Look... New Links!

I've added a couple more links to the sidebar and thought I'd point them out. The first is a webcomic called Pet Professional, which updates every Wednesday (but so far not today it seems). The comic is about a contract killer with a twist. He only takes out contracts on animals! Despite sounding really grim, it is really funny. The comics have a loose overall story arc running through them, though most of the strips can be enjoyed as stand-alones. Still, I recommend going into the archive and reading from the beginning (which won't take you that long, it is a fairly new comic) to fully appreciate it.

The second new link is to another blog, named The Movie Review Diary. The guy who writes this got the idea to simply watch DVD's and review them. And he is really good at it. His writing is solid, his opinions well thought out, and I find myself agreeing with most of what he has to say, about the films he reviews. And there are a lot of reviews to read, if you are so inclined as to read through his archives.

The Blur That Was Wednesday

So today went by pretty fast. This is due in the main part to my sleeping through much of it (I woke up at about 6pm), though in fairness to myself I didn't go to bed until 8am. This was because of sleeping most of yesterday, so that by about 9pm last night I couldn't sleep a wink more. Indeed I'd been awake for about an hour by then, just lying in bed.

I spent a lot of last night talking to various people online, including my mate Dan who was on his third successive night of insomnia (ouch). I also played a lot of Civ III where I fought a second war with the Inca and handily won it, taking back the city I lost in the first Spanish-Incan war, and destroying 3 others, all without losing more than a half dozen units and not a single city of my own. True the Incan civilization is still there, but it is now considerably reduced in size, and at war with like 4 other nations as well, so I don't imagine they'll be around much longer.

Spent most of this evening roleplaying online and listening to music. Tomorrow I have to erase the details off the four battlemats we use for D&D and draw out the map on them (yes on all four of them), for an encounter I've wanted to run since I began my current campaign in August 2004. Not touched any of my miniatures that stand mutely on my painting desk needing work, nor done any more on my model Tarrasque this holiday, nor have I typed up the half dozen or so session logs of my D&D campaign that I have on the To-Do pile. I've just not been feeling very inspired at all.

Headache Attack!!

Woke up yesterday at noon, and within minutes I had a headache. It was mild to begin with, but grew stronger through the day, and as a result I didn't eat anything, as I knew it'd end up being hurled down the loo anyway. I was still sick though, throwing up a pint of water I'd drunk, so I've been careful to only drink small amounts since then.

I spent most of yesterday asleep, which wasn't easy after sleeping for like 10 hours the night before, and finally I couldn't sleep anymore. So I distracted myself for a couple hours by watching X-Men the movie, which helped me (mostly) forget the pain in my head, until of course it finished and the headache came back.

By then I'd had enough, and got dressed, pulled on my sheepskin lined denim jacket (a xmas present from my mate Jon last year, very useful it is too!) and headed out to the supermarket down the hill, which is open 24 hours. I don't think I've ever been shopping at gone midnight before, but it was a weird experience. I don't think there was another customer in the store, I know I didn't see one. Lots of staff filling shelves though. It was bizarre, but at least I didn't have to queue at the tills (heck I had to call someone to open a till so I could buy my goods).

The walk there and home again did me some good, it is late November and the air is brisk, which was nice. I bought some Nurofen Meltlets, which are these clever painkilling tablets that dissolve on the tongue, so no water needed. Also they are lemon flavoured so no bad taste in the mouth afterward. I bought a few other bits for my cupboard and the fridge (I can't ever go into a supermarket and come out with just the item I went in for it seems), as well as a can of Heinz Roast Chicken soup, as I was by then ravenously hungry and figured that if I couldn't keep solids down, I should be able to manage soup at least.

The soup was really good, and I had a couple slices of bread with it, broken up into small pieces and dunked in to give the soup a bit of texture and to test just what I could keep down. Thus far no problems, the tablets seem to be doing the trick in ridding me of this wretched headache, and the food is staying where it should. Here's hoping Wednesday is nicer to me!

Star Trekkin

Okay this is one of the silliest songs that I know of. I can remember that it rocketed straight to the top of the charts when it was released. I know this because I was on holiday in Jersey at the time, and the then Number 1 single was Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now by Jefferson Starship. And I really liked that song (and still do, and yes the lyrics will be turning up in a post here someday). So we (meaning my brother, sister and I) had gone to the TV room in campsite to watch Top of the Pops to see either the band playing, or the video for the song. Only the song had been knocked off top spot by this song, which had entered the charts at number one. The video was incredibly silly, to match the song itself. I'm not that big a Star Trek fan, but this song does nicely summarise the flavour of the Kirk era shows, perfectly capturing the characters of Kirk, Spock, Bones, Uhura and Scotty. A shame they couldn't have fitted in Chekhov and Sulu really to complete the cast, but ohh well.

Star Trekkin' by Dr. Demento

Star Trekkin', across the universe
On the Starship Enterprise, under Captain Kirk.
Star Trekkin', across the universe,
Boldly going forward, 'cause we can't find reverse.

Lt. Uhura, report!

Uhura:
There's Klingons on the starboard bow,
starboard bow,
starboard bow.
There's Klingons on the starboard bow,
starboard bow, Jim.

Analysis, Mr. Spock!

Spock:
It's life, Jim, but not as we know it,
not as we know it,
not as we know it.
It's life, Jim, but not as we know it,
not as we know it, Captain.

Uhura:
There's Klingons on the starboard bow,
starboard bow,
starboard bow.
There's Klingons on the starboard bow,
starboard bow, Jim.

Star Trekkin', across the universe,
On the Starship Enterprise, under Captain Kirk.
Star Trekkin', across the universe,
Boldly going forward, still can't find reverse.

Medical update, Doctor McCoy

McCoy:
It's worse than that, he's dead, Jim.
Dead, Jim.
Dead, Jim.
It's worse than that, he's dead, Jim.
Dead, Jim, Dead.

Spock:
It's life, Jim, but not as we know it,
not as we know it,
not as we know it.
It's life, Jim, but not as we know it,
not as we know it, Captain.

Uhura:
There's Klingons on the starboard bow,
starboard bow,
starboard bow.
There's Klingons on the starboard bow,
starboard bow, Jim!

Starship Captain, James T. Kirk

Kirk:
Ah! We come in peace, shoot to kill,
shoot to kill,
shoot to kill.
We come in peace, shoot to kill,
shoot to kill, men

McCoy:
It's worse than that, he's dead, Jim.
Dead, Jim.
Dead, Jim.
It's worse than that, he's dead, Jim.
Dead, Jim, Dead.

Spock:
Well, it's life, Jim, but not as we know it,
not as we know it,
not as we know it.
It's life, Jim, but not as we know it,
not as we know it, Captain.

Uhura:
There's Klingons on the starboard bow,
starboard bow,
starboard bow.
There's Klingons on the starboard bow,
scrape them off, Jim!

Star Trekkin', across the universe,
On the Starship Enterprise, under Captain Kirk!
Star Trekkin', across the universe,
Boldly going forward, and things are getting worse!

Engine Room, Mister Scott

Scotty:
Ye canna change the laws of physics,
laws of physics,
laws of physics!
Ye canna change the laws of physics,
laws of physics, Jim.

Kirk:
Ah, we come in peace, shoot to kill,
shoot to kill,
shoot to kill!
We come in peace, shoot to kill,
Scotty, beam me up!

McCoy:
It's worse than that, he's dead, Jim!
Dead, Jim!
Dead, Jim!
It's worse than that, he's dead, Jim!
Dead, Jim, Dead!

Spock:
Well, it's life, Jim, but not as we know it,
not as we know it,
not as we know it.
It's life, Jim, but not as we know it,
not as we know it, Captain.

Uhura:
There's Klingons on the starboard bow,
starboard bow,
starboard bow.
There's Klingons on the starboard bow,
starboard bow, Jim!

Scotty: Ye canna change the script, Jim! Up ta you, Jimmy!

McCoy: It's worse than that, it's physics, Jim!

Kirk: Bridge to engine room, warp factor nine!

Scotty: Ach! If I give 'er any more she'll blow, Captain!

BOOM

Woke Up Late

Well I continue to get plenty of rest on my holiday that's for sure, been sleeping for 10+ hours a night every night, so I guess my body must need it. Woke up at the stroke of noon today, not done anything as yet other than roleplay in a chatroom.

Did a bit of shopping yesterday and went back to the Market House to recover my £10 that the barmaid had shortchanged me on Saturday night. Only I didn't get it back, as the till balanced at the end of the night. What a shocker. So I'll have words with that barmaid when I see her next, I do not take kindly to being stolen from.

Walking past Krackers Games Shop, I saw that the shop was shut and that a delivery guy was waiting outside with about 30 large parcels. Thankfully Tony Peach (who owns the shop) was walking about 50' behind me, and unlocked it. I gave him a hand bringing the delivery inside, which didn't contain anything I was interested in, just a load of sci-fi movies figures (Alien, Predator, Star Wars etc), and a few other things. I've got enough of such things already. Hung out there for an hour or so chatting, and then got a few groceries from Iceland and made my way home.

Didn't do much else yesterday other than watch the movie Mousehunt and play a lot of Civ III, in which I'm doing rather well as the Spanish, though just fought a total stalemate of a war with the Inca. So now I'm building up my military and next time I'll wipe the floor with them! I'm also having a lot of fun sinking French and English shipping with my massed fleet of pirate ships. So that was yesterday, dunno what today has in store for me. Guess I'd better find out!

Aaarrgghhhh!!!!

