A Brush with the Fuzz - an occasional series - No. 3

First, I just want to set the record straight on something that has been bugging me for a few years. The first Glastonbury festival was not in 1971. It was in 1970. It was also at Michael Eavis's farm in Pilton but somehow the whole event has been swept under the carpet in festival folklore.
My friend Jo had gone a couple of days before with a large quantity of dope. Me and another friend Desmond were in Aylesbury on the friday night without any dope at all, and we so so wanted to get to the festival. It was late and we were walking back from the pub to Des's house. On the forecourt of this garage was an old mini van - I walked up to it and opened the door, and unbelievably the keys were in the ignition. We jumped in and I started the engine and away we went.
After sometime Des climbed in the back to have a sleep and I just carried on driving towards my goal. I was driving through Bath and feeling pretty pleased at the progress we had made so far. About two in the morning disaster struck - we got pulled over by the cops. I slid the window open (remember those windows) and Mr Plod asked me all sorts of questions - where I was going, how long I had owned the vehicle, my name and address - I answered the whole lot, lying through my teeth to every one - came up with a brilliant false name and address in Dunstable without so much as a hesitation.
All the time this was going on Des was hidden in the back under a blanket - I really didn't want them to find him - he was the most disreputable looking character and for sure his appearance would have guaranteed a drug search. Yet again the gods were with me and Plod carried on his way. I drove on a few miles, woke Des up and decided we needed to abandon the mini and get lost pretty quickly ourselves. We got to Shepton Mallet, found a car park, dumped the van and ran. Looking back in hindsight I have to say we panicked unnecessarily there - the chances of that cop checking to see if I'd been telling the truth were pretty slim really.
So we got to the festival and found Jo and this time it was a disaster - the dope was duff.
Again just for the record, the stage was a load of boards on bales of straw. Topping the bill were Quintescence - just one of the many fantastic bands around at the time. Absolutely fucking brilliant.
I spent the weekend with a beautiful girl called Mony who I had met a few months before down in St Ives. At the time she was with another guy, so I was pretty chuffed to find her on her own at Glastonbury. You know those split seconds in life when it could go either way - guess they're every moment if you think about it - but that moment I said goodbye to Mony, can't believe I did that, even to this day.

Bad Acid Trips - an occasional series - No.1

It was a beautiful 1968 summers evening and I was working at CBS records sorting out the returns from the shops. Many of these records were faulty and it was our job to play them and see if the supposed fault was in fact true. Often it was no more than an excuse for people to return records they had bought but didn't want to keep. We kept a log of all the returns and then had to throw them in a skip outside.
Well, as you can imagine throwing away Bob Dylan records in perfect order was not an easy task, and it didn't take us long to work out that our meagre wage could be very greatly enhanced by a little bit of what these days we would call recycling. I won't go into the details except to say that just for those few short weeks I had more money than I knew what to do with - just wads of it in every pocket.
We spent the evenings at a couple of pubs in the centre of town. We had what was known in those days 'quite a cool scene' going at those pubs, and there was always a lot of excitement. Loads of drink, loads of dope, and loads of girls - for me as a young guy it was like being in heaven. Anyway to cut a long story short, that night I was well away and we were all outside sitting on the pavement having a great time. My mate Jo came up to me and slipped me a tab of acid, and said, 'bout time you tried one of these Tom'. Well, dropping acid wasn't really in my plans but he caught me with my defenses right down and I popped it on the spot.
Do you know, my only recollection of that first trip was sitting on the pavement looking down at this huge shiny black boot about the size of a football. I looked up to see a policeman's cute little red face under an enormous helmet with a huge silver badge on it. He was looking down at me and he politely asked me to move into the side to make a bit more room for people to walk by. I clearly remember thinking 'Oh shit, this could be bad. I have no idea what is going on at all, and I'm pretty sure I need to stay just here right now'.
What seemed like forever passed by and finally he walked on his way - thank the lord, the gods were with me that night.

Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll (especially sex)

So did you hear about the two antique dealers who got washed up on a desert island with a chippendale cabinet, They got very rich over the years selling it back and forward to each other over and over, making a profit on each deal they did.

Last night my wife and I were invited out to dinner with a few old friends - of course I really didn't want to go, being the miserable unsociable git that I have become over the last 50 or so years on the planet, but actually I really enjoyed the whole evening. I do have to be a little careful at events like this cos I have this thing where if I drink too much wine I get very loud, and start to say a few things without thinking too much about the consequences. See normally I am a very quiet guy who considers his words and weighs up exactly what each situation can take in the way of humour, politics, religion or whatever. There are only a few people who really ever hear what I truly think about things - I've got few enough friends as it is.
Anyway, one interesting discussion centred around my inability to understand how wealth is created. I have thought about this for a long time (like for years), even to the point where I have actively sought out and questioned people who call themselves economists, but to date I still don't understand how it happens. It could just be that I am simply not smart enough to get this I guess.
But thinking about those two guys with the Chippendale cabinet - that is kind of the situation we are in isn't it. We have these resources that we buy and sell, and wealth gets created, but I just can't understand where it comes from. See if someone in our local hippy town comes up with some new fad, like emotional whatever techniques, and some other guy goes and buys it for £60 an hour, he's got to get that £60 from somewhere, so he has to sell something he does to get his money, but those people that buy whatever he is selling have to sell something themselves to get their money, and so on and so on. So the original guys new idea is creating wealth, but that money to buy it off him has to come from somewhere. So I reckon someone somewhere has to be losing out badly. Wealth can't come from nowhere. My hunch is it coming from explotitation of the third world - I bet the profit is coming from exploitation of labour, just like Karl Marx said all those years ago.
Just tell me if I'm wrong, one of you clever fuckers out there.

