Haloween Redux. Short and sweet

Things you SHOULDN’T do when answering the door to the average 7 year-old trick-or-treater

• ·         Ask the kid if they have a nut allergy then swap the Minstrels for Revels. Only a matter of time 
• ·         Invite them in and tell them how your life went wrong – a true horror story
• ·         Invite them in and tell them how their life WILL go wrong (see above)
• ·         Invite them in and convert them to paganism. They should practice what they preach
• ·         Invite them in
• ·         Only put blunt razor blades in their apples so they “get the message”
• ·         Ask for their phone number

God bless the Pagans

Typing in the dark is a painful process. I am not doing this in order to test my touch-typing skills (a test I would have roundly failed). This is the situation in which I find myself - cowering in my cave so the trick-or-treaters just keep on walking when they see that the lights are off. My foam roller has gone at the base of my living room door just to ensure no light from my laptop suggests proof of life. It is a feeling reminiscent of living in my former flat.

October 31st is a strange day. It is the birthday of greats such as Indira Ghandi, Lord of the Rings director Peter Jackson and, of course, romantic poet John Keats.

It is also the only day the mafioso influence is instilled in our children. In fact, the protection ring is encouraged by parents and the high-street. Kids go out and demand stuff. If they don't get it, you will pay.

The strangest thing of all is that parents endorse their children going out, on their own, in the dark, to ask strangers for sweets.

Now, back in my day you had to offer sweets to the kids to get them to 'talk' to you (Meowooaarrow. Charlie says... etc.). Another way was 'seeing puppies' or 'fixing a leaky tap'. Just so you know THESE ARE THE THINGS I WAS WARNED ABOUT. NOT WHAT I DID. OR DO.

In recent years there has been a massive wind change. The apparent over-protective nature of parents goes out of the window when you actually look at what happens. My entire (15 minute) journey home was absolutely peppered with teams of kids (most really young, most unescorted). Maybe people don't read the Daily Mail. Or they missed Gary Glitter's blog.

Like so much, maybe I just don't understand. Maybe, for some parents, the idea of free sweets outweighs the threat of paedophila. I'm just kidding. You're good people.

Wow. This entry went very differently to how I thought it would. I assumed I would be naming it "You Can't Libel The Dead" and revert to some puerile jokes about Saville and Jackson.

Don't worry. I'll try to make my next one funnier. Probably with bullet-points

Personal growth (epilogue)

How many unmitigated disasters are there really? Poll tax? Maybe. New Coke? Perhaps. The cream suits worn by Liverpool's 1996 FA cup final team? Definitely.

My interview can now go down in the annals (yes, 2 n's) of history as a genuine unmitigated disaster. I don't want to go into details but I left the feedback session today feeling as if I'd just been hit by the perfect storm of coughing fit and explosive diarrhoea -  wherever you stand you are going to get covered.

Needless to say I didn't get it but I always try to see the positives. After hosing myself down I can finally get a good nights' sleep and forget about it; vomiting is no longer my default stomach-state and the palpitations that dictated my breathing have been replaced by weary sighs. Nosebleeds continue.

I was thinking about drawing on some of the great literary and philosophical minds to console me. Surely Wilfred Owen has something from his war experience that can help. Shakespeare dealt with rejection on an act by act basis. Maybe Plato's Laches can offer me some perspective of true courage and nobility.

No. Right now the only sources I want to consult are the later films of Eddie Murphy. Just to remind me I used to be good and it all went wrong ending up with me sleeping with a Spice Girl (we've all done it).

It is good to have moments like this, when the wounds are still exposed and very raw. Maybe in a day or two I'll remember why.

   

Anatomy of a job interview

Things I probably shouldn’t have done in my interview:

• ·         Entered to Ravel’s Bolero
• ·         Immediately eaten all of the biscuits (there were 54)
• ·         Answered questions with questions. “Why do you think you would be right for this role? “ “Why do YOU think I would be right for this role?”
• ·         Picked up the interviewer on his grammar every time he used a preposition at the end of a sentence
• ·         Given a detailed analysis of how beating a hooker in Grand Theft Auto demonstrates the difference between waterfall and agile methodologies (Venn diagrams were included)
• ·         Asked the interviewer outside when I thought he said he did my mum (he actually asked what I did for fun)
• ·         Used interpretive dance for three of my answers
• ·         Recounted the story of how I lost my virginity without prompting
• ·         Used my Admiral Akbar impression in lieu of any qualifications
• ·         Spent the whole interview  trying to use the phrase “Banana Hammock” . And succeeding. Four times.

Personal Growth pt2

It is 10 o'clock and I want to throw up. The mighty Spurs have won (albeit unconvincingly) and this is genuinely the most nervous I have been since my last audition (14 years ago). There are many reasons why I KNOW I won't get the job.

