Friday, March 8, 2024

Return to Stupid

 Bloody bloody bloody

Spending all my time in my man-cave, which is really just a grown-up version of a den.

Well, it's got all my stuff in here. I don't want to share what I watch with M&D and they wouldn't want to watch what I'm watching.

So here I remain, waiting for the day to go by. 

God - still only 1pm. I better go for a walk to town, sit in a cafe and get served by some passive aggressive child, and then come back again.

Did you know coffees cost £3-4 these days? Bloody outrageous.

Might as well stay in instead. You know, cut out the middle man.

Government handouts

My ESA payments have stopped. I now get paid NOTHEENG from the government. Yada. Nil. Zip.

I'm entitled to PIPs apparently. But only £60 a week. I have an ISA which is prohibiting any Universal Credit.

Weird being dependent. It seems 5 minutes ago I was raking in money by the thousand, and then it all stopped.

I was going to go out and do stuff, but my brain said no.

Bloody dole-dosser!

I have always avoided any form of permanent employment for this reason: my avid fear of being typecast. That's what I will tell them at the Labour Exchange.

Look at poor old Harry H Corbett or Bob Grant - highly-trained actors who ended up being cast as Steptoe and Jack respectively no matter what they were in. 

Poor dears.

Oh, and I also had a (late) tax return to do...which I tried and failed to do so I went back to my old accountants and they've done it and instead of the thousands I thought I would have to pay it's only a few hundred.

Trebles all round, as they say!

Dungeons and Dragons (i)

Yet they ran around, those characters, trying on necklaces and opening chests in the middle of corridors without a care or thought.

It's called Tomb of Annihilation FFS. Annihilation! And a whole tomb of it. Death, death and more death. 

'A tiptoe through Gaylord Gardens' it is not.

These days no one takes a hint. Many don't hear sarcasm either, which is really weird. I blame the Americanisation of everything.

I thought it would put the parents' minds at rest

Now I have to do some more forms shit for my Easter stint of DMing for kids.

If there's one thing I hate even more with FTD it's forms. I never had much of an attention span and now it's almost zilch. 

Boring shitty forms.

"I'm not a paedo! Your kids are safe - don't worry!" I will shout. 

And everyone will understand.

Dungeons and Dragons (ii)

My Thursday party all died. Yes. All of them. What's known in the trade as a TPK - Total Party Kill.

Honestly they should have listened to their mums.

'Why do you want to copy them?'
'Well if they all jumped off a cliff, would you?'

For essentially that's what happened. To be fair, everyone was tired and getting over colds. No one was at their best.

So we are continuing the last 3-4 sessions of this campaign in a metaverse where THIS NEVER HAPPENED.

They owe me. Oh yes. 

THEY OWE ME.

Tiswas or Swap Shop?

Back in the late 70s early 80s, on a Saturday morning kids had a choice: proper BBC teacher-controlled, parentally-approved BBC or...I.....T....V.....

Now there was a whole punk movement in its prime at this point. And while many of the punk groups weren't played on Top of The Pops because they weren't deemed appropriate, the punk thing was all around. The older kids were all punks, and it was cool.

A lot of middle classed kids weren't allowed to watch ITV. Back then there were only 3 channels in the UK - BBC1, 2 and ITV. 

In answer to BBC's dominance with Swap Shop, ITV decided to go national with a programme that was broadcast only in the midlands on ATV. And Tiswas was it.

Hosted by Chris Tarrant (I know), it had John Gorman from The Scaffold, Bob Carolgees and Spit the Dog (a punk dog ventriloquism act) and Lenny Henry and Frank Carson. 

Everyone got custard pies from the Phantom Flan Flinger, including ALL the guests. 

It was the right programme at the right time - punk TV for kids - total anarchy and mayhem.

But the main reason mine and probably most other dads watched was the lovely Sally James.

Ah. Sally James, Sally James, Sally James...

Wondered why Dad liked Tiswas so much

She was a trained actor, and actually a really good presenter. You could phone in and get your names put on her garters. She could cope really well with stoned rock stars and shy kids all the while having buckets of water thrown over her.

She would dress up as a St Trinian's schoolgirl in stockings, and also came in as Miss Whiplash once. She was always wearing denim waistcoats with nothing underneath so she could do a quick change between commercial breaks as everyone got gunged.


                                                           Proper children's entertainment

Frequent guests were Bernard Manning, Big Daddy and Jim Davison. There was a bloke who would guest occasionally called Norman Collier who had 2 acts, one was where he impersonated a chicken, and the other was his broken mike act which we all started doing in the playground. 

I watched it again and by today's standards it...isn't very good or politically appropriate.

Ah, the 1970s. Where sexist and racist comedians were the staple of Light Entertainment, and also hosted kids' TV. Stan Boardman AND Mike 'This is not a wig' Reid on Runaround.

But Sally James though, eh?

Marvellous.

Facebook Community Sites

A crew is filming in Wells - rumour has it for the sequel to Wolf Hall. The farmer who lets us walk our dogs in his fields has rented part of the field out for the film crew - a large marquee and facilities are stored there.

The Cathedral and Bishop's Palace are being used as locations for filming. No doubt they are charging a good rate for filming there.

Other notable films shot in Wells include Dungeons and Dragons, Hot Fuzz, The Huntsman (no, me neither), The Libertine, Dr Who and countless others.

