I've found my home

just in case

One of Spike Milligan's last wishes was the epitaph on his headstone. He didn't get his wish exactly, it wasn't written in English, it was written in Gaelic:

Duirt me leat go raibh me breoite

Which translates as:

I told you I was ill

According to Fox 6 News (your station for balanced news), three weeks ago, there were reported cases of salmonella in San Diego.This was news that I ignored and treated with contempt at the time. The reason? Tomatoes! According to Fox 6 (balanced) News, the outbreak had been traced to tomatoes. Now I had one major difficulty with this (apart from the obvious statement that the newscasters can't pronounce the word tomato! It's tom-ah-toe not to-may-toe), I lived through BSE scares (mad cow to you) and Edwina Curry telling me that I could eat an egg...so long as I boiled it for six hours and then finished it off in a microwave. I know, know for a fact, that you can only get salmonella from eggs and chicken. Those fools at Fox 6 (balanced) News know nothing! They are just scaremongering. You cannot, categorically cannot get salmonella from a tom-ah-toe!

Fools!

Except...it appears you can. Bugger!How stupid do I feel? Well, normally, I would have said, not very stupid because obviously I haven't made a thing about this at all. I mean, I wouldn't have been at a Souplantation two weeks ago, talking in a very loud voice, demanding tom-ah-toes, criticising Americans for being frightened of fruit (it's a fruit donchu'no). No, if I was the sort of person who stood around the salad bar explaining I'm more worried about my prostrate [sic] (they're really good for your prostrate, I've heard, and at my age I have to think about things like that) than catching salmonella which is impossible to get from a TOM-AH-TOE!

Thank goodness I am not that sort of person!

However, if I was that sort of person, I'd certainly feel a bit stupid and start listening to Fox 6 (balanced) News a little bit more carefully.

The weather has turned, actually the weather turned a couple of months ago, it is hot. The thermometer doesn't drop below 28 and spends most of its time hanging around the 34 mark with quick bursts towards the 40 mark. It's hot. There are solutions to this, of course. Most of these solutions involve nekkidness, fans on full blast, swearing sweating profusely, swearing profusely, opening all the windows/doors, and drinking copious amounts of liquids. There is one major drawback to these activities - and it isn't visiting the toilet regularly because the sweating tends to deal with the excess liquids - mosquitoes. All the windows have screens but our doors don't. This means that, during the day, mosquitoes come into the house, find a place to hide and sleep during the heat of the day, come out late at night, find themselves trapped in the flat, decide to punish their prison wardens. Every morning Maria and I wake up to discover that our my bodies body are is covered in mosquito bites (it should be made known that the only time Maria gets bitten is when I am out of the flat. If a mosquito has a choice between biting Maria or me, they pick me). A quick check of my body, as I type this, reveals 27 bites! (Oh, for those of you who are worrying about the nekkidness, I would never post nekkid - I feel that I am talking directly to you as I write and I would never talk to you nekkid, so I post clothed. You can relax.)

And now, finally, I arrive at the point of this post! According to Fox 6 (balanced) News there are recorded incidents of West Nile Virus. Here in California! Well, there in California! But California is exactly five miles over there, as the mosquito flies! The West Nile Virus, again according to Fox 6 (balanced) News, is carried by mosquitoes! I have been bitten by mosquitoes!! I could have West Nile Virus!!!

No, listen, I watched Fox 6 (balanced) News and they told me that the symptoms include:

fever, headache, weakness and drowsiness

That's me, that is. I'm really hot, I've got a bit of a headache, I am struggling to open bottles of coke, and I keep falling asleep in front of the tele! I've got West Nile Virus! The worst thing is that Maria, who is normally very loving and very caring, is convinced that I am making this up. She tells me that I don't have a fever, that it is just hot. I have a headache because I keep refusing to eat, moaning that "it's too hot to eat". I can't open coke bottles because I keep coating my hands with sunblock, paranoid that I will burn and die in the heat. And I keep falling asleep in front of the television because I always fall asleep in front of the television. Maria is convinced that I don't have West Nile Virus. Of course, she never gets bitten, so I don't think she is taking this seriously! And look what happened when I didn't take Fox 6 (balanced) News's Salmonella scare! I was wrong!!

