Well well well

It is a boring saturday morning, i'm on the mac, sitting on the nice sofa, with the blackslatefireplaceandgreentiles wondering when my mum and dad are going to go out so I can watch Shameless.

What to do tonight? I was going to go to an irish dance type thing but can't now, as I have no-one to go with. Then I find out that my other mates from home are going out, but I didn't hear about it until last night, and still I hadn't been invited. Do I sound like a college student with no friends? Yes! I shouldn't be bothered really but I am. Mind you i'm going to London next weekend, and i've got a pretty busy schedule from Sunday evening to Wednesday evening so i'm looking forward to that. The dreaded Monday area meeting of course, which stirrs up sickness and foreboding in the stomach, but you get a free school dinner so it's not all bad.

Anyway i'll get going cause I am going to have a bet on the geegees today (not to be confused with the high pitched singing of the BeeGees) and hopefully win some money, but more likely just spend some quality time with my Grandparents.

"And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am." John 14.3

You know, this is probably the hardest blog to write. When you carry on with your own life, hating it, moaning about it, wishing you were someone, somewhere else, then someone else is losing theirs, then loses it. How we all get too selfish about stuff, when really we should all become a little more grateful for what we have; to see our friends and family enjoy their life, and for us to enjoy it too - that's what's important. Not whether you've lost your car parking space or misplaced your keys, or hate your job.

Prayer is good, i've found, for bringing us back to reality. I don't pray for God to change things automatically. If people do that then they will lose faith because what they pray for (world peace, someone to be saved from death, an extension on their coursework) will probably never happen, then they'll lose faith. Instead, pray for strength, pray for the holy spirit to work within those people, to nourish them, to energise them, to make them not feel lonely.

Sorry this is getting a bit religious now and again, but these are my passions; music, nature, religion, poetry...I shouldn't apologise. I don't want people to stop reading this JUST because it's religious. It's sad that I should think that but some people ARE like that.

I'm also feeling a little sick right now. Just a mixture of nice food, emotions, tiredness and over-thinking. Plus, everyone is out and i'm staying in to save up for next week and the week after! I suppose it should do me good.

Just remembered...

..
Bloody area meeting on Monday - can't wait for the trivial boredom that is. Talking about documents i'll never read, people i'll never meet.
"What's your opinion on?"

"Nothing! Fuck it! I don't care!" is what I want to say

"Well I believe we have to consider all the avenues before coming to a conclusion." I should say

"Sorry I haven't read the document." is what I normally say.

Then there's the civil social chat at lunchtime, which I hate getting involved in, because I couldn't spend social time with most of these people. I would rather talk about the documents that I haven't read.
"What are you doing at the weekend? Did you have a good one? Any future plans?"

"Sorry - didn't know you were my social worker AND a boss."

I treat everyone like a boss, just so I don't fuck up. I think someone's being nice to me, being a friend, then as soon as I be friendly, "cya later girls, how's it going? Did you get your kids sorted in the end?" They take it the wrong way. Email: "I do not think your language is appropriate...now bend over and let us fuck you with a stick of political correctness gone mad."

Station to Station

..

They probably all have to do their stint on the platform. You see some more there than others. It's always the grumpy old men when I get there though; times; the extremeties of the day.

Always a bit scared when the ticket person flips and zips down the aisle. I've had it a million times before:

"This ticket is not valid...mate!"

Sometimes I get a "Sir" but they're not normally that professional. They can behave how they want when a fare lister is involved. Once, I was frog-marched down to the excess fares office at Leicester. He told me what I told everyone, "it's an anomaly ticket, i'm from an un-manned station, it's not my fault....the dog ate it!!! ARGH!"

"Un-manned station?" What's that? It's not even a station, just a bus shelter on a strip of concrete in the middle of nowhere. Never seen a ticket man theres. Turns out a few train staff are from where I live, they hate the "station" too!

So, after a regorous negotiation i'm free, only to suffer the same fate at Leciester, and, unless the large Indian guy with the manic laugh is at the gate (he is my friend) then i'll get the same POW treatment.