You'd think people would be used to it by now. The following are genuine posts from the Wells Community Facebook site.

"We never hear how much money is made and where it goes to, for all these films over the years. ,It would be just interesting to see who benefits from these visits"

It's a series of business transactions, numbnuts. Who do you think?

"...some should be given back to the council or whoever can manage it (most probably not the council then…), to spend on a longer lasting legacy or even something in the area that requires it!"

On that basis they should do that with all businesses connected with Wells, then? And who and how much? Sorry - I forgot - you're a RETARD.

"Who gets all the dollars?"

This is Britain you tit. And again, if you haven't figured it out I refer you to the answer I gave some moments ago.

"If we had a more egalitarian society and system it would all be more transparent and fairly distributed within a community but as it is the landowner will reap reward (and may or may not contribute to charity or local good causes) and so get richer and richer. The less well off will not be aware of any benefit to them, but there may be some crumbs if for example you are a worker in the hotel or hospitality trade..but often film crews have their own catering for H&S reasons. Only answer? Communities buy up land and then all share in the rental of it?"

We don't live in a socialist utopia madam and anyway aren't farmers struggling enough? It's his land, he's a generous soul who never complains - give him a break when an opportunity comes his way.

I'm genuinely shocked at how dumb some people are. 

I, on the other hand, am lovely.

Tuesday, March 5, 2024

Brains of the Rich and Famous

I'm a Fashion, me

Bruce Willis brought it to the Hollywood A-list, now some US talk-show host called Wendy Williams has it. I looked her up and she is 59. 

Looks like it's the in-dementia for the glitterati, the cognoscenti - the in-crowd. 

I look down my nose at those with Lewy Bodies. 

Alzheimers? Dreadfully common.

Funny how no one seemed to have heard of FTD and now it's known by many. 

I first heard of it in an article David Baddiel wrote about his Dad, who by the sounds of it was always (rather like me) amazingly inappropriate, but who at Baddiel's mother's funeral outdid himself by asking 6 different women if they fancied a shag.

Even by his standards that was extreme behaviour. It was later diagnosed as Pick's Disease.

Baddiel is a patron of RDS.

That was the first time I learned of Pick's Disease. I was also aware that Terry Jones had had problems with his Frontal Lobe. 

It always seems even more tragic when someone clever has a disease that affects thought and communication or an athlete a disease affecting their motor functions. 

It seems twice as cruel.

For the best part - and here I'm very superstitious about tempting fate - I do seem to have stabilised in my decline.  Which I'm really thankful for. 

Small mercies and all that.

Still conversing with dog walkers, still running complex daft games, still reading the papers and watching sport and not getting any more (or less) than 8 out of 15 on The Times quiz.

Next week the weather forecast is good so I will do some jobs. I have been as inert as a particular gas for 2 weeks. This always happens after a period of activity: I put my feet up, and they remain there.

But I must do a Baron Munchausen and rise from my throne of atrophy, shake off the dust once more and commence battle!

First, I'll have a cup of tea and a biscuit.

Satan's Snot

Battling a cold which I told to stay away. A bit like Kenneth Copeland did to Covid 19, I demanded judgment on colds. 

"COLDS BEGONE!" I shouted.

I'm on a war-footing against colds. Vitamin C with zinc, Vitamin Bs, Vitamin D and a green smoothie for even more Bs. Lots of water. No alcohol. Yep - still not drinking alcohol but still my gut has yet to recede to its required girth.

Optimum Girths should be a title for a future blogpost on slimming, but I digress...

I am keeping the cold at arm's length  - I wake up with a sore throat but that's it. Getting plenty of rest and mild exercise.

Always difficult to separate the tiredness from the cold from that of the dementia!

Spring?

“It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.” Not me, but Great Expectations by a bloke called Dickens.

At last it’s ceased raining. The floods around here have been awful. Some people's houses now can’t be insured because flooding is considered an inevitability.

New housing estates built in fields push the rainwater off leaving it nowhere to go, so rather like ancient isles in the Somerset levels, they too are surrounded by floodwater, but this being the 21st century, sewage and other ghastliness.

And as I write this, I look out of the large window of The Sheep and Penguin. The Equinox is almost upon us. The light is golden and blinding, illuminating buildings and trees and giving me hope.

The familiar comforting smell of log fires and diesel fumes waft up my hooter as I hop along Chamberlain Street.

Ah yes, Spring is about to er, spring, but it doesn't half leave you hanging, with plenty of false starts and all. 

Magnolia, daffodils, buds on the trees. Such a mild wet winter. Barely a frost.

Should be a dry, bright week - a crack of light in the darkness.

What I’m watching/listening to

Rewatching Archive 81 and listening to the podcast that inspired it.

The podcast must have been really popular in order to have inspired Netflix execs to put money behind it, but the cowards never commissioned season 2. It was the most popular programme on Netflix at the time. 

I love its Lovecraftian horror and its homage to The Order of the Golden Dawn and Crowley. The sound design is incredible; lots of droning and static and strange dissonant music. Inspired no doubt by Delia Derbyshire

Bob Todd's dad, Aleister Crowley


The direction really accentuates the cultish Egyptian-inspired Art Deco and the creepy, dehumanising aspect of the Brutalism. 

Best watched in a dark room with good headphones on. God it's good! Made on a tight budget too.