An average heart-rate of about 95  (no joke) is not a good thing. I will walk into the office at about 3am and, by then, hopefully be a bit calmer (at that point I will have already done a 5 mile run. Seriously).

I will really not mind if I don't get the job. I just want to give a good account of myself. I feel more accountable to myself, and it is not often that I get this kind of 1 on 1 time with my bosses (well, time that isn't suffixed with a smart-arsed quip).

I DO look good in my suit, though.

Personal Growth

Although my supermarket shopping trips do seem like a random meander between aisles there is a definite logic and hierarchy in play. The hierarchy is as follows:

1. Bargains  
2. Cakes

That's it.

So when I walk past a cake display and a pack of 5 (yes, count 'em, 5) doughnuts are reduced to 16p well, that is like catnip to my kind. 

This is what has just occurred and I consider it an unequivocal victory that I walked past without even a closer inspection (although I did do a double take and parting was such sweet sorrow that I had to wipe a tear away with a nearby croissant).   

Now I am not on any kind of diet but I am definitely more aware of the stuff that goes into my gob. Exercise makes me feel good -- proper food allows me to exercise. Simple. 

I'd really love a doughnut right now.

Jeremy's Beardy-weard

This is the first time I've waged into the political forum on this blog but, well, here goes.

Russell Brand, this week, engaged in an interview with the mighty Paxman (famously the brother of the chief executive of the Dartmoor Preservation Association) on his role of political magazine guest-editor. It can be viewed here.

I'm struggling to disagree with Brand. Voter apathy is not because people don't care but because they feel so disenfranchised with the system that they see no point.

Anyhoo, Brand's political foray is not the reason for this post and, believe it or not, neither is Paxman's magnificent beard (some can pull it off, others cannot. Myself? I think I look good with at least some designer stubble. The point is that men should not listen to the women in their lives - as a semi-metrosexual man I can confirm that the beard is a good look).

I actually just wanted to point out that I think that Brand's frustration/anger at Paxman is misdirected. Paxman did his job perfectly. He unbiasedly, albeit in his inimitable obnoxious style that makes him so good, questioned Brand on the fundamental issues that anyone who wants to be taken seriously needs to be asked. Brand, enrapt by a combination of the hypnotic hirsute-ness of his "foe" and the reason for his own cause did not seem too see that the beard was tacitly agreeing with him.

Questions, of themselves, are not disagreement. Ever. I use the same methodology in my work. Questions only ever lead to self-examination, improvement and refinement. Once you can answer all of the questions that are, or can be, asked then your position (political or otherwise) becomes solid. How and Why are the two greatest words in the English language.

If Brand can answer those questions, he could change the world.

</political rant>
    

The Biggest Loser? Yes and no

Since I started running / exercising / increasing my usual daily activity (walking from sofa to toilet or kitchen) my intention has honestly never been weight loss. I still eat masses, especially pasta. In spirit, at least, I seem to be propping up the Italian economy single-handed.

However. The scales do not lie (although they may be misguided). This morning, for the first time in as long as I care to remember, I was officially under 200lbs. That's 14st 4 in english money or 90kg for, well, who uses kg? The french?

I've definitely had a recent burst of activity. An exercise dvd (bought literally 2 years ago and not viewed until this week) has been part of this and the main cause of my pain.

The workout dvd is from Jillian Michaels - the evil bint from The Biggest Loser USA - and she works you hard. Only 20 minutes but its a hard 20 minutes <insert inappropriate joke here>.

I never realised before that my (still) awesome rack could hurt as much as it does but it does. I've also spent half the week feeling as if my stomach is recovering from surgery. A line of pain from my ribs to my happy area has been an interesting experience.

My plan is to continue in my mass-eating, some-exercising
vein until I get to my "natural" weight. My guess, given my frame (big shoulders?) will be about 13st (182lbs, the french can work out the kg themselves).

Making distraction from what you should be doing even easier...

Apparently people can now get automatic updates when posts come out if they want them. Looking around this page, on the right hand side are buttons for RSS feeds, email notifications from Feederburn, Google + etc. Whatever is best for you.

You can leave comments, suggestions, notification of spelling mistaykes etc. and tell you can people you know about it. Probably best to stick to people you're not particularly fond of.

Alternatively, you could enter someone else's email address. It can be a great way to annoy your friends.

(Annoyed grunt)

Acchhh. I started this too late. It is now past 11 pm and I should be finishing the Horlicks, filling up the hottie bottie and taking the short trip up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire.

Playing with blog settings is not to be recommended as a late-night activity. RSS feeds? Search bars? Subscriptions? At this hour its all just a blur but the pretty pictures and flashy save icons make it like a 5p fruit machine at the end of the pier and I'm just a teenager mesmerised because the plums are held.  .