Sweet Baby Jesus - some highlights of my life

Do you know, and this is God's honest truth right, once I was making love to a woman and that's what she cried out. That brought a smile to my smug little face.
But on a more serious note, I once hit a six into the river at Lustleigh cricket ground - now that was satisfying cos I hated those bastards. That was not the only good thing that happened to me as far as the glorious game was concerned. I was once top scorer in a house match at my goddam awful grammar school that I went to. I hated the games teacher and he hated me so it was very satisfying to walk off the field top scorer and 'not out' and look him in the eye and smile. What a sweet day.
One day when I was at Home Park with my two boys, the officials were drawing out the half time lottery, and my son quietly said to me, 'Dad, we've won'. Picking up that cash after the match and sharing it between me and all my kids was fun.
Seriously now, and this is an important highlight here, so concentrate ok, working out that how you feel can be more about what is happening inside you rather than what's going on in the crazy outside world. Boy, that made a big difference to my life I'll tell you.
And finally, and I can't say getting married to my wife was the happiest day of my life, but as she is standing here looking over my shoulder at what I type, I'd better just say, it was one of the best days and I love her.
See ya.

The Family Motto

Today I was about to go outside to start my jobs when I realised I needed a pee. I had already laced up my boots so I thought rather than take them off or risk being caught walking through the house with them on, I'd take a pee in the yard. I have this little spot where I generally pee, it's round the back of a shed and the view from there across the valley is quite inspiring first thing in the morning. Of course the price you pay for a view is the wind and boy do we catch it up here. I actually really like the wind - it keeps people away from the place which suits me cos I hate people (most of them, not you obviously).
So anyway, I take a look at the view, and got ready to take my pee. Then without so much as a thought, I turned a 180 to get the wind onto my back. Nothing is a substitute for years of experience and the satisfaction of seeing your pee streaming out in front of you can only fill you with gratitude. Wisdom my friends comes with age but only if you want it.
So there you are, the secret of my success is out. Feel free to share the simple pleasure that comes from observing the one simple rule of life. Don't piss into the wind.

Ten days with Mark Rashid and some other stuff.

Home at last after a 12 day break. Slept in my own bed last night which was such a relief. No painful springs coming through the mattress, and no drunks walking outside the window, and no police sirens throughout the night. The last 4 nights in that Watford B&B were a bit on the torturous side for my tired body.
We've been regularly watching Mark work for about six years now and we pretty much model our horsework on his. Mark is unique among horse trainers that I have ever seen in that he appears to genuinely never see the horse as a separate confrontational being. Every situation is dealt with from the point of view that the horse is trying his best with the information he has available, to give us what we want. There is never any attempt to bully anything into or out of a horse - everything that is done is done to help the horse in a way that the horse can logiclly understand, and always with the total aim of working without causing fear or confusion in the horse.
Because we have spent hours studying Mark's work, and years working ourselves trying to use a similar approach, it is always interesting when people start to ask questions along the lines of, 'well, how do you deal with your horse when he tries to take the mickey', or 'well, my horse is really naughty so....', or 'my horse is always trying to make a fool of me'. All these examples are concepts that are very very common amongst horse people, teachers and trainers throughout the world, but now to us, we see as complete and utter nonsense.
It is a fact that if you make it clear to the horse what you want him to do, and you offer the incentive of safety, security, and softness in return, then virtually every horse will willingly come through with the goods in the best way he can at the time.
The whole experience of studying in these clinics is very interesting - watching 20 plus different horses in eighty lessons over 10 days can feel a bit like being in a marathon at times - there aren't many people hanging in there like we do, and there are quite a few who don't stay long. But there is something going on which you can only really see over time. There is a theme underlying all the work - the theme of softness in the horse and the handler, and after a while you start to see it as the very real thing that is holding the whole thing together. To wander in and watch a couple of hours is obviously worthwhile, but the danger is you walk away with a few techniques in your mind, or some kind of snapshot judgement, instead of the real experience underlying the whole situation.
So that's the horsemanship, but there's more. Mark is a very interesting guy who makes no secret of the fact that there is more to life than horses. For him it is a way to be the human being he wants to be. Mark takes a very disciplined approach to what he does and also to quieting and training his mind. This is doubly interesting to me because I completely relate to what he is talking about in terms of the goal, and to a degree I use the same approach in the way I work.
But seeing Mark and the way he approaches his life always stirs stuff up in me way beyond the horses. For me (cos I am a lazy git) I have long ago abandoned all attempts at any plan of self-discipline in my life - I approach my life second by second without any code of behaviour or plan of action. I take every decison whenever it happens at the time it faces me with whatever information I have available at the time. Since I have been going along like this, so far things have been working out pretty fine really. Not a lot has changed in terms of what I actually do because actually I reach much the same decisions that I used to reach when I had a moral code or a plan of action. So for instance, here is an extreme example, suppose I get the chance to run off with a beautiful woman (dream on I hear you say), in the past I wouldn't have taken it up cos of my moral code - nowadays I wouldn't take it up cos of the pain and confusion it would cause (of course I don't know what i would actually do for sure until the moment I make the decision).
I no longer have to think about moral issues or make judgements about stuff I can't work out. I try to live my life from my heart and not from my mind. To me it feels like freedom and it so suits a lazy sod like me.