This might be my last ever post. I feel a bit weak. I feel a bit drowsy. While I've been sat here, at the computer, for the last five hours, I can feel a headache coming on. And I think I might have a fever, I'm definitely hot and sweaty. I have West Nile Virus. I'm going to lie down. Bye.

about last night

You missed the moose.

I missed the moose?

You missed the moose.

What moose?

There was a moose outside the house last night.

There was a moose outside last night?

Yep. Last night. A moose. Outside. In the street.

There was a moose. Outside. In the street.

That's what I said.

Was it a sexy moose?

Strange question to ask.

This is a strange conversation.

True. Can't think of any conversation that has included a moose before.

So?

So?

So, was it a sexy moose?

It was wearing a kilt.

There was a moose, outside, wearing a kilt.

There was indeed.

Why was there a kilt-wearing moose outside in the street?

Come all the way from Canada.

Why was there a Canadian, kilt-wearing moose outside in the street?

It was following a mating call.

This is about my snoring again isn't it?

Maybe.....

an apology

I can't post. Tried to start three different posts and failed miserably. Can't get the sentences to join. Can't get an idea to flow. Can't express what I want.

I'm going to blame fatigue. The academic year finished yesterday. Last week was a long wind down from the Lion King, through graduation, academic post mortems, to a last day meeting. Last night I had a very enjoyable evening out in the company of friends - five hours that felt like one. Physically I just want to sleep, mentally I need to detox. Writing posts seems impossible.

Have read Housekeeping vs The Dirt (excellent) and Lucifer:Crux (so-so). Dipped into Engulfed in Flames (luvverly and funny). Tearing my way through The Yiddish Policeman's Union (genius).

Listening to the new Coldplay album (learning to love it) and rocking away to the new Weezer album (brilliant).

Seen WALL-E (fantastic) and Wanted (awful).

Worrying about the finalists of Hell's Kitchen and So You Think You Can Dance (I have become this shallow).

Started a new diet in order to control my IBS which has flared up again.

But most of all I need to sleep. I need to rest. I just don't have the words.

I am still alive, still happy, still madly in love, still in Mexico.

Regular service will be returned once I've recharged.

monopoly

When I was a kid, if I did something wrong, I was sent to my room.

This was a totally different punishment to "being grounded". When I was a kid, a long, long time ago, being sent to your room was a whole different ballgame to "being grounded". For starters I lived in the streets. When I was a child, paedophiles hadn't been invented. When I was a child: caring, loving parents would throw you out the door at 8am and not expect you back home until7pm. My mum would casually pack me sandwiches and a drink, tell me to be back by 7, then throw me out.

A day where I didn't collect 30+ miles, on my mile-o-meter that I had attached to my bike, would be considered a failure. There were dams to build in the woods. There were moors to be discovered. There were areas of Sheffield that were new to me. The only time my parents totally freaked was when I phoned (2p in a callbox) from Park Hill, casually mentioning that I was going to a fair.

Later in life, as a parent, once 24 hour news came about, I realised that you can never (never) let your children out the house, unless you drive them everywhere and tag them - else you will appear on the news as a bad parent. I also learned that sending your children to their room was not really a punishment. Children's rooms, these days, are full of computers, televisions, bloody everything - it isn't much of a punishment. But, back when I was a kid, my room was a punishment.

Except it wasn't. I had my books, my comics, my writing desk. I also had my brother. We had Lego (please note: in this blog the plural of Lego is Lego!), we had Action Men, we had Monopoly. Monopoly was our godsend. We would play games that lasted three days, we would play four games a day. There were weeks that I played 30/40 games of Monopoly (I was a naughty boy). I lived, breathed, devoured Monopoly. Later in life (sadly) I won a bet - could I name every single square on a Monopoly board? I was a god at Monopoly.

And then I played a game that included my dad.