I suppose this is the kind of craic that accurately reflects the hedonistic, rock and roll and crystal meth-fuelled lifestyle I have now (apparently crystal meth is something people from New Mexico sprinkle on their doughnuts ). It makes me smile.

Contentment is a funny thing.

Time to check out the gun show

Light and shadows can be very flattering.

If a 6 word story paints a picture, and a picture says a thousand words....That's maths I can't even do

Another, more topical, 6-worder - practically handed to me by someone else (thank you):

Half! Done!

But I'm still running.

BMF 2013 - The difficult second album

First of all, scenes we’d like to see. I had rejected alternatives for the blog entry’s title:

·         Endurance is a funny thing. You have it…  until you don’t

·         When you are chasing an arse in front of you, it will only lead to heavy breathing

·         Hell is a frustrated P.E teacher at the top of a hill telling you to run faster

All true stories. There were many more x-rated lines I had but probably NSFW (unless you work for Jimmy Carr). 

2nd event and, the night before, I was starting to worry that the half marathon had lost it's thrill for me. 

Y'know - already had the achievement of doing one so can I be bothered? Training is fine up to the point that you have to do 13 miles. The sheen becomes distinctly opaque when you are trudging through mile 4 with a dodgy thigh feeling like you want to puke.

I am always happy to be wrong at times like these and the entire day was awesome.

Started early. I didn't actually realise until I got the race pack last week that it STARTED at 8am. I had previously arranged for moral, transport and piggyback support from Scott and the disappointment, when I told him of the start time, was palpable.

I stayed in Westbury, and got up at 4:30 after about 3 hrs sleep (always the way). I ate and we left just before 6.

The journey presented a genuine concern. The thick mist and cold conditions were a worry. At Salisbury (around 7am), the sky cleared. The heavens were presented and I knew it would be a beautiful day. 

We made it to Bournemouth footer ground in plenty of time and prepared where I experienced the most disturbing thing EVER!.

I've never been in a festival-style communal porta-urinal before but it is not something I want to experience again. In essence, if you are next in the queue, and someone in the middle finishes, you have to walk between 2 columns of people using a urinal! These are not wide. You are touching the backs(ides) of 6 or 7 people....Sorry I can't go on without dredging up bad memories.

There was still a chill in the air and was seriously considering wearing a t-shirt and jogging trousers. As opposed to the flimsy Team Dotty vest I had (which I’m still not sure if I have the body to pull off). My fears were unfounded and was very happy with my attire.

Anyhoo, I had a 4 or 5 metre warmup run and got in line.

We all got lucky. We sign up for a half marathon in October??? We deserve everything we get! The conditions were amazing.  Beautiful. It was an uplifting race for so many reasons. So many, in fact (considering I'm about ready for bed), I will bullet-point them for you:

•  My previous stop at the urinal-den left me unable to, erm, go. This was remedied at the first toilet stop (approx. 2 miles). I wasn’t the only one
• ·         My above stop at the urinal-den seemed to relax some things, erm, internally and so also had to stop at the second toilet stop (approx. 4 miles). This significantly lightened my load (pasta – gone; banana – gone)
• ·         It was at this point I started to regret my decision to wear white shorts due to potential stai…well, we’ll leave it there
• ·         During all this time the pack of fudge-banana energy bar I had taken just before I started was repeating on me and was seriously considering a tactical chunder. To my credit (I hope) I did not take this
• ·       I recovered from my need to throw up at about the 6-mile point. My thumb is testament to this (for some reason I gnaw the skin from my thumb when I want to vomit but actually shouldn’t )
• ·         Now here we have been trundling through the streets of Bournemouth. It is a truly beautiful blue-skied day. Even better, as virtually all of the run is, was downhill. Sweet
• ·        Boscombe Chine was a hill I never signed up for! In fact, no-one that I was around ran up it. Just think Bradford on Avon’s Mason Lane or Shaftesbury’s Gold Hill (the proper Hovis Hill) after having run 6 or so miles. In a different situation, at a different time, I may have different feelings for Boscombe Chine. It looks a lovely place to visit. But, for now, our love seems star-crossed.
• ·       There may have been a few thousand people participating (and some dodgy dogs)  but it was truly serene at the waterfront. I ran eyes-right or eyes-left (never forward) so I could see the vista. It is a truly wonderful place
• ·       Just a point of note. Does Bournemouth have a problem with medieval sex pests? I only ask because I kept seeing signs “stay away from the groynes”.
• ·       The piers were done ( the first seemed a sick joke because we knew how far the last was) and I found my kick with 800m to go
• ·       Medal received,  pack and tshirt got
• ·         Home

The final time was 2:26:32 and I finished 1889 out of 2857. Improvement  (definitely after the loo breaks).