Away with the Fairies

My apologies to any readers of this blog for the utter lack of entertainment you will find within it.
No excuses really - I'm just one in ten billion human beings on the planet, sadly one of the more boring ones. I did hear a joke the other day but I can't remember it. I do have one joke but I think I may have used it in an earlier post. But for new readers here it is again.
How do you get a nun pregnant?

Anyway, I'm away this week watching and learning loads of useful stuff from my favourite horse trainer. Done four days so far and six more to go. I'm not going to bore you all with the details but suffice to say, and this is surely a good lesson for life too, generally speaking, the more gently you go the better result you get.

When I get back I will catch up and comment on all my buddies blogs, I promise.

Tom909s guide to Bossy Women

Dontcha just love em!
So here are my top four rules of how to deal with bossy women. And just remember, I am a man of some experience in this area - right now I have my wife Sarah, my SL girlfriend Rosie, and Pammie, plus my two daughters all going at me.
Hopefully these rules will be of use to all you guys who, like me, just roll over far too easily when a pretty lady comes up to you and, oh so sweetly, tells you what to do.
Rule number one, which is an absolute must, for god's sake never ever let it get to the list stage. Once you have a list I'm not sure there is any way back. It is a very basic fact of life that there is no end to a list of jobs, so don't even try.
Rule number two, and this is also very important, hand over all power on any decisions that make no difference - with some women just this simple act alone is enough to fulfil all their bossy needs.
Rule number three, if things start to get bad and you start to get really serious instructions to do difficult stuff, one very important tactic that can be very effective, is to just say yes, promise some imminent action but kind of not do a lot. This is by far a better approach than going in for a confrontation that you will almost certainly lose.
Rule number four, always be real generous with the love you give to your lady. This can deflect so much hassle, and they like this so much they often forget how good you are at doing all those little annoying jobs around the place.

A love letter to Pammie

Dearest Pammy

I know I've kind of covered this before a bit but I still think about it a lot. I guess it's because when I read your posts I see how your life is and has been so different to mine, and yet somehow we are dear friends. I will never change for anyone, not even for you Pammie babe, so I take my hat off to you for not judging me and for accepting me as I am.

I dont know if you are interested or not but here are some key points from my life so far. Really I'm doing this so that you can maybe get to know me better, and get a bit of a picture of why I am like I am - no other reason - and certainly I accept that in the great spectrum of human existence, my life has been an utter privilege.

At the age of 13 I first got drunk (on rough cider)

At the age of 17 I had my first girl, and 'All you need is Love' was released
At the age of 18 I smoked my first joint, dropped my first acid tab, and my first son was born
At the age of 20 I kind off started to realise that the real important stuff going on in this life was within me.
At the age of 21 I was sitting on a beach in India stoned out of my brains
At the age of 22 I gave up using drugs (almost anyway)
At the age of 23 I got married and my first daughter was born
At the age of 28 I had four beatiful children (5 if you count my first son)
At the age of 30 I was divorced
At the age of 31 I married my present wife, and our son was born
At the age of 45 I met my first son who I had only ever seen for two hours when he was one.

So Pammy, that's enough of this self-indulgent crap. I just wanted you to know why I think the way I do. I have so loved my life so far.