We were on holiday, a caravan holiday, in the Lake District. It had rained for the first three days and it was raining on the fourth. Despite the rain we had still been on seven-hour forced marches during the day but at night, instead of playing football/cricket/rugby (we were a very active family, I now realise) we had been forced inside the carvan to play card games (by the age of eight I could card count - seriously, you wouldn't want to play whist with me). On day four my brother and I brought out the Monopoly board. My father said: No. We argued, we whined, we begged, we pleaded. He agreed, with one proviso, we would accept the outcome. He then proceeded to destroy the game of Monopoly for me and my brother. In under an hour he managed to suck any enjoyment of the game out of the game. He didn't dance, he didn't say: In your face, he didn't show any emotion. But, in under an hour, he totally and utterly dominated the game. We wanted to quit, he wouldn't let us. Another hour was spent being driven into bankruptcy and tears. I have never played Monopoly again.

It is now 35 years later.

I am old.

The children in my class have brought in a game of Monopoly. There is no money. There is no money because everyone playing is given a credit card. The credit card is placed into a calculator which adds/deducts money as they play the game. And there is something different about the board. There are no train stations - they are airports. The Water Board/Electric Company have become "Cell Phone" and "Internet" providers. But that isn't the worst thing.

To me.

The worst thing is that you get One Million for passing GO. One Million! One Million!! One Million for passing GO!!! Not two hundred pounds, one million somethings. I can accept that Old Kent Road isn't called Old Kent Road - what I have difficulty in accepting is that it doesn't cost forty pounds - it costs 6K.

When did I become so old? When did I become the man who rants at 12 year olds because they don't know what 6K means?  When did Monopoly become so, so, so...I don't know what?

When I was a child, many moons ago, my brother and I called the game Monotony. Now, the game is so hip-and-up-to-the-beat that I no longer recognise it.

I am old.

Still, it makes financial sense to buy the Oranges! Unless you are playing with my dad - that man could just tear you apart.

can't sleep

That wasn't our car alarm.

I know.

I'm sorry. Did I disturb you? Is that why you got out of bed?

No. I got out of bed because of the gunshots.

What gunshots?

Fifteen gunshots in ten seconds. Outside the flat. Just now. That's why the car alarm went off.

There wasn't any gunshots.

There was! That's why I got up. Did I wake you?

No. I was awake. I couldn't get to sleep. It's too hot. I can't get comfortable. I can't sleep. That's why I thought you got out of bed. I was moving around. Trying to find a cool spot in the bed.

I got out of bed because of the gunshots. You didn't hear them?

No.

You were asleep weren't you.

I wasn't. I can't sleep. I'm wide awake. Look! WIDE AWAKE! It's too hot.

But if you didn't hear the gunshots you must have been asleep. Think about it.

I was asleep wasn't I?

You were asleep. Now, go back to sleep.

I can't.

Why? Is it too hot? Do you want me to put the fan on?

I can't sleep because there were gunshots in the street.

But you didn't hear them. You were asleep.

Yes. But now you've told me I can't sleep.

Goodnight Will.

or you could just trim it

But let's say there's a bear.

Will, just trim it.

No, listen to me. There could be a bear.

A bear?

Yes, a bear. A bear loose in the streets of Tijuana.

Just trim it.

But what if there is a bear loose in the streets of Tijuana?

Why would there be a bear in Tijuana?

I dunno. But there could be.

What has a bear got to do with it anyway?

If there was a bear, loose, in the middle of the street, you'd be sorry.

Just trim the damn thing.

No. Say a bear had escaped from Jellystone Park.

Jellystone? You mean Yellowstone.

Do they have bears in Yellowstone Park?

Do they have bears in Jellystone Park?

DUH! Where do you thing Yogi and Boo Boo live?

Stop there. Stop there and trim it.

No, I'm being serious. Say Ranger Smith has banned pic-a-nic baskets from Jellystone Park. And say that this bear had heard the best tacos were in Tijuana. Well, he'd come here, wouldn't he? And, let's say that we were in the street when he arrived. Well, you'd run - wouldn't you?