Grassroots

So I was at this event tonight, where this priest chap was talking about his work in Zimbabwe. You may see him on the street and think "_________" because if you saw him on the street you wouldn't think anything, you'd just walk straight past him without thinking anything. We do it all the time; we ignore people, even people we know, we don't look at people, we don't acknowledge.

Now this guy turns out to be a bloody saint. Not a 'self-professed, look at me working for UNICEF in front of all the cameras and holding little babies' saint. A proper self-less, humble person who acts, not for himself, but for other people. He says he looks after children who are orphaned by AIDS...not single orphaned, but double, i.e both their parents have died. They have no-one anymore. So this charity takes care of them, looks after them, feeds, clothes, houses them and even pays for their medicine. Of course the moneys there. It won't always be, but for the most part we can say 'yes I donated, I helped.' But out of us, who could say that they cuddled that child when their Mum and Dad died? Who could say that we entered Zimbabwe knowing full well that if the government saw us then they would imprison us and kill us? Who could say that they eat with lepers and people with cholera? I can't. It would take a lot of courage to do that. I'm not sure if I'm spiritually strong enough to do that.

At mass at the weekend the priest said that faith wasn't some inward thing. Faith has to be outward looking, it has to work from inside to out, to be transformed into action.

I suppose what I witnessed tonight was the telling of faith. True Faith (NO NOT NEW ORDER!) of a real kind. The kind that isn't done through countless reading of religious texts and saying 'hmmmm but if we look at what Augustine was saying blah blah blah." It is grass roots, it is on the ground, with the poorest of the poor. We're not saying here that God hates the rich. God loves all of His children. Its just that the older rich children take more from the poorer children and so God, as the Mother is telling the rich off and giving back to the poor what is theirs. This is what the liberation theologians were all about. Even today this message is fresh, it's new, but it's the root, the first drop of water from the fountain of Christianity. This is how the Gospel speaks to us. It's a liberating set of books telling the life of a liberator. That liberator is Jesus Christ...he doesn't mince around in gold vestments saying lots of nice prayers with candles and incence and all that stuff. He gets his hands dirty, mucks in with the farmers, the cleaners, the builders, the carpenters, he isn't bothered where you're from, but he espeically sees the good in the outcasts of society.

A jealous monk sniffing drainpipes

That's me looking at some Roman ruins...some old fightin arena me thinks. I like it. Old being respected by new

Would Turner be proud?

Leaving Leicester through the arse-end this evening, the Victorian factories stood beside the pre-fab and 21st century glass and steel. There was this yard with loads of yellow skips piled high. Old cranes lay in gravel yards, dying. Graffitied walls bordered it all. Made me think, "how many men had it taken to make this landscape?" "How many wives had cooked dinners that lay cold on kitchen tables whilst their men worked in the sod and shit and thick black rain to create this?"

I was crossing through history and we never appreciate it. We read our spreadsheets and drink our lattes, talk to colleagues and eat bacon butties, but outside there's a world, a landscape, a changing planet, it's all fluxed up out there

Yours sincerely, not me

Well it's been an up-and-down couple of days.

I'm just not feeling myself right now. There are words inside but they just don't want to come out.

It's just one bad thing after another. Can't go into it, don't want to go into it.

You know, being a happy jokey, walking, talking, jumping, smirking, laughing dancing chancing guy I find it frustrating when i just want a few quiet moments. If i'm not joking in a meeting, or not shouting my mouth off when out then people think something is wrong. 9 times out of 10 they probably are right.

Saw this poster on a bus shelter last night:

The fact is, I AM tired of putting on that same brave face. There's no cancer involved here, but that really sums it all up right now. I love my job but it's boring sometimes, there's not enough hours, not enough money, I want to get out, I'm going to get tied down. I need to escape. The more I escape the more I realise that I actually want to be there. My mates at home are good. I love them, I respect them, I enjoy going out, having a laugh, blah blah blah, but I need to escape the town, the house, the way of boring life. Not that Leeds wouldn't have its boring bits, but it'd be a new start, a fresh beginning.

