Saturday, 29 September 2007
Thursday, 27 September 2007
Monday, 24 September 2007
Saturday, 22 September 2007
Thursday, 20 September 2007
Today, as part of my job and not for fun, I had to visit an old peoples home. One of those ones with tiny one bedroom flats and a warden. It wasn't one I'd visited before but when I got there I realised basically they are all the same.
They all have:
- A buzzer for the warden who is never on duty.
- A policy of not letting anyone in the building unless supervised by the warden who is ..............
- A system for numbering the apartments which makes no sense to anyone under 65.
- A trick door that leads you outside before you want to leave.
- An alarm system consisting of red strings and buttons which you can only push/pull in an extreme emergency as this contacts the warden who is..............
- Someone cooking cabbage, this must be part of the lease. When you sign up you are put on the cabbage boiling rota. Failure to comply will mean no fish supper in the common room and confiscation of your bingo crayon.
But this one was different from all the others I've ever seen. Different in a big way! Different because this one had a lime green carpet. A lime green carpet and burgundy coloured banisters! Why? Because they are old so it doesn't matter? Because Peter Stringfellow returned it for a softer shag so they had some spare? Because the decorator was colourblind and he thought it was blue and beige?
Whatever the reason when you are old never, ever buy lime green carpets and paint your walls burgundy it really doesn't go!!
Tuesday, 18 September 2007
Sunday, 16 September 2007
Anyway, back to the novel! About four years ago I started writing a story with hopes of grandeur. It was going to be a bestseller and made into a film, I had even decided who was going to play the leads in Hollywood. Anyway this story has come out of my drawer at irregular intervals every since and it's still no nearer becoming a Blockbuster. I really can't get up any enthusiasm to finish it, I think this may be because all the time it's not finished I can daydream about it being a success but when it's done the bubble will burst! DJ keeps trying to get me to finish it as I know the ending and won't spill the beans. I think this is probably a bit selfish of me as she has read the 30,000 odd words I have written and has been left in limbo.
'Is there a point to this blog?' I hear you ask. Well yes actually there is DJ suggested start another blog and post a chapter a week of my story to give me the impetus to get it finished. If you fancy a read you can find it here E-Male and I'll post every Monday.
Finally; if Hugh Grant and Reese Witherspoon still read my blog make sure to keep your diary's free for the end of next year because I might be giving you a call!!
Tuesday, 11 September 2007
This is me if I was a book apparently! I do take exception to the short bit as I am well over 6 foot! Can't disagree much about the other bits though!
by Elie Wiesel
You've had some truly horrific experiences, especially recently, and
you can barely stand to discuss them. While many people are afraid of getting close to
you because of this, it has also built a fascination and admiration of you that is hard
to rival. You know that things are about to get better soon, but that the trauma will be
impossible to forget. You are short, but powerful.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
Sunday, 9 September 2007
Here you go mommies - a different kind of survey for a change - it's all about your first born! (Daddies can do it too)
1. Were you married at the time? No.
2. What were your reactions? Freaked.
3. How old were you? 26
4. How did you find out you were pregnant? I think it was a stork!
5. Who did you tell first? No idea!
6. Did you want to find out the sex? No, we already had the sex this was the by-product!
7. Due date? Yes there was bound to be one!
8.Did you deliver early or late? Exactly on the date! I am a postman after all!
9. Did you have morning sickness? No but for every day since!
10. What did you crave? Beer.
11. Who irritated you the most? Everybody.
12. What was your first child's sex? A fumble in the bike shed I think?
13. How many pounds did you gain throughout the pregnancy? Nothing, I spent a bloody fortune!
14. Did you have any complications during your pregnancy? Sleeping with a fat fidget?
15.Where did you give birth? At the hospital!
16. How many hours were you in labor? I only voted labour ( you missed the u) once!
17.Who drove you to the hospital? Someone should have driven me?
18.Who watched? It wasn't the Discovery Channel you know!
19.Was it natural or c-section? It all seemed very un-natural so must have been a c-section?
20.Did you take medicine to ease the pain? No! I was numb from the alcohol
21.How much did your child weigh? What? Pik and Mix at Woolworths?
22.Did your child have any complications? Crying, shitting and puking!