love

Tom909

One day in History

Wake up at 5.45.
Sit for one hour focussing my mind away from thought and onto the life within me.
Get up and log in to Second Life. Spend two hours talking to my friend who had just been dumped by her SL boyfriend. Couldn't really cheer her up much but arranged to talk again at lunchtime.
8.00 Take my wife a cup of tea in bed.
Have my breakfast - two slices of home-made organic wholemeal bread with organic spread and marmalade on, and two mugs of tea.
Go outside and feed the lambs. Bring my horse in and give him a feed. Spend about an hour grooming my horse and trimming his feet. Do a really good job.
11.00 Have a coffee.
Sharon and Maureen arrive to work with the horse they are buying from us. I help them for a while. We longline the horse up the road to get her used to traffic and to teach her to walk forward on cue.
1.oo Spend more time with my SL friend - she is a lot happier now. My wife Sarah brings me my lunch which I eat while I am sitting at my computer.
After lunch we go out and I trim Sarah's horse's feet and then we go and worm a sheep that has an obvious problem - being organic we are not allowed to routine worm, we can only worm in obvious cases of necessity. I feed the cats in the barn.
Sarah spends the rest of the afternoon working on her book on the computer. I do some research into some machinery we need on the farm. I feel tired so I take a nap - I've been doing this now for a few days, I'm really starting to enjoy my afternoon naps - my Dad naps too so I feel good about it.
Wake up and check my blog and those of my blogging friends, especially Vicus who is one of my oldest buddies. See this thing about a day in history and decide I should join in.
Spend an hour writing my post.....
For the purposes of completing a day, the rest of the day is what I think is going to happen. If it is dramatically different I will tell you tomorrow.
Sarah is going well on her book so I make supper. Tonight I make a rice and vegetable cheese bake - yummy! We eat pretty much 100% organic and we love our food. Afterwards we have a smoothy made from banana, apple, yoghurt and soya milk - yummy.
After supper Sarah watches telly and I go on Second Life. Just so you know, I have a little character on there who I roleplay - he is quite like me in some ways but quite different in others. I meet up with my SL friends, especially my little character's SL girlfriend Rosie who comes from Arizona USA. I love these little friends that I have on SL - they come from all over the place and we have really good chats about all sorts of stuff. Sometimes it is so funny I role about laughing, other times it is very sad, other times it is serious, sometimes stuff about politics, or often philosophy with my friend Wolf. Most days we have lots of banter and lots of stuff about relationships. We know each other so well - it is frighteningly real at times.
Sarah goes to bed about 10.30 and by the time I get up to bed at about 12.30 she is fast asleep. I climb into bed and lie by her side. I listen to her breathing and thank God for giving me a wife I love and for allowing me to experience this creation.
I am soon fast asleep.

This post has been sent to - One Day in History - see Vicus Scurra for link.

Forty Three Women in 21 Days

Yes, that is the target that he is aiming for. And he is a virgin right now too.
So today we put our new ram in with his ewes. He has 21 days to do his stuff and then we back him up with another ram. The reason we do this is firstly, in case he is firing blanks, and secondly, in case he misses out on any ewes.
So anyway me and my mate Kyle were trimming the ewes feet, and men being men, we were discussing how we would get on faced with the same challenge, but with women not ewes you dirty minded sods. Kyle reckoned he could maybe get half way through the second day no problem. And of course I was thinking, two women a day for three weeks - I'd better take my computer or a good book to help fill in all the spare time.

WAR - FOR WHY

This is a video made by my friend Kelly from Arizona, who I met in Second Life.
It made me cry.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-2286920372780429587&hl=en

Bollocks, this should do it.

What can I say that's gonna change the world? Do you believe all that bollocks about a grain of sand?
The world is the world is the world. Ever changing but always the same.
Thus spake Sri Gobshiteananda

Bollocks, didn't quite make it long enough

This should do it - back shortly with a totally rivetting post (not).

Enough is enough

Sorry everyone, got to change the front page. Fed up of looking at that skanky little foetus now.

Pebbles's baby

Pebbles miscarried at four and a half months. She is absolutely fine.

It was a little filly foal.

Isn't nature incredible.

Friends, moi!

Since I started blogging and SL I haven't watched telly and I haven't read the papers. I very occasionally listen to the radio in the car (which by the way I drive as little as possible to minimise my carbon footprint - yeah I know, I'm an annoying environmentalist geek) but that is often so dull I whack a CD on. I am pretty out of touch with the media but I am still alive and having fun.

What is interesting is the number of friends I have in my three different worlds. And do you know, it's pretty much the same in each. In RL I have my missus who is my no.1 buddy who I share my life with, and then maybe three or four other people who I know I can turn to if I need to, like say if I needed some real big favour, and then maybe I have another dozen people who I am always happy to see and stop and spend some time with, so that's about fifteen people in all.

In Blogland I have Vicus who I always visit because he is my old buddy and when he is on form no-one can touch him (not that you'd want to), and then I have links to 16 more blogs, which is really about all I can cope with. There are a few others like First Nations and Piggy and Tazzy who I do want to link to, so that will make 19 in all - there's just an infinite supply of good blogs isn't there.

In SL I have four very close friends, who when we are online, just meet and chat all the time about pretty much everything. Then I have a bunch of maybe another ten aquaintances that I am really happy to spend my time with too. So that is 14 in total.

So what I am getting to is that my ideal social circle seems to be round about the 15 mark. Any more than that and I just can't give the attention needed to make it work properly. But most of all, to all of you out there who think I am a miserable grumpy old git, look at all the friends I've got - how nice is that!

And I wrote a whole post without swearing once - just for you Pammy!

Cherrypie, I cant get to put a comment on your blog.

Oh Babe, you are the most wasted totty on earth. There's some fucking stupid man somewhere having all the same feelings as you are.

Go Visit

http://romer365.blogspot.com/

Top post Anna

Helpful Twats

So don't try and tell me there is anything more important in this life than love. I had a blazing row on SL with this arrogant little shit who said I was a waste of space because I had no goals for my future. Little fucker, I nearly punched his lights out except I didn't know which keys to press.
And on top of all that the girl I was talking to flounced off too, saying it is a sin to not have goals. What the hell is that all about - is it some American thing or what!
Anyway, it got me thinking - that's what I do when I'm angry. And I do have a goal, and do you know what it is. I try to be a nice bloke NOW, and that is it.
And now I'm going to tell you what that little shit said that he is doing that is so great. He is planning to make something which will help mankind. And he is planning to make sure that when he dies he doesn't look back on his life and think it has been as insignificant as most people's lives that come on to the planet. And he wants people to know who he is and about the contribution he has made. Little twat - I haven't spat blood like that in years.
If you look at all the problems in this world they pretty much all come from twats like that. Quit trying to help me thank you very much, and if you must try and help me, then please, stop what you are doing with your crazy mind and start to feel that love in your heart. That my friend is the help this world needs.
Uuugghh - breath now.