The podcast sounds like it was done on a very meagre budget indeed. Some of the actors in Season 1 are poor. 

Interesting as ever to see the changes they made when transferring it to screen.

There are very few other things I'm interested in on any of the streaming networks.

Moving about a bit

No physical activity for a couple of weeks. Maybe longer. I don't know. But, the weather is good for next week. That means I can go out and mow the grass and do some odd jobs for people. That's really good for me.

I shall reinstate my sister's window sills and mow the grass, and even use the new strimmer for the first time. Oh yes, life has its compensations. 

No, actually I'm going to hunker down here for a bit and watch more YouTube stuff. But I must finsih reading the paper and my adventures - less binary, more analogue.

Hypersensitivity of the wife

I was just on a chat with my other FTD buddies, and one was saying how his wife kicks him under the table whenever he says anything 'inappropriate', which as we know is symptomatic of Frontotemporal Dementia.

Not the kicking that is, but the faux pas. 

Me and my dangling modifiers!

The last year or so of being with J was very stressful for all of us. I felt like I was under watch the whole time. Anything I did or said there could potentially be an eruption. 

I was shouting out while they were working from home in meetings. I realise it was intrusive and at times aggressive sounding.

My indiscretions had become a THING. The elephant in the room. It was a pressure-cooker situation. 

I no longer feel that anymore. 

I guess when someone has something they can't help that we should try and laugh it off.

'Oh that's just X's condition! Ignore him.'

Easier said than done of course.

This shouldn't put your self-censorship offline, and I realise it's difficult to laugh or shrug something off, but I think rather than waiting for the next faux-pas to happen - and it will - building the expectation up just makes it worse for everyone. 

If you're waiting and waiting and waiting then the stress of it all just snowballs.

After all, we forgive the Tourette's Sufferer. 



Monday, February 26, 2024

Demented Ramblings #42

The Geraint Organisation

Now I live in Wells and have a sensible haircut and buy the Daily Express, every thing has to be TIDY.

Everything is pristine in my man-cave. Things live in boxes. I'm like that Japanese lady, only I'm not Japanese or a lady.

I even have plants.

I cleaned the bathrooms, walked Tomos and power-washed the patio at the back, which was filthy and slippery. The broken concrete is now more beautiful than ever. (Photos on request.)

As you know ladies, I'm great with a Karcher. 😉

I'm also taking more care over my appearance

Being single again is good. I'm trying my best and feel more autonomous. Rediscovering things - rediscovering me. 

It's not like I didn't have any freedom in my previous chapter; it's just different.

Life's all right. 🙂

I'm a fully-integrated website node

I managed to replace my old stonemasonry website which used my geraintdavies.co.uk URL with this one. More luck than anything. I never understand all those codes and protocols, so I looked things up on the interweb and got so far and thought it hadn't worked. 

A few weeks later I clicked on the geraintdavies.co.uk and I was more surprised than anyone that it forwarded to Dungeon of Dementia!

That's how NASA do it - just bungle through. 

They're a bunch of morons really.

Temperance

I've got more energy from not drinking. But I'm not losing weight at the moment. In fact I feel I've put it on again. Which is odd as I have a Huel drink for lunch, a couple of pieces of fruit, a chocolate biscuit and then a small dinner in the evening.

Anyway, I don't miss the alcohol and still have the odd beer (but 0% alcohol) but fewer. 

I guess it just takes longer to lose weight at 54. 

"Come on stomach flab - disappear!" I shout.

But alas and alack, to little avail...

Boring Dreams

I have a recurring dream about owning a bike and attempting to buy a D-lock for it. Or cycling to the shops and then realising I don't own a D-Iock to secure it so I know it will be nicked.

Stress?

Maybe I should get a bike. Everyone says I should get a car as it will give me more independence and then I could leave Wells whenever I feel like it. 

I dunno. What do you reckon?

Anyway, lots of recycling dreams (HA HA HA HA HA), and then dreams about our neighbour Mrs Holister - from when I was a kid - and her fictitious grandson, Jonathan, who was very proper and grown up, whereas I was an idiot trying to be his friend and not impressing much. 

I was kicking a ball around and he was asking the names of the flowers. Bastard. Swot.

Jonathan looked like an Austin A30, but then again a lot of people back then did.

Jonathan, the boy next door who never existed.

And if you don't believe me, here's Albert Tatlock.

Albert Tatlock

He was from then, you know.

(One of my finest sentences.)

What's Trump said now?

Obsessed with the fucka, though since Carlson's interview and Navalny's death (and I suspect the timing of the 2 are related) I think Trump could be sunk. I'm optimistic.

At this time of writing he's still neck and neck with Biden, perhaps leading by a point. But Nikki Haley would beat Biden by a mile if she was the Republican nominee.

Trump's also had the audacity to compare himself to Navalny. Despicable cxxt.

He's now trying to flog his hideous gold trainers, which he is quite openly saying will increase his appeal to black people, along with his mugshot pic as a lot of black people in America will know what it's like to be as subjugated as our Donnie.

At his fascistic rallies he speaks gibberish off the cuff, and his MAGA cultists lap up whatever he says. 

His whole spiel is a fantasy. Like Johnson there is no delineation between lies or truth - just say whatever is in your interest at that particular moment and they will dutifully applaud.