I am pleased to tell you that, while I didn’t sustain any injuries (I strapped my ankle well), the most painful part of the entire process is NOW! Walking (obviously), standing, sitting, any down stairs (up are ok) give me a wonderful pain, akin to childbirth. Not in magnitude (probably) but in forgetfulness, when I’m lining up at the start for the next.

Next plans: This gave me a lot of confidence so I want to do one more half. I know I can nail a great time. I’ll do this after a proper training schedule and will be in about March. If anyone wants to join me they are more than welcome. Seriously.  If I (yes, 17 stone me) can do this after about 4 months work then anyone can. Give me a shout for anything.   

I just want to thank some people:

Scott, Emily from Dorothy House (my contact), everyone who has supported me & Team Dotty and, as ever, my parents. They are a large part of the reason I do anything .

Please keep supporting. As of tonight the donation is up to £140. Thank you all so very much. I cannot tell you how much it means to both me and them.

My just giving account is still open for a fantastic cause https://www.justgiving.com/Aaron-Gilbert1 and will continue to be.

You are all beautiful people.

X

Etymology

Just a quick note on the previous post. I'm pretty sure I've only ever read the word "chortle" in the Beano. And probably only in Lord Snooty strips. It DOES perfectly describe the noise truly posh people make when they snort and giggle at the same time.You know, people who have had to take a few whacks for reading The Independent (chortle, chortle).

Men's Health? Men's Un-health, more like (chortle, chortle)

I get a daily newsletter from Men's Health. It must be the U.S. branch that produces it and it is awesome.

Today's newsletter? The 11 worst burgers in America. You know it will be shocking and brilliant before you read it.

I'm up to number 3 (they always go in ascending order of number of calories) Weighing in with 1540 cals is Friendly's Grilled Cheese burger. Yes. It's exactly what it sounds like. A burger, and instead of a bun there are 2 cheese toasties. Even in my pomp as a Megatron I would never even consider this. Fusion food never got tougher than this (http://eatthis.menshealth.com/slide/3-worst-crazy-burger-creation).

In other, unrelated  news, I'm off to eat a massive steak pie. True story.

Send in the clowns? Already arrived, sir

Quizzes fool you into thinking you know things that you don't. Apparently Some Enchanted Evening is NOT a song in A Little Night Music (I think I was thinking of Send In The Clowns) and James Tiberius Cook discovered Australia (I may have made a mistake somewhere there).

Sondheim/Lerner & Lowe aside I did realise that my musical knowledge tekkers are still up to scratch and my memory of cartoon characters is still there (Ren and Stimpy, anyone? Happy happy joy joy).

Anyhoo. 7 points clear at half time only to come in 4th is nothing to be proud of. A poor 80s music round is to blame. Who are Kajagoogoo, anyway?

Apology

I apologise for a previous entry's title for two reasons.

1. I thought a google search of this would bring up the intended - It is a line in the T.S. Eliot poem "The Hollow Men". Beautiful. You should check it out. Apparently its the title of a novel set in Lucknow. I'm not saying I wouldn't reference this. Just not my intention.

2. The more I think about it the more of an innuendo it seems. Not an innuendo, not a broken column. My column works just fine (well it would if it was called into action).

Another 6 word shuffle...

Sun up.

He toiled.

Sun down.

Sunlight on a broken column

To paraphrase T.S. Eliot my birthdays often pass me by not with a bang but a whimper. I prefer it this way. A quiet pint with my bro and sharing a few cakes around the office suits me fine.I don't want to be reminded that 33 will be no more and 34 is the grim reality for the next 12 months.

I'm not complaining, really. I feel younger than I look and, according to a straw poll taken around the office I look younger than the average viewer of Blue Peter (is that even still on?).

What birthdays do do for me (heh heh. Do-do) is make me have a rethink. Check where I am in life and where I am going. It has been a tough 12 months. I've had to properly learn to cope without my mum (which has been tough). I've also managed to buy a house and run a half marathon when, at one point in the last year I was about 17 stone. So a lot of positives.

The next 12 months? Who knows? The usual hopes and dreams still apply. A genuine commitment to finding inappropriate material on the internet is always top priority. I want to make the "natural" progression from half to full marathon (the "" were used because there is absolutely NOTHING natural about running 26 miles). I want to improve my workrate  in 5 a side - I have no actual talent and my diminishing size is less of a hinderance to opponents than it was so I'll have to learn to mark and tackle again. I also want to put some proper moves on my career. There are some interesting roles coming up that are worth a look. I've been there 6 years (!) now. Time to show what I can do!!!

And I still hope for that elusive first reader of my blog.