*breathes out slowly* Hmmmm, I do feel a bit better after that. The cause for the scream would be this evening's trip to the pub. I decided on a different look to normal (usually go with jeans and a couple t-shirts, one tucked in, the other worn over the top and loose), so tonight I wore my "My brain is hung like a horse" T-shirt, with my red Ben Sherman shirt over the top of it, as from previous weeks I've noticed that most of the blokes tend to wear shirts, so figured I'd give it a try.

So I headed into town, and drew 20 pounds out of the ATM in the form of a 20 quid note, and made my way into the Market House, where en route to the bar I run into some of my work colleagues of past and present. I belly up to the bar, order a pint of Guiness and hand over my 20... and get back the change from a 10. So I point this out to the barmaid, who of course doesn't believe me, she reckons I'm trying to pull a fast one. She talks to her Bar Manager, and is told to give me paper and pen. This is so I can leave them my name, address, and phone number so that if the till is wrong at the end of the night when they cash up, then they'll contact me and reimburse me.

I'd been in the place less than 10 mins and I was already 50% down on my funds for the night. I barely had time to drink any of my pint of Guiness though, before the lovely Lauren dragged me onto the dancefloor for a few tunes worth of dancing. She used to work in Morrisons, but now has a better job declaring people bankrupt! She and the Morrisons crew soon leave and as songs come on that I like so I dance too them... and quickly find myself in what I can only describe as an infringement of territory.

Seems the trio of blondes that I was happily dancing and chatting with (they loved the T-shirt!), and who were doing likewise in return, were the "prey" of a group of guys (about 5-6 of them) stood to one side of the dancefloor, and they really didn't appreciate me being there. So I soon found myself getting shunted to the side, what space I had to move in would close up. As there was a bouncer watching the floor at all times, they were careful not to actually push me, but they did a pretty efficient job of isolating me away from the girls anytime I set foot on the floor. What really pissed me off though, was that they were fucking terrible dancers, I don't think a single one of them had more than 2 moves to his name. The girls were clearly not interested in them at all, going as far as to roll their eyes and stop dancing themselves, and just drink their drinks whenever these fuckwits did this.

Having had enough of this, I went to get a drink and that took ages. By the time I got back to the dancefloor the guys were gone, but the DJ wasn't playing anything I wanted to dance too (or anyone else for that matter), and the blondes left a few minutes later. Taking a look around then, I realised just how empty the place was. It was not even 11pm, and there were maybe 20 people left in the pub (not including staff). Figuring the night tobe a loss, I headed home and watched the movie Sahara on DVD with Tony.

I should probably be asleep right now, but I sat down to check messages and my ex-girlfriend was online, so stayed awake to talk with her, and figured I'd write this while the events were still fresh in my mind.

A (Mostly) Quiet Saturday

Today has been pretty routine thus far, just taken it easy. Watched Smallville to get caught up on that, until the early hours of this morning, then some sleep for a few hours. Got some laundry done (mostly T-shirts cos I was running low on them), and played Civ III for a few hours this morning, but no significant progress made in any of my saved games as yet.

Had the idea to go and see the new Harry Potter movie, so had to endure a truly terrfying ride down to the cinema on the back of Tony's motorbike (the roads are a bit slippery right now!). Grabbed a ham, cheese and pepperoni baguette thing from the Drive Thru McDonalds, which was really good as I was quite ravenous (had forgotten to eat thus far today... again). Ever since the government started making life harder for the junk fast food chains, they've really put some effort into changing their unhealthy image. To me, this is a very good thing.

The film was visually stunning, if a little jumpy storywise, as huge chunks were left out of the plot. This was to be expected given that the book is 500+ pages long, and fitting all of that into 2.5 hours, simply isn't possible. Still, the film does visit a few plot threads and then not resolve them (most notably Herminone vs Rita Skeeter). A cold bike ride back (must remember gloves for next time), brings me to where I am now, cooking a stir fry and debating whether or not to go out tonight. I know I said last week that I'd give it a miss, but I do enjoy going out, it's the coming back that I hate.

As for the (Mostly) part of the title... well that refers to the noise coming from the room below me as I write this, where Gareth is watching a Rugby match and snarling, bellowing and shouting at the television all the while. I can't make out a lot of the specific words, but the intent is obvious.

All I Wanna Do...

I think I first heard this song on the radio, back when I used to listen to the Top 40 charts on a Sunday night on BBC Radio 1. Ahh youth. Anyway, I liked it immediately, for the story the lyrics tell, of a woman who is in love with a man who cannot give her the child she wants. So she spends a night with a stranger (and possibly more than one such stranger, the song says that she knows the hotel they spend the night at very well), and gets herself pregnant by him. Years later, he encounters her again and meets the child he fathered who has his eyes. Part of what I loathe about modern music is that the lyrics say nothing and mean nothing most of the time (and thats when the songs even have lyrics these days). There should be more songs like this I feel. The kickass rock tune it is sung too is also good!

All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You by Heart

It was a rainy night
When he came into sight,
Standing by the road,
No umbrella, no coat.
So I pulled up alongside
And I offered him a ride.
He accepted with a smile,
So we drove for a while.
I didn’t ask him his name,
This lonely boy in the rain.
Fate, tell me it’s right,
Is this love at first sight?
Please don’t make it wrong,
Just stay for the night.

All I wanna do is make love to you
Say you will
You want me too
All I wanna do is make love to you
I’ve got lovin’ arms to hold on to

So we found this hotel,
It was a place I knew well
We made magic that night.
Oh, he did everything right
He brought the woman out of me,
So many times, easily
And in the morning when he woke
All I left for him was a note
I told him
I am the flower you are the seed
We walked in the garden
We planted a tree
Don’t try to find me,
Please don’t you dare
Just live in my memory,
You’ll always be there

All I wanna do is make love to you
One night of love was all we knew
All I wanna do is make love to you
I’ve got lovin’ arms to hold on to

Oh, oooh, we made love
Love like strangers
All night long
We made love

Then it happened one day,
We came round the same way
You can imagine his surprise
When he saw his own eyes
I said
"Please, please understand
I’m in love with another man
And what he couldn’t give me
Was the one little thing that you can"

All I wanna do is make love to you
One night of love was all we knew
All I wanna do is make love to you
Come on say you will, you want me too

All I wanna do is make love to you
One night of love was all we knew
All I wanna do is make love to you
Say you will baby, you want me too

All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long

All I wanna do
All I wanna do
All I wanna do
All I wanna do
All I wanna do is make love to you
One night of love was all we knew, yeah

Snow!!

As I write this (having just been woken up by a message on MSN) so I am watching the heaviest snowfall that I have seen in years out the window. The ground is already a couple inches deep in the stuff (it is actually settling for once), and plenty more is dropping from the skies. I've read statements from the Met Office that predict this winter is going to be colder than 1963, which is the coldest since modern records began. Outside right now, is the beginning of the proof that they might just be right. This is certainly the first time since since 1986 that I can recall it snowing (and settling) in November.

Quotes From Three Movies

Thought I'd share some of my favourite bits from a trio of good movies with you. I like lots more than just these snippets from the following films though.

Superman the Movie (1978)

Superman: Easy, miss. I've got you.
Lois Lane: You, you've got me? Who's got you?

Perry White: Lois, Clark Kent may seem like just a mild-mannered reporter, but listen, not only does he know how to treat his editor-in-chief with the proper respect, not only does he have a snappy, punchy prose style, but he is, in my forty years in this business, the fastest typist I've ever seen.

Perry White: Now look. The Post: "It Flies." The News: "Look, Ma, No Wires." The Times: "Blue Bomb Buzzes Metropolis." The Planet. We're sitting on top of the story of the century here! I want the name of this flying whatchamacallit to go with the Daily Planet like bacon and eggs, franks and beans, death and taxes, politics and corruption.

Lex Luthor: This is Lex Luthor. Only one thing alive with less than four legs can hear this frequency, Superman, and that's you.

Spaceballs (1987)

Dark Helmet: Careful you idiot! I said across her nose, not up it!
Laser Gunner: Sorry sir! I'm doing my best!
Dark Helmet: Who made that man a gunner?
Major Asshole: I did sir. He's my cousin.
Dark Helmet: Who is he?
Colonel Sandurz: He's an asshole sir.
Dark Helmet: I know that! What's his name?
Colonel Sandurz: That is his name sir. Asshole, Major Asshole!
Dark Helmet: And his cousin?
Colonel Sandurz: He's an asshole too sir. Gunner's mate First Class Philip Asshole!
Dark Helmet: How many assholes do we have on this ship, anyway?
[Entire bridge crew stands up and raises a hand]
Entire Bridge Crew: Yo!
[Dark Helmet looks around in amazement]
Dark Helmet: I knew it. I'm surrounded by assholes!
[Dark Helmet pulls his face shield down]
Dark Helmet: Keep firing, assholes!

The Princess Bride (1987)

Buttercup: You mock my pain.
Westley: Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.

Westley: Give us the gate key.
Yellin: I have no gate key.
Inigo Montoya: Fezzik, tear his arms off.
Yellin: Oh, you mean *this* gate key.

Inigo Montoya: Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.

Westley: There's a shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a pity to damage yours.

