Is Cola Worse For You Than Beer?

So I have given up alcohol. But what are you supposed to drink when at the pub watching sport?

I tried Coke. 3 pints of coke is a bad idea. Sugar high, the shakes, having to get off the train halfway home to take advantage of the wonderfully clean facilities at New Cross train station...

Surely that's worse than the effect of 3 pints of beer on my system?

I guess I could try fruit juice. In an ideal world every pub would serve tea of course...

Why Do The British Swear So Much?

A generalisation to be sure, but my language always takes a turn for the foul when I'm here, and it's down to Londoners.

I am now attempting to use different (non-swear words) in place of their more obscene brethren.

For example, the f word is making way for fudge.

But this brings up another question. Isn't the meaning behing the word more important than the word itself? Just because I'm saying fudge, doesn't mean I don't mean f***. Surely given time and a growing use of fudge in this context, fudge itself would become a swearword. I'm getting confused...

Why Would You Voluntarily Worsen The Taste Of Your Beer!?

Seriously people, stop putting fruit in beer. Please, it's not hot here and there isn't an amazing fly problem to contend with. And even if there was, you're not supposed to stick a whole bloody fruit in there! It just makes it taste crappy.

Why Does The Underground Shut?

Why does the underground shut? Does it save vast sums of money? Is it single handedly making London 'green'? Is it preventing crime? What?

I just see it as a pain in the arse. But at least cabs are reasonable... WRONG. I was quoted £110 to get home yesterday. I've FLOWN TO POLAND for less than that. Does the trip come with inclusive Champagne and a 3 course meal? At least heated massage seats though right? No. Just a trip with a driver who excels in inane conversation and doesn't know where he's going. I'll keep the cash thanks.

So I'll take 2 buses and then walk for an hour. A 4 hour trip. Thanks London, you've been a wonderful place to live, really. I wouldn't prefer to be anywhere in the world.

Why Can't My Imagination Stop Working?

Nothing like presenting a completely opposed view the very next day. There are some times when you just want to relax or SLEEP. At these times it would be nice if my brain would please switch off.

Not totally, I still need to breathe and stuff, but some sort of imagination switch which I could turn to off would be delightful.

Or at least the ability to control what I think about. And that goes double for my stupid subconscious. Dreams about something different every now and then might be nice. Or maybe dreams I can't remember at all, that also works.

Why Can't My Imagination Work Any Place, Anytime?

This is another post that somehow didn't get published on time. This is the last and is from January. And since January, the situation has improved somewhat. I'll add how at the end.

It seems odd to me that the only creative moments I ever seem to have occur in just two places. When I'm in bed trying to sleep or in the bath. Why is that? If I sit at a desk or a computer and try to think of things, I have nothing. But difting off to sleep or sitting in water sans notepaper are apparently the best times for my brain to get creative.

And then what happens? I lose half of it through sleepiness or forgetfulness.

The situation has improved by me taking obvious, practical steps. I take paper to the bath and force myself awake from sleep. Easy as that. Still a pain in the arse though.

Can I Have My Post Back?

So this originally was a post (no pun intended, for once) back on the 13th of December, and for some reason it didn't get delivered on time (that one I meant). So here it is, from the annals of history...

Royal Mail - crap. Over the years, an alarmingly high proportion of my mail has vanished. Most of it sent from local areas too. I've missed out on Christmas cards, bills and I'm sure a plethora of fascinating junk mail.

And yet, if someone sends me something from across the continent, or from an entirely different one, I always seem to get it. Is it given priority? Should I send all my mail via Africa, just to be sure?

Is there a maverick postman/woman or two that's robbing my stuff? If so, can I have it back?

Shouldn't You Tell Me?

Yes folks, I have finally fallen into a life of substance abuse...

Not really, I had an MMR jab this week, honest. Apparently everyone needs two and I only had the one. When I spoke to the receptionist at my local GP's, she was in agreement an booked me in for an appointment.

Then when I turned up it took five attempts at explaining the situation to the nurse. And even when she finally gave me the shot, I still don't think she knew why she was doing it. But my problem isn't that she was making sure I needed it, my problem is this: why didn't THEY tell me I needed it?

They have my medical records, so they should know right? When it comes to contagious stuff, shouldn't you be notified when you need a shot? What if plague makes a comeback, are they gonna wait for every individual person to think, hold up, do I need a shot for this? Because most people [me obviously included] don't know squat about medicine.

Will A Rowing Machine Help Me Play Football?

I bloody hope so. I'm in England and it's March, so it's cold and wet and miserable outside. Also, people are rubbish. Thus, exercise needs to happen inside. Also, for free. So the rowing machine it is.

Will it help me run for longer on the football pitch? I bloody hope so yet a further time! Last time I played footie I almost collapsed after an hour. An hour! Used to be I could run all day.

Damn memories of youth fading into obscurity. Stupid aging process. But I'm accumulating experience and knowledge right? Right!?

Am I Ginger?

Yes I am. There are probably not all that many people who will argue that they are, but I am one of them.

There have been a couple of doubts cast on my hair colour recently, with words like "brown" being thrown about recklessly. Then I mentioned it to Mumsie and her response was essentially, "You're not as ginger as me."

Ouch.

The fuzz were the first to question it. A couple of years back I got stopped and searched, by a highly pleasant and professional officer at Tower Hill tube station. It was only an hour or so later, when looking at the form he gave me that I realised he had put my hair colour down as brown. Brown! Outrageous.

There are 2 reasons I am talking about this. Firstly, I am bloody ginger! And secondly, I reckon the colour of my hair has made quite an impact on my life, and I'm reluctant to lose it. Having red hair makes you less likely to take offence, because if you did, you'd always be annoyed, and as far as I can tell, it's made me a lot more likely to resort to humour. So I wouldn't be half as funny if it wasn't for the ginger gene...