The Missing Photo - at last!

Sorry guys, but surely you didn't think those tiny bollocks were mine.

A day on Dartmoor with a horny beast

Pictures of the Horny Beast

'I've enjoyed my day on Darmoor with a horny beast', said the missus as we drove back from Widecombe Fair today.

'Me too Babe', I replied.

We didn't win a single rosette - the judge didn't like our sheep today. But anyway we had a good laugh with our farmer friends. And as promised, here is a photo of me - not the greatest I know, but hey I'm not vain, not very anyway.

Sharing the build-up

I'll give you a clue guys.The main excitement is going to be a picture of me (sadly for the ladies, I will be fully clothed). The post will also include a full report with photos, of Widecombe Fair, our local village show. We will be there tomorrow showing some of our sheep.

Just so that you can share in the tension of the build up to the event, I will briefly tell you now about the sheep classes we will be entering. The breed we keep are White face Dartmoor's - they are a local minority breed with approximately thirty flocks in the whole world, all in this part of Devon. We are entering the pair of ewe lambs class, the pair of 2 tooth ewes class (one year old), and the pair of old ewe class. Unfortunately I didn't enter the Ram class but I can tell you, and there will be photographic evidence to back this up, they are very very horny indeed!

So get ready everyone!

I'm off for a couple of days

Just wanted to refresh my blog from that stale old post. Nothing to say but I will be back monday night with a hugely exciting post, I promise.
Thank you for reading my stuff.

Full on sex in Second Life!

On a 14" screen your avatar in SL is between two and four inches tall. You can design how he/she looks, how tall you want to be, how muscly, or how beautiful or ugly. You can select your own wardrobe, and if you like you can go out and buy designer clothes for yourself. You can also choose to be a non-human if you prefer.

As you can see by the photo I still live in the woods. I spend a lot of time here but quite a few people pass by so I have a reasonably busy social life. My main friend is still Wolf who hangs out here quite a bit too. Surprise surprise, it's not that much different to Real Life really - there are a whole bunch of people who are basically hanging out for relationships and sex. So I realised this quite early on (I'm perceptive me) and, being a bit of a 'Holy Jo', actually thought about pulling the plug on the whole thing. But I've hung in there and actually met some really cool people.

Anyway, as time has gone by I've worked out how this sex thing works - it is actually unbelievable, but the longer you hang out here it just kind of becomes normal. Scary huh! When you arrive in SL you have a one-dimensional skin and everyone can see that you are a newbie. After a while I went and bought a new skin because I could tell it was holding things up with the people I was meeting. While I was in the shop I clocked that you could also buy male genitalia. I got the very same with my new skin but not one that works. For extra money you can buy yourself, for want of a better word, a male member that actually works. They didn't tell everyone about that in The Observer article did they.

Even more bizarre, you get a control panel to drive it, and you can set it up to perform to your requirements. You can also set it up to be controlled by your partner.

So how does the actual mechanics of SL sex work - is anyone still reading this? Well, I went with one of my friends - by the way, she bought me this cowboy suit, it's cool isn't it - to a dance and I've managed to suss the whole thing out. In SL there are areas where you can find little coloured blobs, and if you activate them your avatar does what the blobs are programmed to do. So to dance with my friend I had to activate a blue blob and she activated a red blob, and then we were programmed to dance together. We moved from different dance to different dance - it was fun. So there you are - that's how it works. I'm presuming that in the same way that you can do different dances by clicking on different blobs, you can also, you know, do different things....

How strange is all that then, and it's all happening on a screen near you. Thank God I'm not some kind of weirdo who gets caught up in that kind of crap!
Love to all.

Dancing like my Dad

Well guys, I'm back from the wedding and actually, I enjoyed it. I wore my shoes in the church and then changed into my sandals, handmade by the local man-hating woman's co-operative, for the reception.
The wedding went well and the bride looked beautiful. There was a superb Welsh choir singing in the ceremony and to be honest, for a second there, my naturally cynical approach to almost everything almost melted away. The reception was fun too. My youngest son, the best man, who is on the verge of stand-up, had everyone really going with his speech. In the evening there was a great covers band and with only a little help from minor stimulants I actually took to the dancefloor. Of course, I now dance like my Dad so it was important not to stay there too long. It was a five minute token gesture on my behalf, but had there been a little more Quo I would have definitely stayed a little longer - why oh why is everyone so snobby about the Quo - I love them.
So yesterday we played cricket in the garden all day long. Such good fun but boy, today I feel like I've been bale-carting for a week. I am knackered.