23.What did you name him/her? You had a him/her?
24. How old is your first born today? 17
25. Where does he/she live? In the bedroom!
26.Does he/she have children? Fuck, I hope not!
As you can see I don't really remember much about this traumatic time!!
Saturday, 8 September 2007
The last post I wrote (which seemed so popular) was the dream I had the previous night. It ended when I woke in a cold sweat not sure if I had an hour to live, it was that real!
On a lighter note; I was out delivering early today and had to knock the door of one of my first drops with a parcel. It was about 7:10 when I lent on the doorbell and not expecting an answer I went next door and delivered their mail. When I got back the door was opened by an elderly, sleepy looking man in his pyjamas. It was then I realized the doorbell was stuck on and had been ‘ding-donging’ for the best part of two minutes. The old boy looked at me, looked at the parcel, looked at the doorbell, ran his fingers through his hair then let out the loudest fart I’ve ever heard!
I handed him his mail and the parcel at the same time trying not to laugh while apologizing. I left him shaking his head and poking his bell (not a good look) and went on my way with a spring in my step. Being easily pleased things like this make getting out of bed worthwhile!
Thursday, 6 September 2007
He looked around, that was a feat in itself. The room was as dark as night but he could see, his eyes being able to penetrate the blackness. It was as if he was wearing a miner’s helmet with the light on the top piercing the dark. He felt his head, as if to check for the helmet, there was none, but he already knew that.
He was standing in aisle of what appeared, at first glance to be a warehouse, in between two rows of racking. The racking was built out of a thick angle-iron and was battleship grey. Its shelves looked like they were made from scaffold boards neatly buffered together. The shelves were so deep he couldn’t see the back and went so high he couldn’t see the top and, they were empty. The floor was hard and cold. He knew it was black marble even though he couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see his feet either they were covered in what appeared to be a rolling mist. It reminded him of dry ice at a Motorhead concert only this was a dirty grey and felt heavy on his toes.
He reached out to touch the shelves and although they we close he couldn’t reach them. He walked towards them but they got no closer, he didn’t know why he’d bothered because he already knew this as well.
He shuddered again! He didn’t know why or how he knew all this stuff, he just did. Also, he wasn’t alone!
There were people shuffling past him all the time searching for a way out but resigned to the fact there was none. They were all different; young and old, male and female, black and white but all with one common denominator, a black sack. Well that’s what it looked like, a black sack tied with a thick rope thrown over their shoulder and dragged behind them as they moved along. He knew it wasn’t a black sack and he knew what it was though he tried not to think about it. He wouldn’t even look behind him to see if his was there, he knew it was.
Something appeared out of the darkness and stopped next to a shuffling figure. He couldn’t describe it! He could look at it, stare into its eyes, but couldn’t remember a thing about it when he looked away. It had with it a box. The box was transparent but he never looked in it, he was transfixed on the rainbow of colored lights flashing around the top. It spoke to the person who nodded then stepped slowly into the box. As they did so they left behind the ‘black sack’ which in turn dispersed into the misty floor.
He watched as it approached other people who in turn nodded stepped into the box leaving behind their ‘black sacks’. Then it approached him, inviting him to enter the box, he shook his head, it nodded and walked away towards the next person. He let out a sigh of relief but soon it was back inviting him again.
“No thanks!” he said.
It looked at him and shook its head.
“You’re wasting time; you need to get into the box.”
“What time?” he asked already knowing the answer.
“You have an hour to say your goodbyes and now you are wasting time, your time.” It said with no emotion.
“You aren’t death! Death has a cloak and a scythe but you…….” He didn’t finish his sentence because in his heart he knew and started to step into the box.
Tuesday, 4 September 2007
Saturday, 1 September 2007
You hear phrases like: everything happens for a reason, what will be will be and for every action there is a reaction. So, if you do something are you responsible for what happens to others?
e.g. Every morning when I drive to work I get to the bottom of my road, turn right and head on over the hill. If on Monday instead of turning right I turn left and use a different route and there is a crash on the bridge. A five car pile up, the third car is where my car would have been if I'd taken my usual route. The car is crushed and the driver is dead! Is that my fault? Am I responsible for his death and the repercussions for his family or would it have happened anyway? Karma?