They simply don't critique anything he says. 

And because of the binary nature of news channels over there once you pick a side there is no alternative to counter with. No benchmark of facts.

Like the medieval peasants following a goose to the Holy Land, they follow him regardless of any reason. 

They are the 21st Century Peasants' Crusade. They live in the Flyover States, in one of the most unequal societies in the world, and a snake-oil salesman has come to deliver them. Many of these people are evangelists and there is a poor standard of education.

I guess it's a lesson in what can happen in a Plutocracy with Universal Suffrage. A neglected portion of society are vulnerable to a narcissistic fascist.

Whataboutery with the Botskis

Crazy dreams about catastrophes, armageddon - must be seeing all the crypto fascists on the internet. With Navalny and the MAGA right embracing Putin and other hideous dictators around the world, it's just giving me a feeling of utter dread for the future.

If you go on The Times site on YouTube the pro-Putin lot are all over the comments, flooding it with lies.

So I come back with some facts, and they say:

What about Shemima Begum then?

What about Iraq?

Ah yes - the whataboutery. That deflecting tactic to answer the question with something that on the face of it sounds similar but is factually different.

Putin actually said Poland started WW2.

Factually rubbish. And he gave Carlson all that bull about the historical reasons why Ukraine belongs to Russia. 

Well, if we go back long enough France belonged to England. 

Post truth innit.

Gaming and death

Running the game a fortnight ago in Pilton for those kids was tiring but not tiresome. Far from it in fact. It was also really nice to be around young people and engage with them.

Doing it at Easter again.

Our Thursday campaign reached a point where 2 - and nearly a third - character died. 

I did warn them that this particular part of the adventure was very hazardous. But still, they put their blinkers on and ran about putting on cursed items, running down staircases to open chests that were obviously there to tempt them, and doing very little observing. 

Oh well, I warned them.

So 2 new characters are miraculously going to join next session. Simon and I are really happy with his character and how integrated it is to the story.

Nearly at the end now - 4 more sessions probably.

Okay. That's me done for another week.


Saturday, February 17, 2024

Put on your best pants, Major Tom

What the glitterati of mid-Somerset are wearing this season

Met my old friend Shelley for lunch on Friday at the Sheep and Penguin - I wore my finest pant and my Hong Kong Phooey T-shirt. 

I dress to impress.

It's rather akin to Vogue cover photos, where on the inside cover of the magazine they even tell you what perfume the model is wearing. ('Model' is a word that never looks right to me on the page - how about 'Moddle'?)

Hence knowing I have the McLaren of pants on and a highly sexy T-shirt - whilst never revealing said garments - is like wearing under armour before a rugby match. 

Like Clark Kent wearing his Superman outfit underneath his corporate suit.

I felt invincible!

These most fragrant of pants are my under armour, my scent, my most gussetted treasure.

My special occasion pant.

I can feel you gloating.


Damn I wish I'd bought more of the same.

I am also using beard oil to curl my magnificent whiskers (for I am the most pubic man in Wells). 

I can't wait for my whiskers to turn white as this will make me (even) more sexy.

I get the eye from the old ladies these days you see. My key demographic has changed.

Dementia Towers

Maybe we are all demented here. Dad forgot the surname (that's 'Last Name' to Millennials) of the guy opposite who's lived there for 50 years, and then forgot to put the carrots on.

It may just be tiredness.

I've often said I have dementia in a 10' radius. Come within my aura and you too will see; you will forget things which remained hitherto unforgettable. 

But, if we all have it (or early signs of it) where is this going and at what rate?

It could be like The League of Gentlemen, or The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Although I see the latter Leatherface family walking their horrible dogs on The Bishop's Fields now and then, so they're already taken.

Like all these bridges, I shall cross them when they arrive 'neath my feet.

Food for thought though.

What I'm watching

Watching YouTube too much. But these are good things to subscribe to:

The Lincoln Project - Trump hates these guys. If you want any more reason, they make commercials to absolutely ruin him, often in answer to the ones his team have made. They are doing an invaluable service.
NRL - The greatest rugby tournament in the world is back next month. No kick-tennis here.
Vlad Vexler - London-based Russian philosopher and all-round intellectual giving his views on what's really going on with Putin and Russia, what their motivations and intentions are.
Netflix: biographical docs on Orson Welles, Quincy Jones, David Geffen. All really good. 

Televisual Offal

The Masked Arsehole - filmed in RetardoVision for the freshly lobotomised. 80s one-hit wonders and drug-addled soapstars who no one can remember and when unmasked everyone goes "Oh no - it's them!" but actually they don't have a clue who it is, because they've long been erased from everyone's' collective brainage for evolutionary purposes.

You can tell the budget goes on the panel 'talent' rather than the singers.

Utter, utter, utter shite.

"Take it off! Take it off!" chant the masses: the type of people who clap and miss.

And then on BBC breakfast they're interviewing Tiffany. Now if you don't know who Tiffany is, she was a teen popstar in the 80s who performed at shopping malls (those large derelict structures in middle America) and drew huge crowds, and had a hit with "I think we're alone now." It turned out her mother had forced her to perform and in an act of rebellion she posed nude for Playboy. 

Now why did I remember that?

Anyway, there she was on The Masked Anus - 40 years on from her fame - and everyone is acting surprised to see her. The reason they're surprised is because they haven't a clue who she is. And then - THEN - she is being interviewed on BBC Breakfast on Saturday morning.