Bollocks to You...part two

Thank you all for commenting on my godforsaken blog. I am truly sorry I am such a grouchy old bastard.
This weekend I am off to my son's wedding. I am forbidden from wearing my birkenstocks but I have won the small concession of not having to wear a tie. As the years go by I am losing my edge - maybe that is why I am getting a bit grumpy. I just wanted to explain that underneath all the grumpyness is a really nice person - Vicus will vouch for that.
Anyway, got to go and do a load of jobs now for the missus. See you in a few days.
Love you all.
Mr Grumpy

Bollocks to you...

That was a high quality post so why aren't you commenting on it, you load of meanies. I'm getting more response from a bunch of cyber beings in SL than I'm getting from you lot. Do I care - of course I do - I'm gutted. Bare my soul, write my arse off, and what for exactly? Diddely shit!
Yes that's blogging. The highs and the lows, rolling with the punches, taking the good with the bad, yah yah yah...
love you all
Goodnight.

Second Life Update

Well, I've been here for about two weeks now and I am getting on fine. I live in the woods by a campfire with a friend of mine called Wolf. Wolf has the ability to appear in three forms - as a human, as a human shape but with wolf features, and as an actual wolf. Quite often when we are by the fire talking he sits around as a wolf - it's quite cool really.
I have two other friends (yes, I am about as popular there as I am here) called Sandi and Lochinvar. Sandi is an American girl and Loch is a Canadian bloke. They are both really nice and we have not too serious chats about how they are planning to make loads of L$s and set up houses and so on with their various ideas. I'm not going to bother with making money - I'm going to hang out for a rich woman and take it from there. I told Sandi and Loch that and they thought I was going to set up as a gigolo - imagine me doing that!
Actually, when I went in to SL I decided that I would allow myself to behave as badly as I wanted to, to make up for being such a goody in FL. But what I have found is that I am pretty much unable to be anyone other than myself, so here I am being all polite all over the place again, but in a slightly different environment. The thing that I am really enjoying the most is being able to not have any responsibilities - it's like being me before I had to house and feed my kids. I am free and I'm planning to stay that way. I don't think you can get women pregnant here so I should be ok on that one - don't get me wrong, I love my kids, but boy have I had to scrat around making a few bucks to keep them fed. Sleeping under the stars again is just great - I love it.

Bad Acid Trips - Part One

Between June 1968 and October 1971 I took 23 LSD trips. I kept a record of each one of them - in my pilots logbook. Sadly, I lost the book in the chaos of the time along with my grey felt hat, a superb long coat that belonged to my step-grandfather, and some great waistcoats that I have been pining for ever since.
Anyway this is the story of Trip no. 22.
I was in Istanbul with my girlfriend, Jan. We had made our way there overland and we had a vague plan to just keep going east and see what happened. I never felt that comfortable in Istanbul. It was the first time that we had come across a culture totally different to our own. As we went eastwards each country sort of prepared us a little more for what was coming next, but Istanbul was a big step up from Bulgaria (then a communist state with machine gun guards on the border posts - a rare thing in those days). We were staying on the roof of a hotel with a bunch of other hippies from here there and everywhere, and to be honest just going out on the street was quite an adventure. I remember Jan getting loads of hassle from blokes pinching her arse and stuff - basically hippy chics just drove some of those guys wild.
Anyway, we were up on the roof, it was dark and we still had to go out and get something to eat. All of sudden I started to feel really trippy. I was a bit scared because I had vowed never to touch acid again as it had been taking me a bit close to the edge. I kind of wondered whether maybe the dope I was smoking was a bit too strong but then I realised what had happened. As I'd made up my last smoke I'd literally licked out my dope tin and obviously in there were some crumbs from my last acid tab. Towards the end of 1971 some of the acid was lethally strong and that's what had got to me.
Before long I was flying. I was looking down across Istanbul and it was like a bloody firework display. And every now and then the chanting from the mosques would kick in which completely sent me off on one. I kind of acted tough in those days so when Jan said, 'let's go get something to eat', I just said 'OK', and off we went. I only got about 100 yards out of the hotel before I decided I couldn't handle it at all - it was like walking through one of those paintings where everybody is just weird. I went back upstairs and hid away in my sleeping bag for several hours until the acid subsided.
After the trip there is always (I'm sure it's not 'always',') a beautiful mellow period as your mind readjusts to normal mode and you kind of feel really clean inside. I remember watching the sunrise across the Bosphorous. Cool, I enjoyed most of being a hippy.

Real Life, Cyber Life, and Second Life.