Depression is an over-used condition, though sometimes I do get depressed. I haven't felt this bad in a while. There's no 'pulling yourself together'...that just ain't working right now. Probably doesn't help that i'm skint, overweight, underpaid, no car, stuck.

I suppose i should ride out the storm and see where I go!

Swimming

Well for the first time back in the pool I had a bloody good sesh today. I dragged mesen outta bed at half 7...a little late for a change. Then got changed and jumped in the pool. It was full of old men and women. They say they go swimming in the morning but all they do is stand around getting in your way and nattering, then they go for two lengths and get out. They're all on a sky high pension, fuel allowance and get free swims and they use it it to sub-aqua-chat. Not that i'm bitter.

Well i'm back at home, stinking of chlorine and feeling really good but bloody shattered.

Here Comes the Sun

..

The houses were only just waking up as we rudely interrupted their sleep. This old train may start at a snail's pace, but when it gets going, that engine really roars. The British Rail Class 43 (cheers Brian...the nicotine train manager) These trains are flat, green, spacious and great for relaxing, but when they power through at 100mph all H E Bates Romanticism goes out of the window.

For the last few mornings the sun has been an electrifying orange. I can feel it - spring is coming!

Last night as I lay in my bed I felt totally at ease. I slipped into a sleep that soothed and, just as I began dreaming, the light came on, "GET UP, TIME FOR WORK!"I hate that initial moment. But, as I write this, still with a sleepy head, and joints that haven't been fully stretched, I realise that if I would have remained in that cocoon of dreams and rest then I would have missed the Sun being born that morning, as it hides behind the thick morning cumulus clouds and mottled blue (W C Williams cheers) sky, to become fixed up there, as if it had never disappeared the afternoon prior.

It's been a while my dears...

Twas a cock fest on the train this morning. That could mean one of three things:

1. A festival of chickens
2. Men with their cocks out taking part in some bizarre ritual
   OR FOR THOSE OF YOU FAMILIAR WITH THE URBAN DICTIONARY
3. More men than women in one particular area.

Not that this is a bad thing. Blokes know how to communicate properly when there are no women around. We become our normal ignorant selfs. With women there's nearly always some tension involved. 68.9% of the time I don't feel comfortable in the presence of women. Sorry, it's just the case. Plus, when i'm doing my hawk-like scour of nosiness in the morning (after the inital sleepy lill where you realise that you can't sleep on a rickety train) women feel phased by this.

If music be the food of love

...then get stuck in

According to Yusef Islam(if you don't know who he is then you need a good wake-up) music helps to feed the soul. We need music for spiritual fulfilment and nourishment. On reason we sing hymns at church is to express our faith in another way. It offers something different and we remember the words more if we sing them to a tune, rather than mindlessly repeat them each week.

I think that listening to music for fulfilment is connected rather strongly to psychology. By listening to music at significant times of our lives we take a musical photograph where, when we next listen to that piece of music, we take ourselves back. They aren't as vivid as photographs - you aren't taken back immediately, but, with some recollection it does eventually work.

For example, Last Nite by the Strokes takes me back to the summers of 2001 and 2002, when they were reaching a more wider audience within the realms of indie/popular music. The album, Is This It, with the black glove on the ladies bare bottom, with a paper inner booklet rather than over produced glossy finish - i remembers it all like it wer yesterday - the heat of the sun, the drinking, the celebration. all good, all innocent, all exciting, all real.

I started singing a song from Oliver! the other day in my room. I played Mr Bumble in the Lionel Bart version of the Charles Dickens classic whilst at secondary school. It was a great role and relished one of the most famous lines of the play: "Mooooorrrrrrrrrreeee??????" Obviously it didn't have the high pitched wheeze of Harry Secombe but I made up for that with an equally comedic performance. Well, that's what I thought at the time.

