Two fingers to the Inevitable

I have some bad news.

I did something today that is a sure sign that I am getting older.

This is not good news.

I think Peter Pan had it pretty good, (not even counting the fact that he could fly, which is beyond enviable) never growing up sounds like a plan to me.
You think you will be able to grow older and retain your own sense of style and 'cool' (aargh, look, I'm even putting 'cool' in inverted comma's like I don't want people to think I would use it in a normal sentence, that wouldn't have happened 5 years ago) and most importantly, you think you won't end up like your parents, but you can't fight it, and it will happen.

Today I was thinking about my job, which I don't really like all that much and I would certainly rather be doing something more interesting and less stressful with a little over one third of my daily life, and I was wondering how I could get out of it, fast.
When I say fast, I don't just mean handing my resignation in, thereby generating 'the fear' which should spur me on to finding another, more interesting job while I serve my notice, (I have already proved that this does not work. January was a very lean month for me) I mean finding something that would enable me to quit, right now, and never go back.

My hot theory was to win the lottery, a tactic that could be called chancy at the very best, but then I thought maybe I could win something a little smaller, perhaps with some slightly better odds. I mean £3,000,000 would certainly see me off the 9-5 wagon for life, but even 10 or 20 grand might be enough for me to invest in something else I could do with my life, and allow me to quit my job right this second.

'Why not buy a few scratch cards' says my brain in a Jeremy Clarkson style inside my head (blame Kitchentable for that one) 'Or maybe play that deal or no deal online game you keep seeing advertised at the bottom of the MSN window, that thing looks like you are practically guaranteed to win tens of thousands of pounds'.

Now, here comes the bad bit, the indicator of impending oldness, the sign of the cardigans to come, the precursor to spending all day remembering when all this was fields, Here is what I did.

I ignored the voice.

I bloody ignored it, I thought to myself (in my own voice, not that of Jeremy Clarkson, he would have been straight down the casino, flipping chips onto the baize with reckless abandon) 'Nah, that's a stupid idea, I'll never win anything, and I can't afford to waste money on gambling'.

I'm so angry with myself, it starts with dismissing plainly idiotic ideas like trying to solve my financial problems by joining an online poker tournament, but who knows where it will end?

I might decide it is OK to think things like:

'No I can't possibly have a drink now, it's not even 10 a.m.'

or perhaps:

'this cartoon is rubbish, I wonder if the news is on'

or, no, it could never happen:

'yes, comfort is more important than performance when it comes to choosing a car'


Badly thought out actions are practically the essence of being young, I really don't want to lose that part of me.
Right, what's the address of that deal or no deal website...

Recommended viewing

On Friday, I went to see Hayseed Dixie live at the Brook in Southampton.

Think Banjos, think Dungarees, think inordinately large pork chop sideburns, (which I kind of liked come to think of it) and then chuck in covers of songs as varied as 'Highway to Hell' and 'I Don't Feel Like Dancing' and you are pretty much there.
I've never seen anyone play a stringed instrument so fast, the guys on the banjo and the mandolin were incredible, it was really impressive stuff, not to mention a really good laugh.

I had an awesome time, me, the lovely Rachel (who is still incredibly lovely by the way) and Jeff managed to get right up to the front of the stage, where we hoed down with the best of them.
I don't think I have ever found a justifiable reason to use this phrase before, but I can truly say I had a rootin' tootin' time. Hehehe.

I had a quick look at their website and they are only doing a couple more dates in the UK, like today and tomorrow and then that's it I think, but you should at least try and hear some of their music, it's great. There are a couple of videos on their site, go have a look.

Shameless plug, job done.

I'm tired

Really, really tired.

Moving is hard work, there is to be no discussion on the subject.

We are moving!

By 'we' I mean the company I work for, not the royal 'we', that would just be odd, i'm more bottom of the class than upper class.

Anyway, we are moving to a lovely big new unit just up the road, and it's all going on this weekend. I have taken two long-wheelbase-transit loads of stuff to the new place already today, and I just munched my way through a man sized BLT sarnie to keep my manly moving strength up.
I feel a bit sick now, i'm more of a little and often guy when it comes to food.

It's a sweaty business this moving lark, more so on a commercial scale 'cos there is so much to move, I'm thinking of stripping down to the vest and subtly flexing my muscles when I lift stuff. "hhhrrnnggh, sorry? oh, yeah, i do work out, suprised you noticed" *shy smile*

I'm so vain.