Prince Humperdinck: First things first, to the death.
Westley: No. To the pain.
Prince Humperdinck: I don't think I'm quite familiar with that phrase.
Westley: I'll explain and I'll use small words so that you'll be sure to understand, you warthog faced buffoon.
Prince Humperdinck: That may be the first time in my life a man has dared insult me.
Westley: It won't be the last. To the pain means the first thing you will lose will be your feet below the ankles. Then your hands at the wrists. Next your nose.
Prince Humperdinck: And then my tongue I suppose, I killed you too quickly the last time. A mistake I don't mean to duplicate tonight.
Westley: I wasn't finished. The next thing you will lose will be your left eye followed by your right.
Prince Humperdinck: And then my ears, I understand let's get on with it.
Westley: WRONG. Your ears you keep and I'll tell you why. So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, "Dear God! What is that thing," will echo in your perfect ears. That is what to the pain means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever.
Prince Humperdinck: I think your bluffing.
Westley: It's possible, Pig, I might be bluffing. It's conceivable, you miserable, vomitous mass, that I'm only lying here because I lack the strength to stand. But, then again... perhaps I have the strength after all.
[slowly rises and points sword directly at the prince]
Westley: DROP... YOUR... SWORD!
[Prince Humperdinck mouth hanging open, drops sword to floor]

A Few Of My Favourite Things

I thought that I'd re-post here a list of my favourite things from my old information page that I keep online at a website I no longer bother with. Figured I'd update it at the same time also. So here goes:

Colour: Blue (though I definately prefer Black for T-shirts)
Food: Lasagne (Pizza comes a close second, Chilli con Carne is in third place)
Hair colour: Brunette (not that I have anything against redheads or blondes though!)
Movie: Return of the Jedi (First movie I can remember seeing in a cinema. I've watched it dozens of times, never get bored of it)
James Bond Movie: The Living Daylights (There are enough of them to warrant their own category, and this is the best of Timothy Dalton's 2 films as the superspy)
Character from a Movie: Emperor Palpatine from the Star Wars Saga. (The guy is pure evil, he doesn't say his lines, he spits them!)
Quote from a Movie: Lo there do I see my mother. Lo there do I see my sister and my brother. Lo there do I see the line of my people stretching back to the beginning. Lo, they do call to me. They bid me take my place among them. In the Halls of Valhalla, where the dead, live, forever! (The 13th Warrior)
Album: Superman the Movie Soundtrack by John Williams (I own a copy of the deluxe 2 CD version, pure listening heaven!)
Pastime: Writing (Specifically my blog. Followed by roleplaying in Gorean chatrooms. Dungeons & Dragons comes third)
Novel: Dancer of Gor by John Norman
Series of Novels: The Book of Words Trilogy by J.V. Jones (her first books, they THRASH The Lord of the Rings!)
Character from a Novel: Fitzchivalry Farseer from the Farseer Trilogy & Tawny Man Trilogy by Robin Hobb (Brilliant, and often tragic figure, expertly written)
Computer Game: Call to Power 2 (Superior in every way to every other version of Civilisation thus far produced)
Classic TV Show: Babylon 5 (Though Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Firefly and Dawson's Creek all rank very highly)
Current TV Show: Stargate Atlantis (Though I also avidly follow The West Wing, Stargate SG-1, Smallville, Lost and the new Battlestar Galactica).

My Throat Hurts

Well the back of it anyway, up at the top of the neck. I think I have a bout of Tonsilitis. I get one about every year or so, and I am kinda overdue for one. Still, knowing what it is doesn't stop it hurting everytime I swallow, and generally throbbing even when I'm not doing anything. I normally just dissolve 4 aspirin in water, and then gargle with the solution. Has always cleared it up before, the only problem is that I'm out of soluble aspirin. Time to head to the shops, even though I really don't feel like leaving the house.

Vampire Of The Mists: A Book Review

I finished reading this book a few days back, but what with a hectic weekend and then the past couple days of work in Clevedon, I've not had the time or energy to write up this review before now. Vampire of the Mists by Christie Golden is a Ravenloft shared world novel. Ravenloft is a dark demiplane of gothic horror, that is linked via the Mists to other worlds, drawing travellers and such into its confines. It is much easier to get into Ravenloft than it is to get out!

The story however, begins on the Forgotten Realms world of Toril, where we meet the books main "hero" Jander Sunstar. I put the word hero in quote marks, because Jander is a vampire. A gold elf vampire to be precise, turned when he was 200 years old, he has been undead for five centuries. He is not evil, and he hates his existence, but is scared to take his own life, for fear of becoming a creature known as a Crimson Death (which are suppossedly formed from the spirits of vampires), which would be a far worse existence, than the one he is already condemmed too.

During his travels he arrives at the growing city of Waterdeep, and there he feeds on the residents of the insane asylum, when the need to feed can no longer be slaked on the blood of animals. In the asylum he meets Anna, a woman driven mad by some event in her past, but one strikingly beautiful and untouched by time, she has been a resident for over a hundred years when Jander finds her. Touched by her beauty and the hope that he can restore her mind, he spends decades nurturing her, only to lose her to fever. In the time he has known her, she has spoken little, but he has gleaned a name, Barovia, and he swears revenge on the one who drove her mad. The mists hear him and gather him from that world, drawing him into the demiplane, and to the nation of Barovia.

There he soon meets the enigmatic ruler of that forsaken land, Count Strahd von Zarovich, a cold, cruel man who rules Barovia with an iron grip. He too is a vampire, though one far younger than Jander and the two come to an uneasy alliance. Jander needs the Count's library and resources to track down any mention of Anna, and what happened to her there, to make her as he had found her. Strahd, newly undead, has much to learn from the elder vampire.

The book is amazingly well written, and is highly regarded amongst affiando's of gothic horror novels. I don't go in for the Anne Rice whiny vampires, who spend their undead existences bemoaning their tragic fates. Vampires are monsters, pure and simple. They are the walking dead. They are parasites, and they are very powerful. Few writers seem to get that right, but in her first novel, Miss Golden absolutely nails it, and this is a novel that ranks up there with Dracula itself, as one of the very best in the genre. The contrast between Strahd and Jander is the soul of the book, as Jander spends years as the Count's guest in his crumbling castle, learning more about the land and it's past, as well as the Count's role in it, and slowly but surely becoming more distant from his host.

This book easily gets a 5/5 from me, and while it has been out of print for many years (it was first printed in 1991), it is well worth tracking down a copy. You won't be disapointed!

I Drove All Night

I think is one of the most purely sexual songs I have ever heard. While I believe it was originally sung by Roy Orbison, I much prefer the version by Cyndi Lauper. Orbison's voice just isn't suited to this song, whereas Lauper's oozes sensuality, adding another level entirely to a song about a woman who has done exactly what the title says, in order to slip into her lovers bed and wake him with sex. The lyrics are the same either way, but there is a BIG difference between the tracks if you listen to them. Gotta admit, part of me is wickedly curious as to what it would be like for a woman to wake me like that.

I Drove All Night by Cyndi Lauper

I had to escape
The city was sticky and cruel
Maybe I should have called you first
But I was dying to get to you
I was dreaming while I drove
The long straight road ahead, uh, huh

Could taste your sweet kisses
Your arms open wide
This fever for you is just burning me up inside

I drove all night to get to you
Is that alright
I drove all night
Crept in your room
Woke you from your sleep
To make love to you
Is that alright
I drove all night

What in this world
Keep us from tearing apart
No matter where I go I hear
The beating of your heart
I think about you
When the night is cold and dark
No one can move me
The way that you do
Nothing erases the feeling between me and you

I drove all night to get to you
Is that alright
I drove all night
Crept in your room
Woke you from your sleep
To make love to you
Is that alright
I drove all night

Could taste your sweet kisses
Your arms open wide
This fever for you is just burning me up inside

I drove all night to get to you
Is that alright
I drove all night
Crept in your room
Woke you from your sleep
To make love to you
I drove all night... to hold you tight

On Your Marks.. Get Set.. Stop!!

rI am on holiday now for the next 11 days, and as a result have bought myself a few treats to enjoy for the first day or two (I always do this). Got myself a couple varieties of pate, some french mini baguettes, some toffee pecan danishes (well I did have those, they've been devoured whilst I was writing this post). Ohh and a bottle of Mead.

I've always wanted to try Mead. I mean it is the oldest known form of alcohol, and history is replete with mentions of it, dating back as far as 10,000 years. So while I was at Clevedon store today putting labels out in the Beers, Wines and Spirits aisle, I was surprised to find that the store sold a bottle of Harvest Gold Mead. And for only £3.69 too. For 70cl of the stuff, at 13% proof, it certainly looked tempting. So when I was dropped off back at my store this evening, I went and searched, and lo and behold, our store also carries it.

It is in the fridge right now, I tried a slurp of the stuff at room temperature and it is quite nice (it is afterall made from honey), but I think a bit of chill will improve it. So that's my night tonight. I'm going to enjoy french bread with pate, cold mead and a movie I think. As for the rest of the holiday, got no idea what I'm going to do, but I am going to take it easy. Even bought a couple vanilla scented candles to unwind with.

Two Days In Clevedon

I ache EVERYWHERE!! I swear even my aches have aches. My ass is numb, which is kinda odd as I've barely had time to sit on it for the past 2 days. The reason for this being, that my store sent me and a colleague by the name of Jamie Pooley (think that's how his last name is spelt), to Clevedon store. Clevedon is about 35 mins drive away, and their store is one of the last in the country to be converting from a Safeway store into a Morrisons store.

This is a VERY labour intensive process, the store has been swarming with staff, labourers and people like me and Jamie, drafted from other stores in the region, to lend a hand. I barely saw him though, as I was sent to the Admin office and there put under the charge of Sian Lloyd. Sian, while quite lovely to look at and with a striking welsh accent, is a very efficient taskmistress and has ensured for the past couple days while I was there (working from about 8:30am-5pm), that I was kept very busy indeed.