Music takes me back to all different periods in my life. The first time I heard the Clash was when I went to a party and only put it on to impress a girl I quite fancied. A ll I will say now is that a few years down the line...married, three children and a massive house...is ain't what I has got.

Decals

Following the blog entry 'Just a T-Shirt' I have decided to upload the advert for Lick My Decals Off Baby:

This is proper serious dirty Beefheart. It's weird, it's genius, it's interesting and curious and just darn right amazing. I don't apologise if you don't like it..."you may think Im crazy but I want you to lick my decals off baby."

What does it mean? I think it's about getting rid of all the labels, the stereotypes and just going for the music pure and simple.

Loving it!

Saturday was St Commercial Day. I would say that though; I'm single and didn't get any cards ergo i'm also a bitter bastard.

Actually single people should be praying to St Raphael, as St Valentine is for already established couples.

I sat on the yellow bus and played, rhythmically with my phone, attempting to avoid the eye of an envious boyfriend as I caught sneaky glimpses of their very attractive girlfriends. A bottle of vodka later, and several goes on the Bullseye game and I wasn't bothered about pulling. It was all about my mates. We had a bloody good laugh, got drunk and a little dance.

Was in Stealth and saw this very shit drum and bass outfit. The guy had a wire around the side of his face that formed half a pair of glasses and a frame around his mouth...you had to be there. I was going to jump up on stage and do an Ian Curtis, but was warned not to by the angry crowd. Rescue Rooms - I would have been a hero. Stealth - I would have been a zero.

We left, got some more beers and cooked some packet pasta. Played some xbox and went to bed. It wasn't an amazing night, but, cause we just ignored the valentines shizzle and got on with the job of getting pissed then it turned into a pretty pretty pretty good one.

Desperately seeking someone? Nah not really...if it comes along then i'll go for it, but it's about enjoying life, not getting confused by trivialities. The map is a bit faded but never lost sight of the goal.

Fight the 'good' fight?

__

I'm currently reading a book by Stephen Bates, God's Own Country: Religion and Politics in the USA and it is very interesting. Faith is a rather tricky subject. I find it fascinating but extremely tiresome too. There's always the same arguments being bounded about.

Take Richard Dawkins for example, he is an atheist. No ordinary atheist though. He goes on telly, writes books, gets into peoples faces and generously forces his opinion on others. He is what I call, a militant atheist. So therefore, in that respect, he is arguing against great strength with great strength. His belief is in nihilo. Christians believe that God created ex nihilo. But, this aside, whilst Dawkins fervently argues against the faith that corrupts: That is, religious fundamentalism, he is a fundamentally an atheist, does not offer others to give their view point and shouts down any that do as idiocy, immature and uneducated. There are a great many respectable atheists who do not force their faith on others, just as there are many Christians, Muslims, Hindus etc that do not force their belief on others.

And then he thought it a good idea to say there was no God on the side of buses. Now there are some Christians who believe that they should preach the word of God in public, through shouting in the street, 'healing' people, writing it on posters and generally making nuisances of themselves. Why is this ok? It's not. Get fundamentalist faith off the streets. Instead, we should be Christians in how we behave, how we act towards other people. You can't say 'I went to war because God told me' or 'well, when it comes to the war in Iraq, I will be judged in Heaven' (Messrs Bush and Blair resp.) Don't use your faith as an excuse. With Dawkins; just because you are an atheist and you think faith is silly doesn't mean that everyone else that has faith is silly. 'God doesn't exist so get on with your lives.' Whether I am against or for the statement is not the case here; it is that the statement has a public platform. Get on with your life Dicky, and don't bother anyone else.

From experience, I have found that as soon as someone knows you are a Christian, they set to prove you wrong, they want to trip you up, like when Satan tested Christ in the desert. The secret is not to fall into the trap. When we constantly question everything in life, we lose out on the meaning, we think there is a motive to everything.

Don't go forcing your faith on others. They won't like you for it. If people want God in their life then He will come to them. If they call He will answer. If people aren't bothered in God then leave them to it - they will still be happy. We all believe in something, whether it is God, another god or deity, a prophet, a messenger or even nothing.