No one bloody cares!

It all goes to prove my theory that the human species has peaked a few generations ago and we are now on a fast rewind back to our primal bollock stage.

Remembering Pronouns

2 teacher friends have recently told me of separate incidents. 

One, where at the end of a long term they called a pupil by their previous female name - cue sharp intakes of breath from the rest of the class. Having known this pupil by this previous name for 3 years and then having to adopt their new chosen name, it was an understandable brain slip. I mean anyone who knows teachers appreciates how exhausted they are at the end of a term, right?

The second was in D&D and one child called a biological female 'her'. Cue more sharp intakes of breath. Bear in mind that last year 'she' was a 'they', and now wishes to be referred to as a 'he'. It's very difficult to keep up with all this and for most part take it seriously. Most of us don't want to offend and are happy to go along with it, but we all secretly know that he is blatantly a she.

My solution to teachers when they are trying to avoid splitting the class up into boys and girls and avoiding modern sensitivities is this: 

"Vaginas to the left - penises to the right."

Done.

And no one will get offended at that!

I have already invoiced the Department of Education 30 guineas for my consultation services.



Thursday, February 15, 2024

Sensible post about shirts

Sleep

Yes. That. 

Dream tons, which according to my sister and Robert Winston is a sign of good quality sleep. 

I'm certain bad quality sleep over the years contributed to my condition.

Nevertheless, I woke up this morning (thankfully) after erotic dreams about an old flatmate (female). 

My bedroom was like a scene from the Hangover movies.

Pillows everywhere except the bed, duvet halfway up the arse and books and iPhone on the floor. I'm glad I have the whole bed to myself or I'd be guilty of assault and battery.

Thankfully no ladyboys anywhere. 😬

Been really busy of late. Even putting together a complicated piece of flat-packed furniture (a wardrobe with drawers and doors) which took 3 hours (if Ikea is Lego this was the Technical Lego version) took it out of me. I was knackered: just slumped in a chair watching TV for the rest of the day.

I've also been prepping White Plume Mountain for DMing to kids this week in Pilton, organised by my friend Katy from Edspired Tutoring

Everything is still doable - but it's taking it out of me. It just serves to remind me that in no way would I be able to work full-time anymore. 

DMing for Kids

It's half term and for the last 2 days I've been DMing for a party of teenagers who went through the legendary White Plume Mountain - a bonkers funhouse dungeon from 1981, which I've mentioned numerous times in previous posts.

The first thing to say is they were really nice people. By the second day they were thinking more about strategy and working with each other rather than on the first day when they acted as individuals. 

I had to rejig their characters around as they were pretty under-optimised. But with that done and some general advice about spell combinations, they went from being at the edge of a TPK (Total Party Kill) to triumph but it was still enough of a challenge for them to be fully immersed in it all.

They enjoyed themselves (apparently), and I'll look forward to DMing them next time, but I have to ask myself -  in the voice of a corporate trainer from Basingstoke -  "What are my learnings?"

  1. Have a Session Zero. This would be a pre-game session on-line to flesh out the characters and discuss roles and strategies within the group, and to ensure they haven't done anything daft in the character generation.
  2. Insist on character generation being done old school - analogue. With DND Beyond, you can just click and print out a character sheet. That's okay, but when you generate a character level-by-level with dice and pencil and paper, you know the character far better. The high level characters generated had way too many abilities  - I likened it to making a choice in a restaurant with a menu that runs into pages. Just have 4-5 choices in any situation marked out - quickens the game and makes it far less frustrating for everybody.
  3. Run a lower-level adventure. Plenty of good one-shots to be had with a heavier role-playing element than WPM, and lower-level characters have fewer options - see menu analogy above.

Where's me pills??

In Wells one has to - apparently - give the Health Centre 5 days notice before the prescription is available in the pharmacy. In Kingston it was only 2.

I'm not quite used to this yet.

I will run out on Monday. I have picked them up earlier before, so I'm hoping they'll be there on Saturday morning. 

In fact, being a born worrier and now fixated on things like this (partly probably due to retirement and not having anything particularly to worry about, but mostly due to FTD) I think I'll call the practice to see if they can hurry it up.

Not having Sertraline for a day is...inadvisable. I may turn into Mr Hyde...and I don't want that.

Nor does anyone else.

Not finding solace in televisual delights

Amazon are now putting dreadful commercials into their programming every 12 minutes, unless you pay another £3 a month on top of your Prime subscription. 

Monsters.

Netflix are due to start the same scheme. I realise there was an actors' strike but there is very little decent programming on either at present. So little that they've even started pushing awful 70s and 80s sexploitation films onto the Prime platform. 

Rubbish.

So after watching an Orson Welles documentary, I then went back to my customary YouTube options - 
  1. Boxing
  2. What's Trump said now? 
  3. Dungeons and Dragons
  4. Other
So I went to other and started watching music clips, which I have neglected to do for too long. 

It was great. I began with the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band then sublimed (as one does) onto Heatwave and 70s British Disco which often had a heavy West Indies influence. 





I always thought Heatwave was an American band. In fact the 2 lead singers were Americans but the keyboard player and main songwriter was a guy from Cleethorpes called Rod Temperton who'd had a job filleting fish. 


That's him on the keyboards.

