In which I am chased by an irate French policeman.
Despite my angelic looks I am really a bad boy…I’ve had my share of run ins with the law. I’m hardcore criminal scum. I’m bloody gangster mate. 2460hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh1.
Like all members of the underworld fraternity I think I should share my stories of villainy. What you are about to read could shatter your faith in the inherent goodness of humanity.
Let’s go back to a quiet Sunday afternoon on the dangerous streets of inner Bedworth. A small amount of litter is blowing outside of Stubbs’ toy shop, highlighting the plight of a town centre that hasn’t been cleaned since Friday. Continue reading “I’m a criminal”
In which the boring can be interesting.
If you believed the news then the world is full of change and we are all on the cusp of some crisis affecting the status quo of our lives. In reality I got up this morning, went to work, sat through a load of meetings, and caught the train to go home.Tonight I will face the hardest choice of the day when I have to decide where I will order a take away from.
I am one of 7 billion people on this planet, and if the news affects a million different people a day then it will have an impact on me once every 19 years. This is the reality of real life, for most of us for most of the time it is mundane. As a result we have an existence that is hidden in the middle pages, or a segment just before that quirky animal at the end of the hour. We are page 27 or on at 15.53.
Continue reading “My boring life”
In which you wouldn’t like to see me angry.
When I fight I fight to win.
What is the point of finding yourself in an altercation that you are happy to lose? My number one aim is the jugular and I won’t be happy until I am standing victorious over my defeated foe. It’s why I’ve never one a game of Civilization with anything other than a conquest victory, I start out all peaceful and want to spread harmony and peace but then Gandhi nukes my capital and I will seek vengeance upon my attacker (and all those who were not involved because they stood by and watched).
It’s this desire to see my victims destroyed that I tend to stay away from conflict, my flight or fight response is not in perfect balance so I try to avoid getting myself in a position where I have to rely on my animal instincts. If I don’t have to make the choice then I don’t have to deal with the consequences. Who knows what happens when I get angry, I don’t like it when I get angry…
Continue reading “Flight or fight”
In which I try to remember my memories.
It seems like ages since I was last in New York, but it hasn’t been. It is just that I have a terrible visual memory.
I seem to live very much in the present, I don’t really consider the future that much and my past recall is not very vivid. One of my most common refrains at work is “I’ve slept since I did that”, it is like when I go to bed I do a format on my brain which deletes all the thoughts collected that day.
My factual memory is fantastic, I was doing a quiz with Mrs G last night on famous ships and was able to remember the name of most of them. One of which was the Great Eastern that we both saw last year in Bristol, I can remember all the facts about that trip but I don’t remember being there.
Continue reading “Remembering my past”
In which I design a dream place to live.
On a Sunday we decamp to Ma G’s for dinner, on the way back we drive through the outskirts of the suburbs and get to look at all the nice houses that look like they have been designed in The Sims. Full of columns and big windows with a painted down drive way, it gets me wishing that I could have a plot of land a large amount of money to create my own maison for the family.
I am no Courboisier, nor am I Sir Foster. My dalliance with self designed architecture is restricted to Lego (and the usual cube shaped abode) or the sprawling mass of giant and empty rooms you get on The Sims. I can’t imagine I would create anything truly outstanding in the field of design, and the host of Grand Designs would look forlornly on my homage to Christopher Wren. It would almost certainly look like something a footballer had drawn on a napkin.
So let me try and talk you through these plans. I’ve decided to go for the very restrained rectangular shape, this will be governed by the golden ratio for aesthetics and the shape of the screen making it easy to do so (fact: most building shapes are based upon the piece of paper available, this is why most are box shape and very few are round).
Continue reading “My own dream house”
In which I dream of creating dinosaurs and winning The Ashes.
When I was little(r) I played the “when I grow up” game. I knew what I wanted to be, it was going to be fun and exciting and ever so adventurous. I would change the world! I did not sit and think “You know what, I want to be a data analyst”. It just happened that what I have is an aptitude for crunching numbers and making spreadsheets. I was never going to be a NBA basketballer so I choose the world of Excel and datasets.
I was going to be doing any number of different occupations, I had the whole world in front of me and nothing to stop me. So what happened? Continue reading “When I grow up”
In which Snow White is really just the evil step-daughter.
Poor, innocent Snow White. The fairest (source: magic mirror) of all princesses yet cruelly hounded until saved by her prince. How could I have issues with her? Quite easily it seems, because the fairy tale shows ‘princesses’ are naive and stupid, jealous and cruel.
Oh, she looks cute but there is a cold heart under that dress
Before the main event it’s probably best to tackle the villain of the piece “The Wicked Queen”. The Wicked Queen is a representation of the princess’ greatest fears, that there is someone in some physical way better than you (aka fairness). A constant need of reassurance not from another person, but from a mirror.
“Yes, you are pretty and oh so fair” cries back a reflective piece of glass. The reflection you see is just their own self-image patting them on the back saying “well done you, you hit the genetic jackpot and came out with good looks”. And this goes on until that one day they feel that little niggle in the back of the mind that perhaps suggests there is someone ‘better’.
Continue reading “Late Review : Snow White”
In which I am a rebel without a cause to support.
Being charitable doesn’t come naturally, I get riled up every time I step onto Birmingham’s main street and prepare myself to run the gamut of chuggers waiting to accost the unaware shoppers. It’s like the Pamplona bull run but running at the herd instead of away from the clipboarding hoard.
If I was to be in a position where I didn’t have to work and I could turn myself into a much less rich Bill and Melinda Gates I’m not sure who I could help. As well as dealing with the workers of Charity Militant I also struggle with who I should choose to help.
It’s very mean of charities to ask you to decide between who is the most worthwhile cause. Pick between this sad child and this sad puppy, our cancer is worse than their cancer, which human rights abuse angers you most.
I have finite resources to be able to help those in need, I am not rich enough to donate to all and there is not enough time to lend a hand.
Continue reading “Ungiving to charity”
I which I try to convince you about art.
Art puzzles me.
Perhaps because I have a more scientific look on life I can’t get past a cigar just being a cigar.
The meaning of art is something I struggle with. If the artist has placed meaning in their work I can understand and follow that, but it is the hidden or interpreted meaning that I cannot grasp. If not explicitly stated does the esoteric story of a painting really exist, or do experts place their own thoughts onto art?
Continue reading “Becoming an art critic”
In which I’m racing to the best days.
When you are faced by the madness caused by crazy people you have two options, you can put up with the madness and let it slide or try to do something about it. For the most part I am of the former camp. I find it much easier to roll my eyes and be like a queen with power over ice.
I have to internalise this pent up rage on a daily basis whilst driving to work, if I didn’t it would eat me up and lead me to going a little bit Falling Down. I even have the glasses.
Still it does get to me, sitting in the car paying for the privilege of going nowhere as the dead dino-juice gases emit from the metal boxes around me. There are a number of wrongs that I would love to right.
Continue reading “You give me road rage”