Is Beauty really Truth?

..
As another fellow blogger has recently remarked, in a tone usually taken by my Grandma, "the days are getting lighter." Indeed the mornings are brighter - this morning there's a reassuring plethora of pastels above Meadow Lane. The morning is cold, bitter, unforgiving, yet, the world seems brighter. Maybe it's the music I'm listening to, the hot tea I'm slurping at through the plastic cover, the thought of the weekend, or maybe it's just because the sun is starting to shine!!!

Passing through Radcliffe Power Station, the sun glanced the side of the towers, the steam and smoke plumes a-wake and rest neatly in the sky. I think that's beautiful - industry amongst nature - how it all has its place.

Now, my town has its nice places, good views etc but I cannot appreciate them anymore. I associate them with a lot of negativity ergo they are not beautiful to me anymore. You move away for a few years then return, and you love it. Someone grew up in London and they beg and yearn for the country, and vice versa. Say you grew up in Liverpool. A beautiful city, especially in the Summer. The way the Mersey lights up the city with the glimmering sun dancing over the waves, the architecture, the heritage then you move away.

You go to Sheffield or Manchester or Nottingham to Uni, and you dig that place for a few years. But when you return home you appreciate it - your parents, your town, the way each street has its own smell. Don't tell me Billy Wordsworth didn't pine for the city sometimes - he loved London,

"The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,

Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie

Open unto the fields, and to the sky;

All bright and glittering in the smokeless air."

That really is taking the piss though...London has never been like that..."smokeless air"? But, each to their own I suppose. He probably yearned for London if it was THAT good, especially on his walks around the Lakes with Dorothy, "Fuck me Dozzer...I only want to read a good broadsheet and score some quality Opium...Coleridge knows a bloke down Fleet Street."

I want to escape all this hideousness - get to the countryside, another town, city, country, and live, breathe, walk, run and dive in, then come back home at weekends.

Loving the alien

Can't read this? Be creative!

These relationship things get going so quickly don't they?

The amazingly fucked up thing for me is that the girls see me as a friend. Fuck Friendship. She told me someone had invited her for a drink and I didn't reply. She knew. I never say anything. I'm rather quiet. I'm repressive, silent, that's why these words are loud and I'm bitter inside.

Asking a bird out now is like filling out a job application. Emailing birds because they have things in common with you:

• You both like felines
• You both have never been married

I pay good money for that...pathetic! I pay money to feel shit, to be rejected, to say, yeah I like cinema, found Cuckoo's nest very sad but no date thanks...good luck. Good luck? Am I jumping out of a plan? Is this Nam at My Lai?

I'm good at this, shit at that, what's my best feature, what do you like doing in your spare time? Fuck me you don't have to come out with these things on a Saturday night at City. It's all 'I like Jimi Hendrix too - lets go back to yours!'

My soul is open on there. So many pictures that someone could go up to me in the middle of the street and tell me what I do, how many pets I have, my ideal places abroad, but no, I don't want to go on a date with you.

and another thing...

i see lots of these ere blogs have fancy pictures, daubings, drawings, embedded youtube vids but I don't know how to do these.

I'm in it for the words.

If I can find out how to edit my blog so that I keep it my own but make it a little more exciting than my real life then I will go through the process. Just so ya know

the link from FB is coming off soon cause I think i'm going to get a little more outspoken

Reading into it...

..

I sometime think that, after comparing myself to famous folks of my age, that I have failed so I become depressed, sad, errant.

Michael Owen was earning BIG bucks, so too was Beckham at 22. No doubt Kevin Spacey was appearing on stage in front of vast numbers of people and Oscar Wilde was being his usual over-the-top-and-still-being-beautiful self. Course, not a COMPLETE cross section and so my faith is restored. Monet was a post-humous success. Others of particular note are:

• Emily Dickinson
• Van Gogh
• J S Bach
• James Dean
• Billy Holiday

So I suppose I shouldn't feel downhearted. I'm at that crossroads now and I probably won't know if I did the right thing until when I get to the end of the road, look back over the journey and either think 'oh fuck - look what I missed out on' or 'wow I've not done bad for myself!' I do hope it's the latter. Oh and Jesus didn't start his ministry until about 30 so I have a few more years to really make an impact!