Is this about the way I run now?

No. Yes. No. Sort of. Look, you always say that when you run it looks like you are being chased by a bear. Well, you don't!

Thanks.

You look like you've actually been caught and partially mauled by a bear.

You're now telling me that I run funny?

You're missing the point.

There's a point?

Yes. There's this bear in the middle of the street. A hungry bear. What would you do? You'd run. But he'd see you running and think: "There goes my lunch!" And I'd have to defend you.

You'd defend me? From a bear.

Of course! There is no way I'd let a bear get you!! I love you!!! And, and you smell wonderful. The bear would probably want to eat you because you smell so nice.

You are so sweet.

That's my point! The bear would want to get you and I'd have to defend you. So what I'd do is, I'd pull of my left shoe, pull of my left sock, and stab him with this toenail.

That toenail?

This one. On my middle toe.

It doesn't look very sharp. Not sharp enough to stab a bear anyway.

I could sharpen it!

Or you could just trim it?

Or I could just trim it I suppose.

Thank you.

Ha! You won't be saying thank you when you get chased by a bear down La Revolucion!

I'll take my chances with the bear. But for now, just trim the damn toenail will you.

posts I didn't write

Tee hee! Hi, my name's Will and I'm a bad blogger. Actually, I'm a much better blogger than you'd realise - I have written posts in the last week [checks list and discovers three drafts that haven't been finished], however, it has been one of those weeks that I just haven't got round to finishing a thought, never mind a post. So, here is a list of posts that I didn't write during the last seven days.

W*dnesd*y: Kids will drive us apart (to paraphrase Ian Curtis)

Thanks to the kids being with us our morning routine is destroyed. I don't get the opportunity to go back to bed in the morning, for that moment when I hold her, kiss her. This makes the rest of the day seem incredibly long. When I get home, at night in the afternoon, there is no chance to be alone with her. It is only when we finally get to shut the bedroom door that we are alone. I miss her so much during the day.

Thursday: Insanity is hereditary - it is passed from child to parent [sic]

I honestly believe that my IQ is falling. I have now watched more television in the past four days than in the previous four months. What is worse is that I am enjoying it. I am emotionally involved with the contestants on So You Think You Can Dance? I really wanted Vicki(? I just remember it began with a V - so maybe I'm not that involved)) eliminated from Hell's Kitchen but understood, totally, why Gordon Ramsey got rid of Bobby. I can't believe the idiocy of the contestants on Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader? And The Moment of Truth is just car-crash television! You know you should look away, you know that you should move on, but somehow you are drawn totally to watching the disaster enfold in front of your eyes.

Friday: Look what I got in the post

I got a CD from Alan! I also got two books (the next episode of Lucifer and another Nick Hornby article collection). But, I got a CD from Alan!! Isn't getting parcels in the post the bestest!!! Especially ones that you didn't order yourself.

Saturday: I think I'm going to explode

You know how after eating a Chinese meal you are supposed to be hungry 30 minutes later? I over ate! I'm not saying that I was a big, fat, bloated organism, laying around the flat - but three environmentalists tried to drag me back into the sea, to release me back into the wild.

Sunday: I miss my dad, I miss being a dad

Thank goodness I didn't finish this post! This was one of those very dark, very depressing posts. Luckily the day was saved from total disaster when I received a card from Dani. Sometimes you can't see the good things in life until they smack you in the face.

Monday: seriously, they are that enthused?

The tickets for the Lion King went on sale, at school, Saturday morning at 8:30am. That explains the the seven parents who slept overnight outside the school gates. That also explains the sixty-five parents who were already queueing at 5:51am. Do you start to feel that I might be under a little pressure?

Tuesday: no sleep 'til brooklyn (I think I've used this title before)

The email I got from La Directore at 9:45pm was enough to ensure that I didn't fall asleep until 1am. The power cut at 2am meant that I spent the rest of the night not sleeping, scared that I would not hear my watch alarm, my mobile alarm, because there was no CD alarm to wake me up.