I don't think I have ever done so much walking, in so short a time in my life before. The store is on two levels, with offices and warehouse upstairs, shop floor downstairs. Two sets of stairs link the two floors as well as a cargo elevator. Only one set of stairs was cordoned off, while the flooring was being relaid. So, to get to the admin office, I had to go across the store to the stairs, upstairs, and then back across the store.... followed by all that in reverse to get back to the aisle where I was working. I'm sure you can appreciate just how quickly that adds up to a lot of walking and going up and down stairs.

In our store, I mostly spend the day in the office and tap on order pads, stock sheets, and various other bits of paperwork into the computers. Not so there, for starters their admin office is tiny, and the air conditioning is non-existant, so it is really hot in there! They have a fan on maximum at all times pointed at the servers to stop them from melting. That's how hot that room is. I was glad not to be in there, as anytime I was in there for longer than a couple mins, I started feeling really sleepy.

Sian has had me walking the store, zapping this and that product, bringing the zap gun full of codes back to the office, where she will print off a load of tickets or advertising from the scans, and then little old me gets to go and put them all out... and then start all over again! A long, tiring and frankly, very boring job.

Yesterday, when I got home from work, I was so tired I just went straight to bed, 7pm and I was in the land of Zzzzzz. The shifts are hard enough work, but at the end of both days, our lift home has been late, very late, more than an hour late. It's November, and it is bloody cold outside. Thankfully both our lifts are people who appreciate the use of a heater in their car, and so I sorta didn't notice the trips back to Taunton. Not so tired today. Dunno why though, as I woke up at 3am this morning and couldn't get back to sleep.

More Of The Same

Sooo... another night, another failure. I went out to the Market House for 80's night, same as usual. and when the night was done I walked out and the depression hit me harder and faster than the cold did. Once more I walked home alone, no names, no phone numbers. Goddammit I'm doing something wrong, or I'm not doing something right and I don't know what it is.

It's not like I'm not trying. I used to never go out, I go out regularly now. I never used to dance (or only when there were lots of other people on the floor, thus hiding me to an extent), I now love to dance, and quite often towards the end of the night I'll be the only one on the dancefloor at times. I try and strike up conversations, I smile, I flirt. And still nothing.

I have a couple weeks of paid holiday starting on Wednesday next week. I'm not going anywhere, don't have the money too, just going to relax and take it easy. I think I'm going to give going out a miss for a few weeks, maybe until the New Year. I'm not sure, but right now I just feel like I'm throwing money after a lost cause, and I can't afford to do that.

On another note, I met a few people from work (or who used to work in the same store) at the pub tonight, notably Ben Wallace (from Admin, who informed me that he now reads this site. Heya Ben), Chris Cooke, Samantha (who I remember from the Boxing Day party we threw at this house last year. She was the one who put her foot through the bathroom door, and shagged a guy on the floor of Tony's study) and the incredibly gorgeous Natalie (shame she smokes really). I didn't have much to do with them though, I knew they were there, they knew I was there. That was about it as far as socialising went.

With A Little Help From My Friends

I think this is one of the most uplifting songs that I know of, and it's helped me out of depression a few times before now. The message in the lyrics is a simple one, and yet it is so very true. For all the value I place on my solitude, the truth is that I feel stronger and smarter when I am in the company of my friends. I am lucky in that I share a house with two of them, and I work in a supermarket with several others. I don't honestly know what I would do without my friends, so this ia a big thank you to those I call friend, there aren't that many of you, but I value every last one of you, both here in my town, and those who are spread across the face of our planet, in places as far afield as the United States and New Zealand. I hope you like the song.

With A Little Help From My Friends by Wet Wet Wet

What would you think if I sang out of tune
Would you stand up and walk out on me
Lend me your ears and I’ll sing you a song
And I’ll try not to sing out of key

Oh, I’ll get by with a little help from my friends
Oh, I’ll get high with a little help from my friends
Oh, I’ll get by with a little help from my friends, my friends

What do you do when our love is away
Does it worry you to be alone
And how does it feel by the end of the day
Are you sad because you’re on your own

Oh, I’ll get by with a little help from my friends
Oh, I’ll get high with a little help from my friends
Oh I’ll get by with a little help from my friends
Do you need any body
I need somebody to love
Could it be anybody
I need somebody to love, to love, to love

Would you believe in this love at first sight
Yes I’m certain that it happens all the time
What do you see when you turn out the light
I can’t tell you but I know that it’s mine

Oh, I’ll get by with a little help from my friends
Oh, I’ll get high with a little help from my friends
Oh I’ll get by with a little help from my friends
Do you need any body
I need somebody to love
Could it be anybody
I need somebody to love
Oh, I’ll get by with a little help from my friends
Oh, I’ll get high with a little help from my friends
Oh, I’ll get high with a little help from my friends
Oh, I’ll get by with a little help from my friends
With a little help from my friends, my friends, my friends
Repeat to fade...

Love, Truth And Honesty

I was a huge fan of Bananarama as a kid growing up, and not just them, the 80's pop/rock artists I liked the most were all female, names like the Bangles, Tiffany, Kim Wilde and Belinda Carlisle. Bananarama though were a band I grew to like after hearing some of their music blaring out from a disco in north-east Spain, while on a family holiday there. I got their WOW album on vinyl when we got back to the UK and listened to it often over the next few years. Might still have it at my parents house with the few records I do still have. Bananarama are also the only group I have ever been to a concert to watch, specifically in Newport, to which I was kindly taken by my Aunt Catherine. I don't agree with the sentiment of this songs lyrics, as I class myself as a hopeless romantic (with the emphasis firmly on the hopeless). I guess the optimist in me still believes in love.

Love, Truth And Honesty by Bananarama

Never trust your own emotions
They'll always let you down
And the one that's closest to you
May not always be around

I never questioned
The promises you made
Every time I gave my heart
I was betrayed

What a fool
That I should ever believe
In love, truth and honesty
All the time
You just keep on hurting me

Maybe everyone's a stranger
I watch them come and go
But I think everyone's in danger
If they let their feelings show

There's a lesson
And a price you have to pay
If you give your heart
Dont let it be betrayed

What a fool
That I should ever believe
In love, truth and honesty
All the time
You just keep on hurting me

What a fool
Every time I find I'm deceived
Where is the love, truth and honesty
If you see it
Won't you bring it on home to me

There's a lesson
And a price you have to pay
If you give your heart
Dont let it be betrayed

What a fool
That I should ever believe
In love, truth and honesty
All the time
You just keep on hurting me

What a fool
Every time I find I'm deceived
Where is the love, truth and honesty
If you see it
Won't you bring it on home to me

Retro-Publishing

One of the great advantages that the internet has over print as a forum for expression, is the ability to go back and edit your work, without having to issue an entire new copy of it. I am forever sifting through my back posts and editing them, clearing up typos and bad grammar, substituting words that on retrospect weren't quite what I wanted to say, for those that get my message across better. It is said that hindsight is 20/20, well the internet (and more specifically this blog), allows me to make use of that.

I also add to past posts, such as today adding an extra paragraph into the Rogues Gallery for Derek Adams, as well as removing a comment I made in jest about Jon Wright in his Rogues Gallery entry, which he seems to have taken offense too. Do I think that this is re-writing the past? Yes. Do I think that this is wrong in any way? No.

A Poem By My Ex

I got sent this poem in a letter that was hand written by my ex-girlfriend Dana while she was in tears. She was crying because she'd received a letter from me that morning in which I'd poured out my feelings as we had broken up. We were writing to one another as we lived (and still do) about 100 miles apart. We had split up over online roleplay, a virtual life being allowed to impose itself over reality. Silly of us both I suppose, now that I look back on it. We had met in a Gorean chatroom, where my character had captured and enslaved hers.

And we talked on MSN and ICQ and our relationship became more based on our knowledge of each other in this world. I remember that as time went on, I would talk and talk and she loved to just listen while I rambled on. And that annoyed me, because I got less and less in return. At times it felt like I was talking to a wall for all the response I would get back. I think more than anything else that is what led to our first break-up which spurred this poem. I love this poem, and I loved her. We don't talk anymore, the last few times we did were barely civil conversations and I grew tired of her anger and silence. She told me not long back that she had been single since breaking up with me. I hope someday she finds someone else who inspires her to write something as beautiful as this poem.

Summers Dreams Forgotten by Dana James-Parsons

Summers dreams forgotten
Lost to the damp and the grey
Solitary confinement in limbo
It looks like I'm here to stay
Longing for the light that guided me
Extinguished, seemingly dead
Still I grasp for hope
Knowing there is more to be said
I cannot believe this is the end
Foolish faith refuses to break
But the cold of winter pierces my heart
Because a lovers touch was forsake
An angel with broken wings
Evangeline left bloodied to weep
Only one man knows how to fix me
And he refuses to speak
So lost in the pain and the darkness
I sit, wait and pray
For the arms I love to embrace me
And the forgiving warm light of day

Rogues Gallery: Derek Adams

So onto gallery entry number six, and this time I turn the spotlight on my friend Derek Adams (who really isn't satanic at all, despite what he looks like in this picture... at least I don't think he is). Sorry for the bad photo mate!

Derek is the older (and shorter) brother of Richard Adams, and the pair share a flat near the supermarket where I work. It strikes me as I write this that I don't know nearly as much about Derek as I thought I did. I'm not sure how old he is for example, or what he does for a living, though I do remember he works somewhere in or near the nearby town of Wellington. As a result of having to commute to work, Derek is one of only a very few of my friends who can drive.