Surrounded by piles of books by young poets. I've still got 6 years on Armitage but erm erm erm the words don't come out as well as I would like 'em too!

Public libraries are grand. They bring books to the masses. The weirdos, the smellies, the wanderers and the homeless come for the books. I'm probably a mixture of all those types. The chattering ladies behind the counter tell the old men to shush!!! Their page turning is too much for the women, as they slurp hot coffee and crunch noisy parkin. I have always wondered how Mp3 people can listen to their music in the library, force EVERYONE else to listen to it and then read...or at least look like they are very convincingly.

Then there's distractions outside of the library. With beautiful buildings from the third floor up, green domes, chiseled statues and capitals, stone pillars sheltering pigeons from the rain, plus lots of other architectural beauties I don't know the name for. The buses go by so much you don't notice. The chavs and birds shit everywhere.

I just wish they would all go away and let me read my Viz in peace!

Trains, seat gains and traffic lanes!

I think I have spent an enormous amount of time looking at people on trains.



Ever seen a pretty girl get on, only for her face to be restricted by a dirty head rest or an even dirtier old man? The perfectly combed and trimmed eyebrows means that there's a 98% chance of her being a stunner.

Now don't go writing to the Police or National Rail saying that there's a stalker on its trains bewtween Langley Mill and Leicester. That would be darned foolish!



Train carry thousands of people to work each day - they continue on their linear route but people will get on and off. Such a variety of journeys and a variety of weather conditions calls for a variety of passengers, ergo, there's bound to be a few lookers in amongst the lot.



Trains are friendlier than the tubes. When I is working trying to save the world I have to visit our head office down in Landan (London in a stereotypical southern accent) probably twice a month on average. You can't look at people on the tubes, no swearing, no smiling. They've only just allowed breathing on there!



The trains encourage a smile now and again. You HAVE to talk to the conductor. I once offered a seat to a lady on the Tube and she glared at me along with the rest of the carriage. I kept my seat. Her name was Rose Parks.
Who does this Northerner think he is? They all thought

Well I's a Midlander actually, my good man, but I don't speak Brummy - it's a large area...like the south and I KNOW you don't all speak like you were born within the bells of St Mary-le-Bow.

Take the following as an example: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Ac8KL838jw&feature=related

JUST a T-Shirt?

..
..
A freezing morning today however one chap in his luminous pink jacket was displaying a Clash T-shirt...that classic London Calling album nicked off of Elvis. Now you wear this kind of t-shirt (think black cheap t-shirt with a perfectly square transfer of an 'iconic' album on the front) to either:

1. Show you were there at the time and/ or you genuinely like them
   OR
2. You're just conforming with the rest of the show off brigade and wearing an oconic album t-shirt for the sake of it.

This guy had some years on me, and I can imagine him banging his head to Rudie Can't Fail whilst nursing a pint of foamy nut brown ale in his one bedroomed granny flat near Heanor Market...for this reason alone I will let him off.

Now i am a strong believer in the idea that all music is opinion. If lots of people like the music then the more established the opinion becomes. However, this aside...if someone can justify liking a Phil Collins song (exc. Sussudio and In The Air Tonight) then I probably will like you less for it...not that you should like certain music to gain approval from certain people. That's what these t-shirts do; they encourage you to think..."ahh he likes the Clash, like me, and like Mark Radcliffe, and Brad Pitt and so I think he's quite cool." And if you see the Humph (Lyttleton) you'll think "yeah he was a nice chap," but if you realise he rocked out to Clash City Rockers then no doubt you'll think, "wow, what a cool bloke that Humph was."