So, there you go. Seven posts that I didn't write. Aren't you glad you didn't have to wade through that stream of unconsciousness this past seven days? And that is without talking about "national stupid driving day" or "the exhibition of cows". Anyhoo, gotta go. The kids have left which means that I should be spending time with Maria, not sitting at the computer. Mind you, it's too hot to do anything - so I might just lie on the sofa and watch television. Can't remember if it's So You Think You can Dance? or Hell's Kitchen tonight. But you can bet I'll be there whichever one it is!

the duck and parrot

My mum lives in the middle of nowhere. To be a little more precise, she lives near a Broad in Norfolk.

Mum: While I'm talking, I'm watching a duck on the roof of the house across the street.

This piece of information fascinates Maria. She is stunned that, quite regularly, ducks will waddle up the road from the Broad, and into my mum's garden. Real ducks! Real, alive ducks! Just wandering around the streets. She cannot believe that there are road signs, warning drivers that there might be ducks in the road. She finds it totally amazing that ducks exist in the wild.

Me: That's odd. While I'm talking, I'm watching a parrot sitting on the telephone pole across the street.

This piece of information fascinates my mother. She is stunned to hear that, quite regularly I can watch parrots fly overhead. Real parrots! Real, alive parrots! Just flying around, in the sky, without a care in the world. She cannot believe that everyone else hasn't stopped, in the street, to stare at the sight of a real live parrot on the telephone pole. She finds it totally amazing that parrots exist in the wild.

Actually, I'm with my mum on this one. I still stop and stare when I see parrots. Two days ago, during recess, I interrupted the kids while they were eating their lunch, to point out a humming bird. Yes! A real live humming bird. Just hovering around, moving in and out of the trees. And there was no David Attenborough sound track! Who would believe it? Well, to be honest, only me. The kids at school looked at the humming bird, looked at me, shook their heads in a (fairly) patronising way, and then carried on eating.

Mind you, they all stopped eating when I shouted: "Look! A duck!!"

it's great to be english

Incident One

Maria reads an email from Alan to me. She asks me what I had done to cause this consternation in Alan's life. I show her the email I had written Alan. She reads it.

Maria: So, let me get this straight. You wrote something thoughtless in your blog. Alan is worried that he has upset you. You then write to Alan apologising for upsetting him. He then writes to you apologising for making you feel that you have to apologise. You now want to write back apologising for making him feel like he should apologise for making you apologise? Of course, you know that this means that Alan would have to write a further email, apologising for making you apologise for making him apologise for making you apologise. Is that about it?

Me: Yeah. Sort of. Except, of course, if he writes apologising again, I'll have to write back apologising.

Maria: Run it past me again - how did the English manage to find time to build an Empire? I mean, once you invaded a country, didn't you just spend the whole time apologising for not wiping your feet when you stepped off the boats?

Incident Two

We park the car and head towards Vons (a supermarket). As usual there is a person stood outside the store with a clipboard. She approaches us.

Clipboard: Excuse me. Are you registered to vote?

Me: Yes. But not in this country.

Clipboard: Ooooo. Aren't you posh. What with your smoking and your English accent.

Incident Three

Maria is on the phone to her mother.

Mum: But how did you know? How could you know?

Maria: It's hard to explain. You have to know him.

Mum: Explain it. Try to explain it

Maria: He's too polite.

Mum: What do you mean: "He's too polite"?

Maria: It's just that, he's too polite. It is that simple.

Mum: You are telling me that the reason you knew he wasn't an internet axe muderer was because "he's too polite"?

Maria: That's it. It is as simple as that. He's too English to be an internet axe murderer. He's too polite. It would be too messy. It just wouldn't be "the done thing".

Incident Four

Maria: I told my mum that you were too polite to be an internet axe muderer.

Me: Uh-hmm.

Maria: I told her that it just wouldn't be the done thing.

Me: True. Too true. There is no way I'd be an axe murderer. An axe would be totally the wrong thing to use. Probably a hatchet. Yes, a hatchet. I mean, a machete would be too much for murdering with.