Anyway, he eventually went on to work with Quincy Jones and wrote songs for Michael Jackson for Off The Wall and Thriller, and hit songs for other people throughout the 80s and 90s, 

Apparently (I'm quoting from the wonderful Gilles Peterson) after Lennon and McCartney Rod Temperton was commercially the most successful songwriter Britain has produced.

How cool is that?


Characters

Definition being distinct individuals who don't follow trends, are eccentric and amusing.

There appear to be fewer and fewer these days. Of my friends, David Bowles and Martin Duncan-Jones were characters. 

Of the people I admire, many can be defined as mavericks/characters: Zappa, Viv Stanshall, Ivor Cutler

When you needed raw sex-appeal to be a popstar

There don't seem to be any anymore in the pop world: just products. 

I don't have anything against them.

It's just that I don't have anything for them, either.

It's my belief that in an increasingly bland and homogenised world we desperately need some characters.

That's all.














Tuesday, February 6, 2024

5th dan Stupid

 D.I.Y. O.D.

 I can’t stop! It's like a disease.

Clearing stuff up, painting, sawing, painting again, cleaning, ironing, fixing, drilling, injecting, and buying more stuff. 

Too much stuff: Nerys's window sill replacements.

Then blasting Matt's alley and trimming Kate's bush; that's 2 jobs and a half.

From being almost catatonic in my inactivity I am now so restless I have to tidy or clean everything I see in front of me IMMEDIATELY.

It's driving Mum nuts, not that it affects her. And she wants it done because she can't stand mess. She just hates the thought of any 'upheaval'. 

They're all telling me to pace myself but I'm just on a mission. 

It won't last forever I tell them - just go with it while it's there.

Sorted Dad's music room and storage efforts, cleared the garage of shite, and the lock-up, bought more stuff to decorate, bought a new orthopaedic pillow because of my neck and shoulders aching - it's even affecting my thumbs now! 

Painted the crap half of my man cave and put those shelves up AND made the walls good.

A few plants and some books should do it.

4 or 5 (I forget) car-loads to the tip, and counting.

About to buy plants next. Btw - I have almost zero interior design skills, so I've Ikea'd the shit out of everything and borrowed Jacqui's colour-schemes. Perhaps making a little version of what I left behind in Kingston, possibly as a comfort thing?

I've found getting down to read quite difficult. I've read the paper but not really any of my D&D stuff, which I'm finding a little concerning.

Spammed Twice!

Got spammed the other day. I got a reply from Ted (HIMSELF!) of Nerd Immersion (unsurprisingly a D&D channel on YouTube). It even used his N logo and told me to speak to him on Telegram. So I made an account and he asked me how long I'd been playing, what I liked about his channel and told me I'd won a Sony Playstation. I was elated.

He then showed me some terrible pictures of a Sony Playstation in a carrier bag and said I'd only have to pay 40% of the shipping. 

Ah. I see. 

I sent a message to his actual email account and said I'd done so. He got quite angry with me then and said I'd no longer be receiving the gift and had insulted his generosity. 

It wasn't Ted at all!!!

Funny. But my initial excitement was enough to put my logic circuits offline. He nearly had me too.

I actually love spam. I really do. Here's one I got earlier which I replied to underneath. 



I know, I know; should have been 'shall", not 'will'.

Yes, I am wonderful.

D&D Update

Thursday D&D session was a dud. Katy came in early (for her) and brought an entire 2' square tray of sugary stuff. Caramel, chocolate Wombat poos, and other delights.

So while that was going on they were exploring the dungeon. Someone touched a skull which then animated as the ghost of a jester killed years ago having insulted the King. 

It was immune to virtually anything and DM's are told in the text to role-play it as a major annoyance. Well I ramped that up to 11 and played him in the style of Tony Clifton.



It went down really well (I saw Luke getting annoyed with me) as I insulted all their characters and started singing "I will survive" very loudly.

Then the sugar kicked in and everyone was so loud and laughing non-stop - I had to call a stop at 10pm as it was impossible to run anymore. We had slipped into the realm of Chaos.

So next week is massive: 4 big sessions of Dungeon Mastering and 2 sessions of playing in 5 days! 2 of them are going to be spent on my Wells group and 2 DMing for some teenagers in Pilton Working Men's Club - 2 x 5 hour sessions. 

I had to have a DBS check to make sure I'm not a paedo. Well I'm not. Okay? And the government agrees with me.

'I AIN'T NO PAEDO'. There's a t-shirt that needs printing.

Body Aches

Spine, neck and thumb pain - should get it checked out. Rolling a ball on my back over the knots of muscle by my shoulder blades, lying down on a neck pillow-thing to cure my neck problems, Yoga stretches (just some easy ones) and an orthopaedic pillow on its way. 

On the good side I’m losing weight…but sometimes my stomach seems to inflate. Bought powdered Huel - enough for 2 months. I know that once I stop taking it my weight will come back on a bit, but I drink about 3 of these things a week anyway. Much cheaper to buy the powder and make the drinks myself.

This bloke came up to me...

I was walking the dog (Tomos) the other day, and suddenly I could sense a face looking at me. I turned to look and there's a man almost running along side me staring at me. 

"Did you say something to me back there?"

Okay - he either wants a shag or a fight. And he doesn't look the fighting type. Especially with that idiotic hat.