---

Not sure if you've ever done this but...I once asked someone what they thought of Beefheart. They replied "yeah his Trout Mask Replica album was pretty weird."
"Well, yes, it was," I reply, "but what about Decals or Spotlight?"
"Eh?!" He is confused.

You see, people will listen to the most famous album of an artist and they think that's it...they can like them. Sure you can, but when you actually get talking about the musician and their life you can't sum up the whole of their career in one album. If they based their whole opinion of Dylan on Self Portrait then they'd come away thinking, "Dylan...rubbish!"

I was asked a girl at 6th form college what she thought of the Beach Boys. I expected her to name some of the surfin songs but she just said, "erm well Good Vibrations is cool." Oh
I then asked her what she thought of Pet Sounds. She said she had never heard of it.
Now I think that college is an excellent time to listen to music you have never listened to before, so when someone asks you 'have you heard Pet Sounds' and they reply 'no' then that's ok.
So I lent her my copy. Two months later she hands it back to me with a cracked case, saying she didn't get time to play it. Now that IS a piss take!

That musical journey is long and you never stop listening to music. But just because you have listened to Trout Mask Replica by Beefheart doesn't mean you stop there. You go deeper and listen to Mirror Man in the dark early in the morning, or drive with Crazy Little Thing blasting out to rush hour commuters.

Rant over.

Peace

Twittering on

I don't know what it is, I don't know how it works, but all i know is that everyone is talking about Twitter. Do you just follow people round via noticeboards? Do you send messages of support and then that's it? If someone knows then write it on a postcard, wipe your arse with it and send it to the Queen. This boy aint giving no shizzle!

I had a delightful journey home this evening. I ran my socks off up Syston high street to get the train and I felt tired but good afterwards...specially as the train was just pulling in. I was like in an American movie and it all went my way. Then I got to Nottingham station and all the new signs were pointing the wrong way. If I get another bloody Japanese tourist asking me where the trams are!!! I told a steward and he seemed disinterested, as I guessed.

Tea was grand - a pork dinner with sweet red cabbage and
home made stuffing balls.

I has got this crackin poem i'll plaster on this ere wall for your reading pleasures tomorrow night.

Been reading about the Pope and how he's sort of cocked up this excommunication thingy. Here's what's happened for yous that don't know: This English Bishop (Williamson) is part of this conservative French Catholic group that believe women shouldn't be allowed to go to Uni and all that weird stuff (another Bishop from this group said that Hurricane Katrina was an attack against the most sinful state in the US and it was God angry at them, so he washed away abortion clinics, nightclubs and gay bars) well he said that no Jews were killed in the Holocaust. The Pope has lifted the ban of excommunication on him without knowing he was a Holocaust denier.

Big Big Big implications for Catholic Jewish dialogue...it's like Regensberg all over again but, cause it's not Muslims this time, it won't get featured in the news so much.

I'll keep that religion lark out of this ere blog from now on.

A footnote of clarification: for an excellent set of articles on this current issue, please get a copy of this week's Tablet Magazine with an excellent article from Ed Kessler

Ice is nice...not

Woke up this morning (Dis ain't no song from A3 though!)

I slipped about this morning. From leaving the car, to tip-toe-ing over the crunchy morning offerring, to hauling my overlarded body up the steps, dancing from one train to the other, jumping off, skidding down the ramp, up the solid black roads, on to the bus, off the bus and down the alley, across the bridge, up past the posh houses then up the path across the field which is where I gone done and worked.

I hate walking on ice. For one, I am a very unstable person. Secondly I seem to slip over easily. Thirdly I have no confidence when the ground is uneven or untrustworthy beneath me. Shoes need to be solid, stable, like the foundations of a house, or a good economic policy. Rollarskates are awful to me...broken wrist at Derby Rollerworld to the tune of Happy Days. I still reel in pain and discomfort when I hear that tune...plus...a man in a leather jacket taking other men into his toilet that also happens to be his office? Fonz...Winklett (yes I know his name is Winkler but I though i would call him that cause it scans well)...yous got some explainin to do boi!!!