Maria: Exactly what I was telling my mum. There was no way you'd be an internet axe murderer. You're too English.

Me: Yep. I know which knife to use, which fork to use, and I sure as hell know what implement of death to use.

Maria: Yeah, that wasn't quite the angle I took with my mum. But, let's go with: "You're English"!

as the big J didn't say

Blessed are the meek geeks, for they shall inherit the earth.

We come out of Iron Man and Maria is ranting, ranting about this, that, the other and specifically ranting about "that old bloke - you know, the one in the cave with (the gorgeous)* Robert Downey at the beginning. WTF was that all about? It was so wrong, so very wrong, so unbelievably wrong! What were they thinking?" So, I told her. I told her how, unlike most super heroes, Iron Man didn't particularly have that driving force to do good - you know, like a dead mum/dad/planet/uncle - all he had was shrapnel in his heart. What he needed was a conscience. The old man was supposed to be his Jiminy Cricket. This then led to a fifteen minute lecture on Iron Man's history, his problems with alcohol, his problems with Jim Rhodes, his problems with The Armour Wars, his problems with super hero registration, his problems with erectile dysfunction (I made the last one up - but I want Maria to associate erectile dysfunction with Robert Downey...I can be that bitter).

At the end of my fifteen minute expose on the life and times of Iron Man, Maria commented that she didn't know I read Iron Man, was such a fan. I replied, I don't, I'm not. I'm a geek.

Say it loud, say it proud: I'm a geek!

For many years this was not a good thing to be, not a title that I would wear proudly. However, as much as I hate Vista, it is probably time to thank Bill Gates for allowing people like me to come out of our closet. You see, as much as Mr. Gates was probably the person "most likely to be smacked around at school", he has become a shining knight, an answer to all those put downs that geeks receive. Obviously no-one really wants to grow up a nerd**, but geeks are a whole different breed. Geeks can be cool. Geeks can get girls. And then there is the whole Trivial Pursuit phenomenon.

At first, when Trivial Pursuit hit the market, random knowledge wasn't that important. But, somehow, Trivial Pursuit built a totally different subculture that went onto to pervade the rest of society. Don't believe me? Think back to the early 1980s. A time before pub quizzes, a time before quiz shows with million pound prizes, a time when Ann Robinson was just an annoying git (oh, hang on, she still is!). However, the point I am trying to make (yes there is one), is that knowledge is good. Knowing stuff is cool. And it isn't knowing the intellectual stuff, it is knowing the pop culture stuff.

And then, yesterday, I heard the best news ever. While surfing through 100 television channels (and there was nothing on), I landed at VH1, where they were showing a clip. 'Twas Bow Wow Wow singing "I Want Candy". For no particular reason, I announced out loud:

You know, Bow Wow Wow are made up from the backing band for Adam and the Ants. Malcolm McLaren, once he'd lost The Sex Pistols, was brought in to help Adam and the Ants. His advice to the group was to ditch their lead singer, Adam Ant. He then took all the musicians, added a 14 year old girl that he'd found in a laundrette, and thus you have Bow Wow Wow. Of course, Adam Ant also went on to become a huge star in the UK. With a new band.

At that point, I turned and looked at Maria. There was a big grin on her face. Her eyes were shining. She told me that she loved me. I asked why? Thinking it might be my incredible charm, my good looks, my sexy hat that was perched jauntily (exceedingly jauntily) on my head. No, she informed me. It was none of those things.

It's because you don't have Alzheimer's.

It appears that a knowledge of trivial facts, the ability to recall those facts, is a good sign that I don't have Alzheimer's. You see, being a geek is a good thing. All that stuff packed inside my head is what is keeping me sane! One day, I will inherit the earth.

Of course, I'm not sure that I have got my head around the fact that Maria thinks I am a candidate for Alzheimer's. Is it 'cos I is old????

*she might not have actually said the gorgeous but it was implied - or inferred. Nope, think it was implied!!

**let's be totally clear about this. There is a world of difference between geeks and nerds. I am not a nerd!