Up the literary ladder?

I'm trying to write a book!

I don't know if I mentioned this before but (like almost everyone else in the known world) I have always wanted to write a book, and the difference between me and possibly 90% of the people who share this aim, I actually have half a chapter all done and everything.

The possible difference between me and the other 10% is that they actually finished the book.

The aforementioned half-chapter, or chapette, did take aproximately 3 years to write, but hey, who's counting right? At this rate I could still publish a short story in time to supplement my state pension.

I am definately picking up pace, I reckon with some good sessions at the keyboard I could get to a whole chapter by christmas, new year at the very latest. I'm sure as I generate more of the book, the enthusiasm to finish it will grow, right?

Anyway, that's all good, I may put it up on here, or link it or something for you to peruse when I have grown my chapette into a fully housetrained, pedigree chapter.

Tim news: After a week of startling neglect, one of his leaves turned brown and fell off. No more chillies have appeared, but his dirt never seems to go dry, even if I don't water him for, oh, say, about a week.
I realised that the window he is next to gets approximately 0 hours of direct sunlight a day, due to the house next door and the big tree in their garden, this may well have been putting a bit of a stopper on any plans Tim had for photosynthesis and the growth of any more chillies for me to eat.

I have moved him to a sunnier shelf.

I've been working

far too hard.
I've done an extra days worth of overtime this week already, I can't say no 'cos I could do with the cash but it's not something I want to end up doing forever.
I wish I was allergic to stress so I could get a doctor's note advising that I do nothing more mentally strenuous than, say, peeling carrots, but alas, I just really really hate it, which doesn't count as a medical condition, apparently.

I've never wanted to go to work less than I do at the moment.

Pants.

On a lighter note, erm.... No, I've got nothing. Rubbish.

I kind of forgot about Tim (my new adopted Chili plant) for a day and half, rushed back to check on him when I realised how neglectful I had been, and when I got to the bookshelf where I had left him, he was fine!

This growing lark is easy, you couldn't get away with that with an adopted child. (And you definately can't eat bits of your children, I really can't stress this enough.)

Foiled

By my own enthusiasm. Damn.

I've been getting all excited about my blog again, hence the existence of some actual posts for once, mostly due to enviously reading Kitchentable's
page every day and attempting to be even half as prolific, interesting and jaw achingly funny.

So I have been back on my super geeky statistics page thingy which tells me how many people have been viewing me (my page, no voyeurism involved) along with a massive amount of other useless information.
I was really pleased to find out that yesterday I had a whole 7 (that's no typo, just 7, yes I am that unpopular) separate views, which is about 40% up on my usual highest daily views! (40% sounds better than 3)

They love me, they really l- oh, hang on.
I posted twice yesterday, which involves typing in my blog address, and then I looked at my blog to check for any comments, which also involves typing in my blog address. Dammit, there's my three extra hits then.

So the only fact I can glean from my super duper statistics reports is that I am around 40% more obsessed with myself than usual.

Sounds about right.

Typical

I just thought up a decent topic for a post, which I could have put in my 50th post instead of that load of warbly codswallop I wrote, ah well.

I have a Chili Plant!

His name is Tim, he's a Habanero chili plant (I think)

Ok, ok I didn't tend Tim and nurture him lovingly from a tiny seedling to it's present fruit-bearing, green-leaved glory, I got him for free.

Still, it's like adoption, you end up with a child, but you don't have to go through all that nasty night feedings and nappy changing bit, you can skip straight to the living vicariously through them and trying to control their life part.

I am planning on eating the chillies from Tim, I wouldn't recommend carrying the simile back across to the adoption world, seriously, don't eat any part of your children, adopted or not.

I'll put up a picture of Tim soon as.

Milestones already...

Well look at that, I've made it to 50 whole posts, who would've thought.

Actually, I would have thought.
I would have done it long before now, it has taken 9 months after all, but then you can't just churn them out and skimp on the quality.

It's been surprisingly hard to come up with decent topics sometimes, which I will use as my excuse for such intermittent posts, and also the reason I am blathering now about posting 50 times instead of talking about something interesting. Oops.

Well long live the blog, and I just hope the next 50 are vaguely interesting, for your sakes, mostly.