A fan of sci-fi and fantasy, Derek enjoys a wide variety of roleplaying systems, from Werewolf through D&D to Kult. His interest extends to television and movies too, and he is a big fan of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine having every episode on tape.

He also likes skulls and japanese symbols, or at least the imagery of them, and anything featuring them generally gets his interest, as evidenced by the decor in the lounge of the flat. The lounge also features a bay window, much like the one in my own room, which overhangs the pavement outside, and this does seem to be Derek's favourite place to sit (I've witnessed him on several occasions being quite eager to give up a sofa seat to a friend, in order that he can sit there).

When I slipped and broke my left wrist in the (now thankfully closed) Cafe Mamba nightclub, about 3 years ago, Derek (along with Richard and Sean), caught up to me as I was walking home alone. I was in shock and a pretty serious state of denial, refusing to admit that I'd broken a bone (I'd never done so before). The trio insisted I go to Rich and Derek's flat, and they called for a taxi to take me to Musgrove Park Hospital. When it arrived, Rich and Sean were elsewhere (think they were getting takeaway food down the street, not sure), and so Derek accompanied me to the Casualty dept. He stayed there with me for more than 4 hours, while I waited (in a LOT of pain) to be seen too by a Doctor, and then kept me company as they X-Rayed my wrist and then plastered it up. He kept me talking, kept me thinking, about things other than the pain I was in, and he made sure I got home afterward. Not sure I've ever really thanked him enough for that.

It occurs to me that what I don't know about Derek kinda outnumbers what I can say for sure about him. I've been out on the town with him a few times, yet for the life of me I can't recall what he likes to drink, or what music he likes. I don't know what his favourite movie is, or even if he has one. I do know that I enjoy his company and that he is a good person to talk with, his opinions make sense and he is a good conversationalist. Ohh one other thing I can say about him, is that the mess in his bedroom is the stuff of legends (though I just have his brothers opinion to go by on this one, as I don't think I've ever seen inside his room).

Never Been Kissed

To start with, this isn't a review of the movie starring Drew Barrymore. This is about me. I kinda wish my life starred Drew Barrymore, but I'm not that lucky. *Takes a deep breath*

I started writing this blog, in part because I do love to write and I needed an outlet for that, and in part because I wanted a place I could point people too if they wanted to get to know me better. Granted, this place is another way of me letting my typing do my talking, but I think I do that well enough that it can be excused in this instance. I wanted to help people to understand me. I post my rants and rages here, I get annoyed, so does everyone. I post about what I do, and how I feel. I post about my friends, as part of understanding me, is understanding the company I keep and why. But of late I've not really been posting that much about me.

Hence this post. The title refers to, well probably my worst kept secret. I'm turning thirty years old on January 16th. And I've never been kissed. Okay that's not strictly true, I mean my Mum's kissed me, relatives have kissed me, heck a bully named Steven Woodland at school kissed me, simply to get a laugh from everyone else. But a romantic kiss? A passionate kiss? A drunken "you'll do, c'mere" kiss? None of the above. Not even a good luck kiss, a happy new year kiss, or a "ohhh mistletoe" kiss.

Is that a great secret? Maybe, maybe not. So lets not stop there, while I'm baring my soul, lets go for broke. It really isn't that big a step anyway. I mean it doesn't take a genius to figure out that if I've never kissed a girl... I've never gotten any further with one either. So yeah I'm the V word. In a purity test I normally rate in the high 90's percentage wise.

*Breathes out* Well that wasn't so hard to admit, maybe because I've admitted it before to a fair number of people, so I think that took the sting out of the tail of admitting such to the world at large (not that I'm so conceited as to think the world reads my blog). So do I feel like less of a man because I've not scored, pulled, carved a notch in a bedpost etc? I'm honestly not sure. I know back when I was in University in my early twenties, then yeah, I regarded still being a virgin as this great failing on my part. But now?

I think part of the reason why I don't feel that way anymore, is that I have nothing to compare the experience too. If I'd had the kissing, the hugs, the cuddles etc then yeah, I'd be stoked for what comes next. But I've never had any of that, the best time I've ever had with a woman, was a couple hours spent snuggled up on the sofa with my ex-girlfriend Dana watching cartoons. And as much as I'm curious as to what a kiss is like, I'm scared too. Women can be a pretty unforgiving lot, us blokes don't often get a second chance to impress, and being labelled a bad kisser (or bad in bed) is a hard tag to get past for even a young guy.

I'm getting older and I'm not getting any better looking. Despite my optimistic attempts at flirting on Saturday nights, the truth is that I think I am doomed to repeated failure. I have a hang-up about intimacy, because while online I might know what I'm doing in type, in the real world I lack the words and the moves. And as Sunday's episode proved, I lack the courage to change that. And I don't know what to do about that.

Cybermen!!!

Okay I had to write a post for this. I saw this pic on the BBC News website today (though it was posted a couple days ago apparently). Now for many people the Daleks are the best villains from Doctor Who, not for me though. For me, that honour goes to these creatures. The Cybermen.

I'm not sure what exactly it is about them that scared me as a kid (and still gives me goosebumps now). I think it is because they were once human (or close to it). Residents of the planet Mondas (and later after Mondas was destroyed, the planet Telos), they were an advanced society that became afflicted with a plague. As the disease ate away their bodies, so they replaced the parts that failed with metal and wires, until only their brains remained. Devoid of feelings, they now seek to make others in their own image. The Borg from Star Trek are directly inspired (copied) from these earlier inventions.

Next year is the 40th anniversary of them first appearing on TV screens, and fittingly it marks their return to television (they were last seen in 1988), in a 2 part episode to be shown on BBC1 next spring. The picture is their redesign for the new millennium... and hot damn they look good. Easily recognizable as a Cyberman, and as an evolution of past models (every time they have appeared on Doctor Who, they have had a slightly different look, which is fitting as they are continually upgrading and improving themselves). Yet there are other influences in the new design, most notably from the robot in Metropolis (shoulders and tops of legs). Sure is gonna be fun seeing these soulless automatons back on the box.

Red Magic: A Book Review

Time for another book review, having finished this particular tome on Friday at work, but what with D&D Friday night, and a late shift (not to mention a stinking headache) Saturday night, and then of course the cinema date debacle yesterday, it falls until now for me to write it up. So anyway, on with the review.

Red Magic by Jean Rabe, is a Forgotten Realms novel and the 3rd book in the Harpers series of stand-alone adventures, each featuring an agent (or sometimes more than one) of the semi-secret organisation for good in this fantasy world. This particular book focuses on two Harpers, Galvin (a druid), and Wynter (a centaur). Accompanying them on their journey is Brenna Greycloak, a wizardess and a politician from the nation of Aglarond. She and the Harpers have been sent to evaluate a possible threat from Aglarond's neigbouring country Thay.

Thay is arguably the most evil nation on the planet, a large realm that sits upon a lofty plateau (and thus overlooks everyone else), that is ruled by the tyrannical Red Wizards. Slavery is widespread as is magic, the wizards regular use of weather alteration magic, has made what should be a windswept prairie, into the most fertile farmland in all the Realms. Thus Thay is VERY wealthy. The only reason Thay has not conquered every nation around it, is that the evil wizards bicker and fight amongst each other, and so undermine their combined power.

Hearing from an informer that a wizard by the name of Maligor is raising and training a large army, and having borne the brunt of Thayan aggression many times, Aglarond's council is worried that the wizards again seek to go to war against it. The trio sent to investigate are an odd bunch, Galvin loves nature and hates civilisation, he avoids it like the plague in fact. Wynter is a farmer most of time, but he grew up in Thay, knows how evil that land is, and when the Harpers ask him to work to thwart the wizards who live there, he is eager to do so. Brenna doesn't fit in at all, a city raised mage, she is completely out of place in the wilderness, and spends a good part of the book having to acclimatise herself. Still once they reach Thay itself, her haughty bearing and refined way of speaking come in useful, as the native Thayans are nothing if not arrogant.

As it turns out Maligor has no intention of going to war with Aglarond, his army of gnolls (7' hyena men) that he has been amassing and training (and being VERY public about doing so) is merely a distraction. He knows that anything he does will be being watched by other wizards, so his army is there to give them something to watch and wonder about. All the while, in hidden chambers (that are cloaked from magical scrying), he is amassing another army of Darkenbeasts. Darkenbeasts are created via use of a vile spell, that turns a small animal into a 6' winged killing machine. Needless to say, Galvin is livid when he realises what the wizard is up too.

The books other main character is the wizard Szass Tam. A rival of Maligor's, and a man with the ambition to someday rule all of Thay. He is far more patient than Maligor, but then time is on his side, as he is undead. What he cannot countenance is Maligor gaining in power, because any victory for him is a blow to Tam's preminent standing amongst the wizards. He also HATES Harpers, considering them to be mere meddlers.

The plot is good, and the story moves along at a decent pace, until about the last 50 pages where it accelerates. I think the conclusion is a bit too rushed, it is clear that the author could have used another 50-100 pages, and the story would have been better for that extra space I feel. The characters are all good, not a forgettable one amongst them, and the book is an essential read for any Dungeon Master wanting to run a D&D campaign in Thay. I'm going to give the book 4/5.