"No!" I replied, incredulously.

"Oh." 

And off he walked to his silver Toyota Yaris. 

Who does things like that? Obviously he does.

Saw him at Waitrose today. Pointed him out. 

Bloody weirdos.

Project Little Ted

My favourite soft toy was Little Ted. I feel incredibly guilty as - like in Toy Story - I rejected him at a certain age and then he was packed away somewhere.

He was the best of the soft toys I had. I loved him. And I'm actually feeling proper, real, genuine guilt about how I've treated him.

It may be he died of a broken heart or he was given away to someone or thrown out. I need to find him to atone for my awfulness.

I'm going up to the attic now.

Wish me luck.


Wednesday, January 31, 2024

I was Baron Munchausen's stunt double

Activity

I shook off the dust and got out of my slumber. 

Suddenly I was young again.

Shelves. Put up 5 of the buggers around the house; made the walls good (enough).

Secured a wobbly handrail badly installed by shoddy builders. 

I secured the bracket for Ben's punchbag which had come loose from the wall. 

Cut the grass in the back garden for the first time in 2024.

Cut the grass in the front garden. Got a foul smell on my fingers. Had to use Swarfega, surgical spirit, fairy liquid and a scrubbing brush to get rid of it. Maybe a fox's scent?

Helped a mate move his furniture around.

Ebaying and Facebook-Marketing old stuff.

Got odd-jobs coming up. 

Going to paint my desk wall Radicchio much to my Mother's consternation.

All this activity galvanised me and I felt energised! I worked all day Friday and Saturday. Couldn't stop.

Today I hardly did anything. 

DOGS

That was after walking Tomos of course. I see a nice lady with a tiny dachshund called Snoopy. The way he yips and does a little shimmy when he's bossing her reminds me of Chip. And I've seen 2 Sealyhams in Wells too - obviously I stop and speak to the owners who are surprised I recognise the breed, and I show them photos of little Stanley.

God I miss the dogs.

What I'm watching

I watched programmes on the history of Welsh rugby in the 80s - not a great time, especially after the golden decade that preceded it. Then I watched a Netflix programme on Andy Warhol's diaries. Rather a tragic figure, old Andy.

It was a bit too gay porn, even for me.

Prior to that I'd gorged myself on Giselda on Netflix, which was based on the story of a cocaine crime lord (or rather, lady) of Miami in the late 70s /early 80s. She was so ruthless she eventually controlled the scene in the whole city.

The incredible Sofia Vergara plays the title role. We all know her as a comedy actress, but she is astounding as the ruthless Griselda. 

It's a brutal series but very very good. I wouldn't be surprised if she gets an award for it.

There's nowhere left to go

I don't get out of Wells very much.

I would go to Glastonbury, but it's rubbish.

I would go to Ikea, but I will go mad and kill people.

I will drive Dad to the hospital in Taunton as no one else can. Other than that, Taunton can just disappear of the face of this flat earth for all I care.

What a crap town.

And I can't face a busy city (obvs not Taunton) with all those lights, noise and movement; somewhere dark and quiet is preferable.

I shall end up living in the woods in a hole.

So anyway,  I got my Ikea stuff delivered here. So much easier. 

New games stuff delivered too. Waiting impatiently for Kickstarter stuff to arrive. One book is 5 months late already.

IT'S CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!!!

Tourettes 

Shouting out occasionally. In the house, in the street and while walking Tomos.

'NO!' Telling a memory to stop.

'MY BOTTOM SMELLS!' Is there a bottom that doesn't smell, occasionally?

'BUTTS!' More obsession with arses.

'MY WINKLE IS SUPER!' I'm trying to pep myself up here.

Give me a break.


Wednesday, January 24, 2024

It's an existence, really

America

Of course we had our fair share of religious lunatics in Britain. But then we kicked them out as they were spoiling our fun, like banning the theatre and Christmas. 

They ended up in a place they called America. 

That was in the 17th Century.

In their absence we had The Age of Enlightenment which a lot of them seemed to have missed out on. Basically we learned about the equality of man, scientific practice, reason and other groovy stuff. 

It dragged us out of the mire of superstition and belief in the supernatural of the medieval period and into the modern age.

Or so we thought.

In a recent poll 24% of Americans identify as Evangelical Christians. They think Trump is a Christian. Some actually think he is the Messiah. 

I can't think of anyone further removed from the Son of God than the narcisistic, lying, raping, tax-avoiding, insurrection-encouraging, pussy-grabbing adulterer that is Donald Trump. The only man to have ever lost money by owning a casino.

An American influencer, earlier today.

Many evangelicals believe in the literal word of the Bible (of course they still cherry-pick the same old shit, and ignore other bits like that stuff about stoning your neighbour if he eyes up the Mrs) and if you don't agree with them that makes you BAD. 

You hate God; you hate people. That's it. Along with some choice quotes from the Old Testament.

I'm currently weening myself off arguing with stupid American fundamentalist Christians and their weird antediluvian world view on YouTube. Watching Trump's nonsensical and increasingly bizarre and rambling speeches, his deluded supporters, and the smugness of the Democrats,  the war in Ukraine, the hideousness the poor people are enduring in Palestine, I just need to come up for air, as shallow as that may sound.

Gaming

Well, I don't play Baldur's Gate 3 anymore. 330 hours of it has put paid to that.