So Pammy wants a new post, so here it is. Mark does too, but when Pammy asks, I do.
She started off pretending to be my stalker and we just got fond of each other. In real life we'd never get on - I'm a foul-mouthed dirty old hippy with no idea, and Pammy is a clean living religious girl. I think she likes my soft heart. I like her soft heart too, and her sharp wit, and of course, the way she looks over her glasses, and she is an uncontrollable flirt which I love.
In real life Pammy has a great husband and four beautiful kids. In real life I have a beautiful wife. We have one kid, Josh, who is now 23. I have four other kids by my first marriage, Fran, Jake, Kate, and Henry, and another kid from before that, Paul, who is 37. I have four grandchildren, Hope who is 8, Robin who is 5, and Freddie and Gabe who are 8 weeks and 5 weeks only.
Pammy is a writer and so am I. I also work as a horsetrainer.
So there you are, that's real life and cyber life. But have you heard about Second Life. It's where you can have a whole new persona. I signed up but unfortunately my present video card is not good enough to support the programme. I am looking into an upgrade. The great thing about Second Life is that say you were a fat ugly useless bastard (in your mind, not mine - I would never say that about someone, well, not to their face anyway) and you fancied having a life where you were a really attractive successful person, you can do it there. I am planning that my persona in Second Life is going to be completely free of all convention, free of morals, and free of all concepts and rules about life. I am going to just completely go for it and take this world for all I can get. In real life I do feel free, but my freedom is an inner freedom. In my external life I am fairly strict with the way I live. Pretty much my only rule is 'do unto others as you would have done unto you', which kind of limits things in some areas as I really try not to crap on other people in any way shape or form if I can avoid it.
So no robbing stuff, no shagging around, no telling lies, no crapping on other people to better my situation. But I've always wondered what it would be like to be a total hedonist, so if you end up in Second Life and come across me, just be on your guard. I'm going for it BIG TIME!

Working on a Sunday

After the runaway success of my last post I feel OK about putting up a post about horses. I know I will take a severe drop in popularity but I hope someone somewhere enjoys it.

Sunday morning and I’ve got work to do. For the last five days we have been working with our friend Jo and her horse Trevor. Today is the last session so here’s hoping it all goes well.
The thing that goes on with Jo and Trevor is that when they come across exciting situations Trevor loses the plot and Jo gets really nervous about it. The way we work with this is to try to get the rider and horse more together as a team, so that the horse starts to look for his safety from the rider rather than thinking he has to take care of himself. Of course this also means that the rider has to offer the horse this safety too – if she is a bundle of nerves and freaking out all over the place then the horse won’t take much comfort from that.
The job has been going well. Yesterday Jo really started to get to the point where she was there for her horse, and Trevor began to realise that he did not need to be on ‘red alert’ whenever he didn’t feel safe. I’ve taken some photos to show you the difference between the two situations.



Here is Trevor completely ignoring Jo. His neck is all braced up, he is leaning on the bit and he is basically 'out there'!

Here is Trevor standing softly within himself, volunteering not to pull on the bit and happy to relax on a loose rein.


Here is Trevor going in walk with the same soft feeling, on a loose rein and listening to Jo's every word.

Once we have started to get this way of being established in the horse’s mind in a smallish safe place we then move out into a bigger space and show him that it works out there too. The trick is that the horse loves this feeling and if you offer it to him he chooses to take it – it’s often not as big a job as you would think it could be. Then we just keep going until we get out there into the big wide world and the horse is still feeling good.
OK, you’ve rumbled me – this post isn’t just about horses – this is the way I deal with the world too? That’s why I like working with horses because the work we do with them reminds me of how I try to run my life too. If I feel good and safe within myself I can cope with most things, if I feel a bit crap and 'out there', then everything begins to get to me.

Good Things from the USA

In order to redress the balance in my own mind, and to help me remember that the world is in perfect balance, here is a short list of good things to come out of the USA.

The Captain
Frank Zappa
Janis Joplin
Jimi Hendrix
Joan Rivers
Frazier
The Simpsons
Mark Rashid
Tom Dorrance
My horse's ancestors
Bob Dylan
Ken Kesey
Gerry Garcia
Timothy Leary
John McEnroe
Allen Ginsberg
Jack Kerouac
Grace Slick
Google
Muhamed Ali
Oliver Stone
Clint Eastwood movies
Lee van Cleef
City Slickers
When Harry met Sally
Sleepless in Seattle

And then of course my cyber buddies, Fronty, Carmentza, Annaroma, and Superbabe Hot Pammy.
So there you go - it's not all bad.

The Sunday Morning Sermon

I may have already mentioned that I come from a family steeped in religious history. Among my recent ancestors I can claim two parsons and a nun, and my Dad trained to be a priest but bailed out before signing up. Most of my Dad's more recent side of the family have spent lifetimes wandering between the church of Rome and the Anglican faith - I spent my early childhood going to Catholic church every sunday, and I spent one year in a Catholic school run by nuns.
At the end of this one year, when I was ten, my mother threw in the towel with Catholicism and took us to live about thirty miles from my Dad; I never went to church on a Sunday again. Three years later my Dad threw in the towel on Rome himself and signed up with the C of E. Thirty-six years after they split up my Mum and Dad got back together and ten years later they are still ok. My Dad still religiously attends church and my Mum now hangs out a bit with the Quakers.
I detest religion of all kinds - maybe that's a bit strong, but I am definitely not a fan. I can see that it does help some people to get through life, but what I don't like about it is that it is dogma. A load of theory and rules made up by humans to give them some kind of framework to hang their lives on. I'm not even going to go into the heaven and hell, laws of karma, reincarnation, eternal life with virgins (never mind fucking limbo) speculative bollocks - how much chaos has all this rubbish caused throughout our history.
But I'm pretty convinced this awesome creation is not just some accident of nature, and even if it is I do acknowledge the divine experience (possibly slightly too much acid there, do I hear you say). Go there and you won't need a load of religious bollocks to help you through your life. From there everything good comes.
Well it is fucking Sunday isn't it!