Everybody Needs Somebody

I have a confession to make. I've never actually seen this movie. I've seen clips from it, it's been on TV enough times, and I've meant to see it plenty of times. I just never have gotten around to doing so, something else has always come up, or I've just plain forgotten about it. Still, I do love this song, especially the introduction. The lyrics don't really do the song justice, you gotta hear it to love it. But here they are anyway:

Everybody Needs Somebody by The Blues Brothers

We’re so glad to see so many of you lovely people here tonight, and we would especially like to welcome all the representatives of Illinois’ law enforcement community who have chosen to join us in the Palace Hotel ballroom at this time. We do sincerely hope you’ll all enjoy the show, and please remember people, that no matter who you are, and what you do to live, thrive and survive, there are still some things that make us all the same. You, me, them, everybody, everybody...

Everybody needs somebody
Everybody needs somebody to love (someone to love)
Sweetheart to miss (sweetheart to miss)
Sugar to kiss (sugar to kiss)
I need you you you
I need you you you
I need you you you in the morning
I need you you you when my soul’s on fire

Sometimes I feel
I feel a little sad inside
When my baby mistreats me
I never never never have a place to hide
I need you

Sometimes I feel
I feel a little sad inside
When my baby mistreats me
I never never never have a place to hide
I need you you you
I need you you you
I need you you you
I need you you you
I need you

You know people when you do find that somebody
Hold that woman, hold that man
Love him, hold him, squeeze her, please her, hold her
Squeeze and please that person, give ’em all your love
Signify your feelings with every gentle caress
Because it’s so important to have that special somebody
To hold, kiss, miss, squeeze and please

Everybody needs somebody
Everybody needs somebody to love
Someone to love
Sweetheart to miss
Sugar to kiss
I need you you you
I need you you you
I need you you you...

I Got What I Deserved

I asked a lady out on a date tonight... No. That's not true. That's a lie. Let me start again.

I almost asked a lady out on a date tonight. What I actually did was chicken out of asking her, and instead placed a note where I knew she'd find it, that "asked" her, and vanished. Ironically at the bottom of the note I left her, I gave her the address for this page, so there is a good chance she might be reading this.

If so, I'd like to say sorry. You deserved better than that. I don't know why I asked you in the fashion that I did, I was there, the words were in my mouth and they died there. I lost the nerve to say them and left that note instead. I let my typing do my talking. So I got the evening that I deserved. I went to the cinema and I waited for something like 2 hours either in the foyer or outside (barring a couple brief excursions to McDonalds for a bite to eat, and the Hollywood Bowl for a drink). Yeah it was cold, but by then I knew you weren't turning up, and I didn't care if I got chilly.

So after 2 hours I figured I might as well watch a movie since I was there, and by that time pretty much the only film left to see was Wallace & Gromit (which I wanted to see anyway). It was a good film, I laughed a bit, but I think I'll enjoy it more the next time I see it. I am very angry with myself right now, I do care about this woman, have done for quite a while now. I don't know why I lost my nerve.

I don't think it is the "No" that I'm afraid of hearing, it's what else goes with it. From past experience, women don't just say no. It's not enough to say no to a guy, when he asks them out and they're not interested. They always have to say something else, something to put the guy down, as though how dare he think himself worthy to ask them out. And while I do not think she would say anything like that, she does not strike me as the type who would, part of me greatly fears hearing that kind of a put down in her voice anyway.

Thank You Guilt!!

I was late to work this morning. not really late, they didn't have to phone to wake me or anything like that. But, I was suppossed to be in work at 8am this morning. At 8am on the dot I woke up and sat bolt upright in bed as a guilt trip from hell woke me up. I knew instantly that I was late for work, before I could even see my alarm clock, (which I keep on the other side of my bedroom, so that I have to get up in order to turn it off). I know I couldn't see the alarm clock, because without my glasses on everything beyond a couple feet is a bit of a blur at best. Still, with glasses on a few moments later, I confirmed what I already knew. I had forgotten to set my alarm clock last night.

Still I was in work for 8:20am, unshaven, but otherwise presentable. And I was in the Admin office to open it up before the store opened at 8:30am. Had to stay on 20 mins at the end of the shift though to make up the lost time, but considering how many times I have been late to work in the past I am used to that.

I am glad I was in work today. Today is Armistice Day, and it was my job to make the announcements over the store tannoy system that the store would cease trading at 11am to observe a two minute silence in rememberance. A normal tannoy announcement is about two lines long, this was from a script sent by Head Office and was five lines in length. So I rehearsed it a few times in the run up to 10:45am, when the annoucements would begin every 5 mins, to alert customers to what was about to happen.

I am so very glad I didn't screw it up, and I received a fair few compliments from other members of staff throughout the day, for a job well done. Especially from the older members of staff. I get to do that again on Sunday, for Rememberance Day, as while the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month commerates the end of World War 1, so Rememberance Sunday is to remember the dead of every war, that has been fought in the name of defending this country. There is very little about myself that I am proud of, but I am proud that I got to play that small part today.

Nothing Much Happened Today

I've had the day off work, and been taking it easy. As I didn't have to get up early I didn't bother to set my alarm clock, and as it was gone 3am before I got into bed (owing to roleplaying in a Gor chatroom where my character lives), so it was about 11am when I finally woke up. Grabbed a quick shower and made myself an early lunch (Turkey ham and brown sauce sandwiches, washed down with apple & blackcurrant cordial) and sat down at the computer.

Didn't have much in the way of emails to sort through and no messages on either MSN or ICQ to read, and when Shaye headed to work, I was left with no-one online to talk too, I lost myself in the game of Civilisation III that I've been playing on and off for the past week, finally winning a cultural victory, whilst simultaneously crushing the Arabian civilisation into the dust (hey they declared war on me, just defending myself. Quite why they were stupid enough to do this, when I had tanks and aircraft, and they were still defending their cities with spearmen I don't know. Sure was fun exterminating them though).

I've done a bit of roleplay online today, read my usual assortment of webcomics and news pages, and listened to my jukebox folder of mp3's on random play for the past few hours. Flicked through my latest issue of Dragon magazine too, but nothing in it that really grabed my imagnation and made me think "Ohh, gotta find a way to use that in my D&D campaign". Not sure what to do now for the rest of the evening, but I am tempted to lob a DVD in the machine and watch a movie on my widescreen tv down in the lounge. Now I just need to choose what to watch!

Dancing For Her Food

This is another excerpt from the novel Witness of Gor, one of my favourite books from the series. In this exceprt the girl Janice has been summoned to the quarters of the guard officer Terrance of Treve. Having not been fed since dawn, and just finished serving him food, she is ravenous, but if she wants to be fed, she must first dance well for her Master:

I did not even know the name of he who reclined upon the divan. But what needed I to know, other than the fact that he was a free man, and I would address him as “Master”? He knew my name, of course, the only name I had, which had been put on me in this place, ‘Janice’.
I was barefoot. There were bangles on my ankles.
“The Earth woman is hungry?”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“And would be fed?”
“Yes, Master,”
“We shall see how you perform,” he said.
“Master?” I asked.
“Do you know how to use your veil?” he asked.
“I do not understand,” I said.
“Discard it then,” he said.
I removed the veil from about my shoulders, and dropped it to the side. It floated to the glossy tiles, and lay there, lightly, crumpled.
“Remove your outer silks,” he said.
I obeyed, and put them to the side.
The music rippled.
I wore now a skirt of filmy silk, which would swirl as I moved. It was open to my left. My midriff was muchly bared. My breasts were haltered high. Tiny straps came over my shoulders. In such garments one might serve at more decorous banquets, though, to be sure, most likely not if free women were present. When free women are present, one usually serves gowned, or tunicked. At less decorous banquets one might expect to serve differently, in a ta-teera, in rags, in a slave strip, naked, in such ways. I wore bracelets, an armlet, bangles. Too, I had been given earrings, golden rings.
“Do you know the name of this world?” he asked.
“Gor,” I said.
“Do you know how to dance?” he asked.
“No!” I said.
“Surely they taught you something in the pens,” he said.
“I am not a dancer!” I wept.
“Surely you know something of the basic steps,” he said, “the walks, the glides, the presentations, the turns, the arm movements?”
“A little, Master,” I said, in misery. To be sure, one is not likely to escape the pens without being taught such rudiments.
“You are going to dance for me, Earth woman,” he said.
“I do not know how to dance!” I protested.
There was a tiny, skeptical skirl from one of the instruments.
“Beginning position!” he snapped.
There are several such. I swiftly flexed my knees, lifted my rib cage, and put my hands together, wrists crossed, over my head, the backs of my hands facing out, the palm of my right hand over the palm of my left hand.
He rose from the divan, as I stood thusly before the divan, so posed, and went to the side of the room. From one of the ornate chests he fetched forth a thick, single-bladed, snakelike slave whip. I watched him with terror as he approached. Then he stood to one side. Then, suddenly, at the side, he snapped the whip. The report was like the crack of a rifle. I nearly fainted. I sobbed.
“You are going to dance for me, Earth woman,” he said, menacingly, “and as what you are, and what you are only, an Earth-girl slave before her Gorean master.” He then snapped the whip again. “Do you understand?” he asked.
“Yes, Master!” I wept.
He then returned to the divan, on which he reclined, the whip on the silks beside him, inches from his grasp.
“Begin,” he said.
I danced.
At one point he lifted his finger and the music stopped, and I stopped.
“Do you know the use of finger cymbals?” he asked.
“No, Master,” I said.
“Continue,” he said.
And so again the music began, and again I danced. Alas, I, so little trained in the art form, fro an art form it is, was only too painfully aware of how far short my efforts must fall from those of a skilled performer. Could I do more than squirm, and writhe, and plead with my body, for mercy? But perhaps my desperation might amuse him? Perhaps he was merely interested in registering, with bemused tolerance, the inept, pathetic strivings of an Earth-girl slave to please him, hoping not to be beaten. Perhaps he was having me do this merely that he might at the end, for my clumsiness, lash me? Yet, too, I did not want to betray the dance. I loved it. It is so beautiful. I wanted, thusly, to suggest, within my limits, at least, something of the richness, the complexity, the profound sensuousness of such dance. Such dance can be a revelation to those who are unfamiliar with it, who have never seen it. Some never suspect how beautiful and exciting a woman can be until they see her in such dance. In few ways better than in such dance is it made more evident what an incredibly beautiful, marvelous, precious, wonderful thing a woman is. It is no wonder they want to get their chains on us. And, too, of course, I was frightened of him. I did want to display myself, and present myself, well before him. I did not want to be whipped. But, too, I confess, I wanted him to want me. I was stirred by him, powerfully, sexually, as I was by many on this world, such men, and I wanted, thusly, to please him and excite him. He, as many men on this world, set fires in my belly. I danced before him. He helped himself, from time to time, to some of the food left on the table, a grape, a tiny viand, keeping his eyes on me. I must remember the hand and arm movements, the spins, the circles, the lifts, the thrusts! And then, at some point, perhaps when I was kneeling before him, moving my arms, and head and shoulders, I think I became one with the music and the dance. Startled I rose to my feet and began to move about the room. Were there hundreds present? Did they feast their eyes on this dancer? I went even to the musicians and moved, presenting myself as a slave, before them. Were they not, too, men, and thus such as before whom it was appropriate that I present myself, hoping for their approbation? In the eyes of the musicians I read something that I had not expected to find, that they were not displeased with the sight of the slave before them. How this made me hope, and how my heart was filled with a sudden surge of elation!

