Things I Done On My Holidays

I’ve been using up spare “vacation days” for the last week or so and had great plans to write something on this site every day so you could see what a full and rewarding life I lead. Mind you, I also had great plans to put the finishing décor touches to my underground bunker before the world ends in financial armageddon but it turns out that tiger cub-skin toilet covers are really hard to come by this time of year. Sh#t, I forgot to check eBay.

Anyway, succinctness (iticity?) is going to be the order of the day – what with the world’s big red digital clock counting mercilessly down – so rather than endless paragraphs of fluffy prose, here’s my update in efficient list format, without the usual bullet points and ruler-measured spacing, but utilising a clever Number Technique* instead.

10.5 – Number of days since I’ve been in the office.
1 – Number of funerals of old High School friends I attended.
5 – Ryder Cup points deficit for Europe. Congratulations to the Americans.
15 – Variety of sweet and savoury junk food on offer at Blousie’s flat during climatic Ryder Cup Singles climax.
7,000 – Number of yards I covered playing golf and football on Monday.
6 – Number of yards I could stagger in one go before falling over on Tuesday morning.
4 – Number of shots I had in my Starbucks coffee on Tuesday afternoon.
7 – Number of hours I could’ve happily spent in Starbucks on Tuesday afternoon.
11 – Amplifier level achieved at band practice on Tuesday evening.
8 – Number of crunchin’ guitar solos I attempted at band practice when lead guitarist Billy Bob Hay was laid up in bed with the flu.
0 – Number of crunchin’ guitar solos I actually pulled off.
18 – Number of question marks and exclamation points used by my sassy sister-in-law when she asked if I’d recently had a sex change after I enquired whether new US television drama ‘Lipstick Jungle’ was something I should fit into my viewing schedule between facial moisturising and volunteering at the sanctuary for abandoned kittens.
5 – Number of strokes I was over par during a highly enjoyable round of golf at beautiful Glenbervie on Wednesday.
58 – Length of putt in feet holed by good pal Gordy on the 17th green on Wednesday to beat me 3&1.
3&1 – See above.
40 – Number of putts I took to complete the World’s Hardest Putting Green™, a new addition to my local driving range.
10 – Number of times I performed the “gerritrightupye” victory dance after beating my pal Bruce on the World’s Hardest Putting Green™ on Thursday.
5 – Number of eggs used in the World’s Greatest Breakfast™ on Friday morning.
3 – Number of valued and precious old friends I went drinking with in my old home town on Friday evening.
36 – Number of minutes it took for the subject of “testicle shaving; pros and cons” to come up in conversation on Friday evening. Closely followed by “When prostate checks go bad”. Whatever happened to “cars and girls”?
2 – Number of bionic knees now owned by my mother on her release from hospital this week. I say “released” but “vaulting to the car park from a second floor window in a single bound” is probably more accurate.
37 – Number of old photos I uploaded to The Signals (and A N Other) MySpace sites.
4 – Number of times I've enjoyed delicious ice cream this week. Sweet!
24 – Number of hours I stayed in my jammies today.
9 – Number of hours till I have to be back at work. F#ck!

*©WW

Something For The Weekend 43

Dear Dave,

As you well know, the only thing of any note happening this weekend that’s likely to distract our attention from the fact that our jobs are hanging by the thinnest of thin threads due to the financial markets going through something of an “adjustment” (©G Bush) is the 37th playing of The Ryder Cup. With any luck, by Sunday evening I’ll still be wearing my pyjamas (discarding them during the three days for only the most important of important “diversions”) and my living room will be a sea of pizza boxes and empty green Stella bottles as I celebrate yet another European victory over the Americans.

I don’t think I’m understating things when I say that the Americans really do deserve a beating this year. My keen analytic brain developed over a quarter of a century working in the financial world has worked out that they are squarely to blame for all this money mess after allowing some couple called Fannie and Freddie to run amok across the country, robbing banks wherever they went before making good their escape in beat-up old jalopies whilst wearing 1920s garb. Markets, financial, pulse, finger, me, what?