However, I am still running D&D on Thursdays in Wells, and they are going through the archlich Acerak's dungeon, level by level. I think they were rather shocked by the traps in there so they will now have to put their thinking caps on as they proceed every inch or their characters will be snuffed out...

On Wednesdays I'm playing Larry's Temple of Elemental Evil on Roll20 which is great. Proper old school adventure written by Gary Gygax himself, so if the Thursday lot think 5E adventures are tough, they would be in for a shock with this one. The probability of TPKs (Total Party Kills - where all the players would be wiped out) were significantly higher back then. The game could be brutal.

In modern 5e D&D (its latest incarnation) it's actually quite difficult to die. I guess kids get attached to their characters (we did back in the day too but didn't seem to matter so much then) and if you play (which modern gamers were brought up on) games like Call of Duty when you die you get respawned a few seconds later. This is what games designers have to deal with. 

Weekends 

Bored, quite frankly. Missing my buddies at The Willoughby. The sights, the sounds the smells. 

It's such a buzz though - seeing everyone and the atmosphere, plus oodles of pints of glorious Ranmore. So good. 

It's great to get stuck in, in-person, with your character or running a game, where everyone is SO into it. I'm currently pretty listless at weekends but I intend, in the next couple of months, to be going back to London on Sundays to play. 

We occasionally slot in the odd weekend session in Wells in addition to our Thursday sessions. It's great because people who work are a little more alert during the day and we play for up to 5 hours rather than the 3 1/2 hour sessions we do on Thursdays. You get so much done.

There's not many people about in January either. That's just a thing. Rubbish time of the year isn't it?

"Yes Geraint."

Tiredness

So annoying to be tired all the time. The moment I charge into any task or job of work I'm yawning like a mouth-breather a couple of hours later. I want to accomplish things and beat myself up about not being able to. 

I'm so ineffective at achieving things these days. Takes me forever to get round to doing stuff.

Lists. Lists are the answer. Shelves to put up, railings to refit. I least I know how to do these things but what's stopping me is the disease: I find it so difficult to get off my arse and do these things. 

The old executive functions are offline.

Do you remember when cars had manual chokes? A lot of you won't. 

I keep forgetting to pull mine out. The choke as well.

(Phnaar.)

Don't have to do all the chores in a day of course; just break the tasks down into smaller, more manageable (for the brain) chunks. Set myself achievable goals. 

All that bollocks.

Still, on the plus side I write my diary, write this blog, read the paper (less so though, these days), walk Tomos, play and run complex games, drive Dad to accursed Taunton for a checkup at Musgrove Park Hospital there and back with no problem, buy food at the supermarket, make food (now and again), wash the dishes, watch some TV, read a bit more.

IS HE NOT MAGNIFICENT?
That's my life at the moment. Could be worse. Could be working at a call centre or something.

Selling shit

This is also giving me something to do. I'm doing Ebay and learning as I go, but the fees seem very high especially when you're selling stuff for £10. 

Barely worth it to be honest. 

I sold a lot of camera stuff to an online company called MPB and they were great. On receiving the goods they even said I'd undervalued them and paid me £30 more! And being demented I'd left a load of other paraphernalia in the camera bag I sent, so they sent it back, and I'm reselling those bits and pieces at the moment. How good is that?

Facebook Marketplace - easy and local. Sold a table and chair to an old friend so just recycling stuff that's perfectly usable and can benefit someone else and I get a few Earth pounds in the process.

If you have any other ideas please contact me. I'm not a natural Del Boy.

I've got some DIY jobs to do for Nerys too.

Favourite zero or low-alcohol beers

I'm off the alcohol. I'm going to keep it up until I see significant weight loss as I am still a bag of tapioca.

Apart from herbal tea, this is what I drink in an evening.

Bristol Beer Factory - Clear Head - lovely hoppy pale ale. Ever so moreish. Available on tap in 2 of our local pubs.

Brooklyn Special Effects - nut-brown Lager, really pleasant with a sweet maltiness.

Heineken Zero - tastes like a regular lager with no bad yeasty aftertaste whatsoever as it's brewed as a regular lager and those clever Danes have invented a process to take all the alcohol out at the end. On tap in lots of places.

Leffe 0.0 - wonderful zero-alcohol version of their 6.6% Blonde. Perfectly balanced and delicious. 

Rant of the week

Other drivers. In Wells they dawdle or fanny about at junctions, everywhere they have to make a decision they just stop the car in the road and wait for their brain to get into gear.

Okay: I'm still a London driver with ZERO patience. I beep them when they're looking at their phone or having a quick tug at the traffic lights. 

That's all you have to do is wait for the lights to turn green. I am I expecting too much?

Don't answer that.

But no. They can find myriad other things. Maybe reading The Mail online (I'm not hyperlinking to that crap) to find out how large Kim Kardashian's bum is or how small some 'influencer's' brain is.

I love it that in this day and age ...well, I don't love it as a matter of fact. In fact I don't like it at all. What was I talking about?

Anyway, I don't like it at all that when people are in the wrong, going the wrong way up a road or cutting someone up by crossing into your lane, that it's never their fault. 

Slip roads entering onto motorways - how many drivers do you see who are just looking straight ahead and merging with the traffic without looking?

'Lots.' is the word you're looking for.

BLOODY SCUM.