But it was not these men whom I must most desperately strive to please. It was another. I returned, to move before him. Then, again, I whirled away, going about the divan, to the narrow window and dancing before it. Doubtless there were none out there who saw me so move. The lights were beautiful. I then, in my dance, utilized the corners and surfaces of chests, and the walls of the room. I saw, beside the divan, a coil of chain. I danced away from it, terrified. Then it seemed I was alone with the dance, and my joy in it. And then, a moment later, wildly, it seemed again that I must dance for many. Did I hear the striking of the shoulders in applause, the pounding of goblets on low tables, the urgent cries of men? What power, I thought, must a dancer, a true dancer, exercise over men! How she must arouse them, how she must drive them mad with passion! But what power, ultimately, is hers, for she is in her collar? When the music stops is she not then, clearly, once again, only a slave at the feet of men? And is not the central, nonrepudiable message of this dance, in its entire concept, in its beauty, in its presentation of the female in all her marvelous sensuousness that man is the master? This form of dance, on this world, is called “slave dance.” That is perhaps partly because, on this world, it is permitted only to slaves, but I think it is more likely because, in it, the nature of women is clearly manifested as slave. One might also mention that the dancer, in this form of dance, on this world, is commonly expected to satisfy the passions which she may have aroused. The submission which commonly figures in the finale of her dance, on this world, is not, I assure you, purely symbolic.

I danced out, only the porch, overlooking the city, the lights. I now saw that some of the lights, indeed, were on the distant walls of the city. They were beacons. Their primary purpose is to guide in the warriors, mounted on the gigantic saddlebirds, to enable them to safely negotiate the defenses of stakes and wire on the walls. The stars were very beautiful. I looked up and gasped, for then, for the first time, I saw the three moons. I had learned there were three moons here but this was the first time I had seen them. One does not see the moons in the pens, or in the depths, and, if they were visible, I had not noticed them during the light of the day.
“Return, slave,” I heard.
I swiftly whirled about, and re-entered the room there were three moons here! But then, in a moment, I was, again, before he upon the divan.
He lifted his finger and the music stopped, and I, too, stopped.
There is one aspect to slave dance to which I have neglected to call explicit attention, but it is one which, I suspect, at least implicitly, is clear to all. Slave dance is arousing to the female who dances it. Once cannot move as in slave dance without becoming sexually aroused. In this sense, twofold effect occurs when we dance before masters. One has not only an arousal display but an arousal activity. And there is a reciprocal, mutually reinforcing, interaction between these things, as one understands that one is arousing, and he understands that you are also being aroused, and you know that he understands this, and so on. Indeed, slave dance can function as a cure for frigidity. It relieves inhibitions, improves confidence, and, I suppose, to some extent, literally stirs and stimulates organs. It is difficult for a body which has been trained in slave dance, for example, to be stiff and unresponsive. To be sure, there are many cures for frigidity. An obvious one is the condition of bondage itself. Another is the whip, and switch.
“Remove your upper silk,” he said.
I undid the halter, and slipped it away.
I saw that I would, indeed, dance as an Earth-girl slave before her Gorean master.
For a time I danced in this fashion, and then, again, he lifted his finger and the music stopped, and, I too, stopped.
I looked at the remains of the food on the low table. I was very hungry.
“Remove your silk,” said he, “Earth woman.”
My hands went to the hip band and undid the clasp there. I lifted the silk to the side. I dropped it to the tiles.
He indicated to the musicians that they should again play. This time, doubtless in virtue of some arrangement with, or signal conveyed to, the musicians, it was an extreme adagio melody to which I must move. I remained in place, so dancing, almost without movement.
He picked up the whip, and walked about me, scrutinizing the slave.
I was terribly afraid I would be struck.
Then he was again before me, back some five feet or so, that he might have an excellent view.
The whip, coiled, was in his right hand.
“Do the women of your world often dance thusly, naked before their males?” he asked.
“I do not know, Master,” I said.
“Doubtless they will have them dance thusly, for they are men,” he mused.
I was silent.
“And do they whip the women if they are not pleasing?” he asked.
“I do not know, Master,” I said.
“You seem to know very little of your world,” he said.
“It is very different from this world, Master,” I said.
“But you know that you will be whipped, here on this world, Earth woman, if you are not pleasing, don’t you?”
“Yes, Master!” I said.
With a motion of his wrist he flicked out the blade of the whip, uncoiling it. He observed it. The end of the blade, snakelike, narrow and tapering, was upon the tiles. He then, with another movement of his wrist, lifted it from the tiles.
“Please, do not whip me, Master,” I begged. “I will try to be pleasing!”
“I am sure you will,” said he, “Earth woman.”
He then returned to the divan, and reclined thereupon. He indicated to the musicians that they might increase the tempo, which they did.
I danced.
How helpless we are!
How these men master us!
I wore my collar. It was narrow, close-fitting, locked. It was a state collar. On it was my name, that name which had been given to me, ‘Janice’. I had been a free woman of Earth. I had then been brought to this world. I was now only a slave.
I danced.
How incredibly free and female I felt.
I danced.
I had been sent to his quarters.
I danced before him.
I wondered how I looked to him. I hoped desperately that he might find me pleasing. I wondered how women such as I looked to males. Well, I conjectured, in our collars, obeying, hoping to please, striving desperately to please. How exciting, how glorious, how joyful, how real, how meaningful it must be to be a male on a world such as this, I thought, a world in which they had such power, at least over such as I. Here, you see, they had kept their mastery, in the order of nature. Here males were men, and here females, at least those such as I, could only be women, their women. How was it, I wondered, that these men had never relinquished their nature, that they had never surrendered their manhood, that they had never betrayed their blood, that they had never permitted themselves to be diminished and reduced, destroyed and crippled? I did not know. But they had not. Did they sense the danger we might pose to them, if they were weak, or permissive, or lenient? Was that why they were as they were? Was that why they put us in collars and kept us at their feet, because they knew us so well? But how could we be women if they were not men? Or had they profited from some hideous illustration of nature gone awry, from the dismal instruction of some tragic lesson, from the clear example of some pathological mistake, one they would simply not permit to occur in their won world? Or, perhaps, it was merely that this world had developed as it had, drawing strength and meaning from nature, rather than trying to live, dry and rootless, apart from her? But, as I danced before him, I did not think merely how exciting, how glorious, how joyful, how real, how meaningful it must be to be a male on this world but also, despite its dangers, its terrors, how exciting, how glorious, how joyful, how real, how meaningful it was to be a woman on this world! I had never begun to feel so fulfilled on my old world as I had here. It was only on this world, it seemed, that I had, in my small, lowly way, begun to feel fully meaningful. It was here that someone, deeper and more real than names, had found herself.
I knew who she was.
It was fully fitting that she danced as she did, before such a man. It was not merely he who knew this, you see. It was I, as well.
“To the floor,” said he, “Earth woman.”
The Earth woman then, to the music, slowly and gracefully lowered herself to the floor, and there, to those sensuous strains, speaking so unabashedly to the blood of men and women, continued her dance.
He clapped his hands, ending the music.
I rose to all fours, before him, on the glossy tiles.
“You are not now closely silked,” he said.
So I knelt now before him, my back straight, my head down, the palms of my hands down on my thighs, my knees properly, widely spread.
I heard him speak to the musicians. I head the clinking of what was doubtless a small sack of coins. One by one the three musicians left. One said, “A pretty slave.” Another said, “Yes,” He before whom I had performed said, “She has much to learn.” “Doubtless she will be well taught,” said the leader of the musicians.
“I wish you well,” said the officer to them. “We wish you well,” said the leader of the musicians. They had then left.
I remained kneeling before the divan, head down.
I heard something strike the tiles before me. It was a tiny leg of roast fowl.
I looked up at him, knowing that I dare not yet break position.
I was ravenously hungry. I was starving.
But I could not yet reach for the food.
I had not yet received permission.
“You may feed,” he said

Deep Deep Trouble

Heh I love this song, and I know all the lyrics off by heart, have done for years. It has no special meaning for me, no great memory or event it causes me to remember. It just makes me smile. Also as an aside, this is the 100th post for this blog that I've written, though I've not (yet) reached 100 published posts, as there are at any time between 3-6 posts in draft form that I'm working on. Hope you like the song.