I I I I I always start with I...eye must be egocentric or summot like dat. Aye used to like signing my name and initialling things. It proved too much in the end though - I ended up owing a lot of money to people through the Fun Bank cheques I continually did wrote out like.

At work now, it's cold and quiet...like the heart, not mine though. Mine is warm, like Spring (Love Unlimited 1973 cheers!) and I feel sort of melancholic. Pathetic fallacy I expect. Never really known how to use that term other than randomly in a sentence with no subject.

This has been a good'un methinks. Hoping to address you goodly citizens soon with some Bard like poetry, barred from poetry houses and coffee shops this world over.

Also, wells dones duns, to me old Mate, Mater some might say, Tommy Holgate. He's running, cycling, dancing, prancing, chancing romancing...oohh come on and hold me tight (oops) for Great Ormond Street so go and sponsor him http://www.justgiving.com/tommyholgate He's a grand chap, nice lad, great hat, sound socks, rainbow coloured box-o-tricks.

Peace

And the Word was Wow!

Ever read Kerouac? If not then you should!

He's wild, fresh, alive. Like sticking your head out of the car when you're a child...dangerous, you know you shouldn't, but it feels great. You can't breathe cause of all the fresh air filling your body. It's too much. Our bodies are meant to take on that much are they? They can't be. They tell us it's bad for us but it makes us stronger. Nietsche and all that shizzle.

We don't say YES anymore. It's always "maybe later", "Can't be bothered", "erm I don't think so." When do we ever say fuck to society, fuck to the future, fuck the world, the system...

"YES YES YES!"

We think we crave shit...yeah course we do. A dabble here, a dabble there, cans, bottles, crates of beer. But then what do we need to bring us back? More cider? More whisky? More Gin? Naaahhhh...we need Orange juice, water, salads, oil, fresh air...natural, earth, real stuff.

What's better? Watching a football match on the tele in a sweating room, stifled by the gas fire or watching it in the Main Stand, the fans, the shouts, the grass, the passion, the air?

Wow...we don't love life as much as we should...say wow more, sing more, dance more, be a good person and enjoy yourself!

Bus trip outta town

For the first time in three days I found myself on the bus. Well, I didn't really...I made a conscious effort to get there and knew I was going on the bus. But, in a way, I suppose I found myself.

This gorgeous girl stepped on. She was pretty, long blonde hair, obviously classy dresser, a little beret type hat...she was gorgeous...core Jesus!

Driving through those white fields I really felt as if I was running away. The sun reflected off the ground and it was very bright. The bus had massive windows and I felt free.

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My job took me to a school in Derby today. May fold under questioning That's not too far away from the truth. We waited for half an hour in reception, no cuppa to keep us warm. It was good to catch up with my boss..I had missed work this week actually! I had to speak to over 200 students...it was a tough gig. Everyone was tired and I couldn't get my words out. Some of them were talking under muffled scarves, others just didn't give a shit. Well guess what kiddie-winkles...I don't give a shit either!

Change? Routine...ah that's better

I opened my dirty curtains this morning. Those curtains have framed some of the most amazing mornings, evening and afternoons. This morning they framed a cold dull blueish garden with a thick dusting of clear white snow. It was very special as I realised that I didn't have to wait at that horrible train platform to get to work. (More of trains and train poems later - they are a big part of my working life.)

I was excited, so much so that I couldn't get back into bed. I ran down stairs at once, like a child n Christmas Day, but, instead of piles of presents, I just found a yoghurt in the fridge and boiled the milk for my cereal.

Life, at the moment, is all routine. To borrow the words from the Cartwright classic, Road, "I just wish something different would happen for a change."

It's not as if I HATE my life. Hate is a strong word and, although I may use it frequently, I very rarely mean it. My parents are laboriously boring at times and I just get so fed up with how I know they'll react. Waves of negativity fill my optimistic bedroom most mornings.

Yours, respectfully, J D