Anyway, my predictions for the next three days are as follows:

1. Europe will win 16-12.
2. Europe will win at least one of the sessions over the first two days by a whitewash. Or as it’s more commonly known these days, an “Edgewash”.
3. I will have a very happy weekend.

So buckle up Dave, it’s gonna be one hell of a ride. And no offence mate but…

My One And Only

People often ask me (and by ‘people’ I mean 'my mother'), “Hey Neil, what the hell’s going on with you these days that you never call and tell me if you’re seeing anyone or bring anyone over to visit so I can show them your baby photos and that lovely craftwork you made out of coloured string and nails in 1976 and tell them what a catch you are and how someday you’re gonna make me so proud when you finish inventing that.. um.. whachamacallit... internet thingy you’re always telling me about?” (My mum’s not big on the whole pausing-for-breath fad.)

Reading between the lines, I think she could be enquiring as to whether there might be a special someone in my life, someone for whom she will finally have the perfect excuse to go out and buy a new hat… y’know… in case they have a cold head. Or something.

Anyway, there are two very good reasons I never write about the special person in my life on this blog.

1. I’ve always firmly believed that all that ridiculous gushy-type stuff should remain strictly private, exchanged only between the two parties concerned in a loving and tender fashion, preferably in the form of a carefully worded email or similar medium that doesn’t involve eye contact. Or talking.

2. There hasn’t been anyone to write about…

…until now that is because let me tell you dear reader, things have changed and lately I’ve felt as giddy as a spring lamb on speed, barely able to keep a widening smile off my face, even when the big boys at work taunt me about my new glasses and flush my head down the pan in the first floor toilets by the science lab. The scamps.

It all seems like such a recent whirlwind but if the truth be told, I’ve had my eye on this special someone for some time, observing her from afar (100 feet if you comply with the strict definition of the so-called “restraining order”) and wondering if I’d ever have the nerve to make the first move and tell her how I really feel.

I’m lucky enough to be able to see her every day and I can feel my breath shortening at the same time as my stomach does its little “first flush” somersault whenever I get my initial glimpse of her each morning. She’s gorgeous of course, with curved features so perfect in all the right places that I can barely restrain myself from laying hands on her at every opportunity. When I do though, she responds to my gentle touch in a series of amazingly indescribable ways which are, frankly, amazing, if not easy to describe.

She’s so thoughtful and considerate too. Last Saturday afternoon for example, she was very understanding when I got a call to go out and play a league match for my golf club but we spent almost every other minute of the weekend conversing, opening up to each other and exchanging what we want from the relationship and I was so happy when she allowed me to cradle her in my arms for most of what was a very lazy Sunday. Bliss.

But it’s not all nicey-nicey Sunday-papers-in-bed-while-the-sticky-toffee-pudding-candles-glow-in-the-corner. She’s very open-minded and is letting me try things I’ve only heard about in unsubstantiated urban legends. Not only that but she’s allowed me to VIDEO TAPE us doing these things together. And not only not only that, but she’s also perfectly happy to let me share one those VIDEO TAPES with YOU. How good is THAT?

So here you go. Watch out for the grand opening where she makes her initial appearance in the guise of a famous film we both love. And hark at the jealous, stick-thin supermodels in the background as they enviously watch our rockin' performance. Although now that I’ve found my glasses, that might just be the ironing board. Oh and remember, the camera adds 10lbs!

Cue the 20th Century Fox logo… brrrum pum, brrrum pum, brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrum pum…

September? WTF?

God, where does the time go? One minute you’re on holiday with time to kill and the next you’re trying to persuade a special someone to let you put your ‘home movies’ on the internet. Fingers crossed (and otherwise) that there’ll be an update on that later in the week.

Meantime, for those of you who are still pissed off at me for making you wonder recently whether I was seriously ill, you can have a right good laugh at the photo below of me wearing my new glasses. Enjoy. While you can…












Oh that’s right, I forgot… you’ll have to find me on Facebook to see it.