here’s FIVE THINGS THAT LOOK THE SAME LEAVING YOUR BODY FROM YOUR ANUS AS THEY DID ON THE WAY IN THROUGH YOUR MOUTH:

Sweetcorn
Peanut Butter
Apple pips
Angel Delight
Guinness

RC 12-7-12

A Question for God (if he's reading this)

Why does eating peanut butter make my shit come out like a melted Snickers?

RC 11-7-12

Offended / Offending

I had to deal with a complaint about our pharmacy staff today. That department is nothing to do with me, but I’m on the ‘complaints roster’ and happened to be the only manager on the shop floor when the unhappy person came in.  It was hilarious, really. So hilarious that I couldn’t stop smiling while I took down the details, which prompted her to add a little complaint about me as a postscript.
I’ve heard both sides of the story this afternoon, and this is what appears to have happened (any factual errors are my own): Apparently, last week, she called in and asked for hay fever advice on behalf of her 15-year-old daughter. Our staff showed her the range of antihistamines we have, but advised her that as her daughter is still ‘a child’ she should probably see her GP first before buying anything.  The lady said something like “We can’t wait three weeks for a doctors appointment, is there anything we can try in the meantime?” One of our pharmacy girls called Ruth (a tasty little number who suffers from hay fever herself) told her that some people smear Vaseline inside their nostrils before they go out, which catches the pollen when you breathe in and stops it reaching the nasal membranes. So the lady went away and tried it on her daughter… and it turned out she was allergic to Vaseline! She ended up in A+E with a swollen face and blistered nose and finding it hard to breathe.
The lady - who thinking about it now bore a remarkable resemblance to Herman Munster - seems to think this was all deliberate and that we should be made to pay.
She called the store a ‘hotbed of Capitalist vipers’ and called me ‘a childish insufferable turd’ and then stormed off threatening legal action. We have a disclaimer up about our staff being unqualified and not fully trained specialists, so I don’t think it’ll go very far. No-one died, after all, and I really think people need to take some responsibility for themselves and accept that accidents sometimes happen and stop trying to find someone to blame all the time and stop trying to sue someone for money every time the world isn’t exactly how they want it. Don’t you?
There - I feel better now. 


RC 9-7-12

Wrong side of bed?

The Olympic torch passed our way yesterday. I was about as interested in that as I am in Philippa’s ongoing ankle problems, but at least the store was quiet while people went off to watch the relay. The Games are going to be a nightmare. Our bosses are determined to take advantage and make ten billion pounds in a month so we’ll have yet more Union Jack tat and Olympics-themed souvenir shit clogging up the aisles. I might book the whole fortnight off and go and live in a cave somewhere.

Looks like being another month of rain here in Norfolk.
To cheer myself up, I’ve decided to invent my own chocolate bar.
I want it to have a biscuit base and then a top layer of peanuts, caramel, coconut and raisins. I might call it a PHILIPPA.
I actually get aroused just thinking about the taste.  (of the chocolate bar, that is, not Philippa. Although now you mention it……)

I’m going to stop typing now because I’m feeling negative and moody, so I‘m going to sit in the garden with a bottle of wine and throw crab apples at the plastic flamingoes.

RC 5-7-12

Can't we just live for today?

The year has half gone.
At work, we’re already having meetings about Christmas.
I sit there in the office with a pen in my hand listening to management droning on and I try to think of elaborate, painless ways to kill myself.
My favourite so far is to take an extraordinary amount of tranquilisers and then drown in a silo full of melted Snickers bars. Possibly while dressed as Spider-Man.
Any other suggestions welcome..

RC 2-7-12