Deep Deep Trouble by The Simpsons

Bart:
Let me start at the start, then take it away
My name is Simpson, Bartholomew J.
That's Bart with an "art" and a capital "B"
Then "Simp" plus "s-o-n" that's me
Introductions aside, let's move right along
You can all sing along at the sound of the gong
Once upon a time, about a week ago
All of the sudden, trouble started to grow
Alarm was buzzin', I was snoozin'
Supposed to get up now, but I was refusing
To let reality become an intrusion
'Cause in dreamy-dreamland I was cruisin'
But the buzz kept buzzin', my head kept fuzzin'
Gave the radio a throw and heard an explosion
I opened up my eyes to my surprise
There stood Homer and his temperature rise
I was chillin', he was yellin'
Face all distorted, 'cause he was propellin'
It wasn't what he said, more like his tone
The usual jibe, "put your nose to the grindstone"
I said "I'm real sorry", but that didn't cut it.
I started to protest, but Dad said

Homer:
Shut it! Get up, mow the lawn! Move it on the double!
'Cause if you don't, you're in deep, deep, trouble!

Back-up Singers:
Trouble! Deep, deep trouble!
Wanted to snuggle! Deep, deep trouble!

Bart:
So I'm in the front yard mowing like crazy
Sweating like a pig and the sun is blazing
Homer's in the driveway, gettin' in the car
With Mom and Lisa, I hope they're going real far
Then Dad yells ---

Homer: Bart!
Bart: And I go, "Yo!" He goes ---
Homer: You done yet?
Bart: And I go, "No." So he goes ---
Homer: Oh, you're too slow!

Bart:
So I step on the gas, to speed up the mow
Didn't see that sprinkler underneath that tree
Wham! Keee! Pisssssh!
Rainin' on me! I go, "Whoa!" Homer goes ---

Homer:
D'oh! Now you can't go, to the boat show!

Bart:
This is my thanks after working my butt off?
Homer revs the motor and they all start to putt off.
Soaked to the bone, standin' in a puddle...
No one needs to tell me I'm in deep, deep trouble...

Back-up Singers:
Trouble! Deep, deep trouble!
One! Two Trouble! Deep, deep trouble!

Bart:
As soon as they're gone, I'm stretched on the lawn
Looking at the sky with my sunshades on
Now I never ever claimed that I was a smarty
But inspiration hits me: "Let's have a party!"
I called up my posse. They were here in a flash
They brought all their pals, we started to thrash!
There was rompin', and stompin', an occasional crash
A fist fight or two, and Nintendo for cash
We raided the fridge, dogs raided the trash
I got a little worried when the windows got smashed
The next thing you know Mom and Dad are home
The kids disappear, and I'm all alone
Everything is silent except for my moan
And the low bluesy tone of a saxophone
They look at me, then they go into a huddle
Got the sinking sensation, I'm in deep, deep trouble

Back-up Singers:
Trouble! Deep, deep Trouble!
You're in trouble! Deep, deep trouble!

Bart:
There's a little epilogue to my tale of sadness
I was dragged down the street by His Royal Dadness
We rounded the corner and came to a stop
Threw me inside Jake's barber shop
I said, "please sir just a little off the top..."
Dude shaved me bare, gave me a lollipop
So on my head there's nothing but stubble
Man, I hate bein' in deep, deep trouble!

Back-up Singers: Trouble! Deep, deep trouble! (repeated)
Bart: Oh, come on man.

The Idiot Trainee

The store I work at was the first one in the south west of England to be converted from a Safeway into a Morrisons supermarket. This means that we are the regional training store, and thus since February (when we changed over to the new format), most weeks we have had staff from other stores in the region coming into the store, to learn the "Morrisons Way" of doing things. Now this is all well and good, and while part of the Cake Shop, I helped train quite a number of people, some took to it better than others, but I don't think I'd ever come across anyone I'd generally regard as hopeless... until now.

Enter Tina, wh0 we have been training in the Admin dept for the past week, and who easily qualifies as the worst trainee I have ever encountered (and the worst everyone else in Admin have encountered also). One of the easiest tasks is inputting the Order Pads onto the system. The pads are taken down to the shopfloor every day, by various depts, they write into them what they need to order, and return them to the office, we (the Admin clerks) then type them onto the system, and when they are all typed on, we send the order off to the depot. Easy.

Not for her though, she just cannot input them right. Even after a weeks practice (it took me 2 days to get the hang of it), she keeps messing them up, and not only does she input them wrong (meaning we then have to go through the order and correct it) but she is maddeningly slow at them. She takes twice as long (at least) and still does them wrong, meaning Ben, Lynda or myself have to go back through her work and re-do it.

Take today for example (she was thankfully on a day off work today, but still her influence was felt), as Kim (who works on the Home & Leisure dept) came storming into the office, to show us an order that was inputted yesterday by Tina. The order was for ironing board covers, and had been for 1 case, but then that had been scribbled out and a 2 put in its place. With a few other items on that page, the column for that days orders came to 11 items. Easy. Except apparently not for Tina, who went and entered the 2 and scribble as a 24 and then changed the column total to 33 to fit her new figure. 24 cases of ironing board covers at 5 covers per case, will be arriving on tomorrows delivery as a result. That's about a 6 month supply at least of them. Now, granted we all had a good laugh about this (much to Kim's annoyance), but it is a costly error nonetheless.

If that were the extent of it, then I'd simply say she is a slow learner, but thats not all. She seems to be convinced that most of what we are trying to train her to do, she won't have to do at her store, because "There's a lady who comes in and answers the phones, does the filing and such, she's an admin clerk!" Which is what we are, which is EXACTLY what she is and what we are "trying" to train her to be. We're at our wits end trying to drum it into this womans head that she is going to have to answer the phone when it rings, she is going to need to know how the filing works, and what the computer programs do.

Tomorrow I have to put up with her all morning by myself as I have no help in until 1pm. Someone get me a glass of whiskey, a gun and two bullets... I think I'm gonna need them!

Rogues Gallery: Jon Wright

Gallery entry number five brings me to my friend and ex-housemate Jon. To be honest while I count Jon amongst my best friends these days, about 20 months ago I barely knew him. Back then Tony and I were living in seperate flats on either side of Priorswood Road across town. It was on a walk back from the cinema, that we hit upon the idea of looking to rent a place together, as we were perpetually in one flat or the other anyway, and were paying out way too much in seperate bills for either of us to be comfortable with.

So we started looking, and quickly realised that with house rental prices as they are, we would need a third housemate to make it worthwhile. Enter an old friend of mine Ashleigh Garland, who was living with his parents, was around the same age as us, and who could have done with moving out at long last. Unfortunately, he proved to be very inconsistent, never turned up to view houses, wouldn't submit to a credit check with the letting agency, and we lost the house we wanted. So we washed our hands of him, and were about to start looking for a new third man, when Jon appeared.

And I mean literally he came out of nowhere. I barely knew him and Tony didn't know him at all, but he had just split up with his slightly nutty girlfriend, and been forced to move back in with his parents, which was driving him slowly crazy. He had heard (and I'm still not sure where from, but my guess would be either Dan or my Mum) that we were looking for a housemate, and he wanted in. For our part, Jon was way more outgoing than either of us, and we figured this was a good thing, as we needed a little dragging to get out of our shells so to speak.

So this was the second house we viewed, we all fell in love with it instantly, and after the viewing was done, went to the pub next door, had several drinks each and we were united over beer that the house must be ours. Fast forward a month, with credit checks done, and we all moved in on August 1st 2004. Jon was to share the house with us for the next eleven months, before moving out at the end of June 2005 to share a flat with his then girlfriend Lorraine.

So what can I say about Jon? Well he is slightly shorter than me, and a couple years older. He shaves his head, cos he looks odd with long hair. He is a divorcee with two great kids (Bethany and Joseph), who stayed over at the house a few times, and who I actually got on with.

He loves movies (though he has a habit of falling asleep during even the most action packed of films, a habit that drove me barmy), and will watch pretty much any genre, even horror (Lorraine's influence) which frankly terrifies him. I have never seen a man so wide-eyed as when Jon got back from watching The Grudge. I got him to take notice of American TV too, weening him on shows like the new Battlestar Galactica and Firefly, and he is now a big fan of the series Charmed. Jon is also a lifelong fan of Doctor Who, and can relate the most obscure facts about the characters, monsters, plots etc.

Bread and ham are not safe around Jon, this man can put away sandwiches like nothing else. I have seen him devour almost an entire loaf of bread in one sitting before now, each slice barely smeared with margarine and then a slice of freshly cut ham (no pre-pack stuff, he likes to buy from the Deli counter) slapped between them. Despite this voracious appetite, Jon is probably the leanest bloke I have ever seen. I genuinely envy him his physique.

He can also be pretty anal about tidiness, which led to a few clashes with Tony and myself, as we are considerably more laid back. Still he had his influence on us, and us on him. My regular sales on ebay, selling all the old comics and toys and books I no longer want, are in part inspired by his more minimalist lifestyle (when he moved in here, he had no furniture). He is a amateur photographer (he took his own photo for this entry), though he has not been practicing that hobby as much as he'd like too (I'm still hoping to see those pics of me you shot someday Jon!).