Sleepless on Dartmoor

I usually sleep pretty well but what with Pammy running off with Krusty I'm in a bit of turmoil at the moment. Anyway I came downstairs, made a cup of tea and tuned in to Radio Devon and blow me they were doing a phone in about hairy ears. Well, as you know this is one subject I am qualified to talk about, so I got on the line and had quite a discussion about the pros and cons of the whole situation. I suppose I was talking for maybe five minutes - we covered a fair bit of ground. The main two points I wanted to make were the obvious advantages up here on the moor re. the weather conditions, and secondly how surprised I am at the number of ladies who find ear hair a turn-on.

Anyway, I thought no more of it really and I was just about go back to bed when there was a knock on the door. It was only Meg Ryan who had been driving nearby and just happened to have heard me talking on the radio. Of course I asked her in and she started to explain that when she heard my voice she realised that I was the only one for her and as she was in the area she decided to look me up.

Straightaway I sensed danger on many levels. I mean, she's done this before so how could I know that she was serious. Also I know she can be hell of a noisy when she gets cranked up and what with the missus upstairs asleep I needed to be careful here. We talked for a while and she was just as sweet as she is on the telly. But she could see my dilemma. Could I just throw away 25 years of marriage because she liked the sound of my voice. We had a little hug and she drove off and I went back to bed. I can hardly believe that happened - I mean what are the chances, eh, eh, eh.....

Reading Books

While Vicus is away on his holidays perhaps this is an opportunity for me to step up to the plate (yes, the latest fucking jargon speak finally reaches Dartmoor) and offer visitors to my blog the opportunity to stretch their minds and offer their views on something a little more challenging than the topics that generally occupy my mind. Obviously I am normally more than happy to leave the serious stuff to Vicus thereby freeing me up to focus on such lesser issues as Big Brother or the World Cup.

I don't really do films and books, or music or anything arty farty or intellectual at all really - all areas of strength for my dear friend. Plucking information from the vast vortex that is his huge mind is an easy task for him. I did read a James Bond book when I was about thirteen, which I blame for causing the preference in my mind for woman like Ursula Andress and the like. Of course if I met a bird like that in real life I'd obviously shit myself. Apart from my missus of course (just in case she reads this post), I have always found it a bit of a problem communicating with what I guess you would call 'beautiful women'. I think it is because I know that they know that I am thinking ' I'd like to shag that', which after all is a perfectly natural male reaction, but also not the greatest basis for a normal 21st century western civilisation human to human communication. For some reason I always feel like I have to make a bit more effort to pretend that I'm not actually thinking that thought when it's perfectly fucking obvious that I am.

So there I am trying to behave as if they are just another person when in reality they are really hot. They must know that and they must know that every man they meet has roughly the same thoughts about them too. And then I start to think things like, maybe it's nice for them talking to me because at least I'm not just gunning for them and fawning around them just because they're beautiful. Dream on!

And before the WLF gets in the act, I do know this is all bollocks - apologies to them for the mind of the man.

Feeling slightly grumpy this morning

I have to write a new post for my blog. I have nothing to say, so no change there. Maybe I could write a list of ten things beginning with B that I enjoy shoving up my arse. God, where shall I start!

The house sans Grace

Catch the bilingual there, yeah.
I just love the twists and turns in the BB house. I have to say I was absolutely delighted when Gracie chucked that water over Saint fucking Suzie. God I'm really naffed off with all those frightfully sensible oldies headed up by the ever reasonable Richard and his new side kick middle class Mrs Suzie bloody balanced view.
I was warming to Grace before she left, and I think she did really well in her interview with the pregnant one. Now I'm with the delinquents all the way. I'm kind of hoping that things will start to fall apart a bit for the reasonables otherwise in a couple of weeks time we'll be left with the most boring bunch of prats you could ever wish to meet.
Mikey did a great job standing up to Nicky who is so weird it's hard to believe she manages to survive in the outside world. I'm just wondering just which division she is hoping to attract her footballer from - maybe the South Essex league would be a good place for her to start her search.
And my highlight of the weekend has got to be Imogen's diary room rant about the borings. Yep, I'm with you all the way baby.
Pete still looks like an out and out certainty to win. Glyn is in there though, and I think Imagon is playing quite a cool long term game.

Well, we got lucky there didn't we!

For a minute there I had visions of us not even making it through to the knock out stages. What is it about England when we play in these tournaments. It drives me crazy because we seem to be so cautious and we always look so lame out there.

Thank God at last Sven brought on Rooney and Lennon. Everything changed straight away. Suddenly we seemed to have a couple of players on the pitch who wanted to get something going. I just hate it when we sort of amble around like we've got all day. There's no way on earth we can win the world cup playing with that kind of approach. All that kind of 'I'm a well established international footballer' kind of attitude is just crap - we need to get those youngsters in there who will try their hearts out, give us something exciting to watch, and maybe surprise us all.

I'd keep StevieG in there of course I would, but I'd play him in the right position where he can scare the shit out of the opponents. John Terry is good too - I'd make him captain and that would free up the Beckster to play with a bit less responsibility. Mind you if I was married to Victoria I probably wouldn't be feeling that good about myself either. Is that why Peter Crouch is so bloody good at the moment, because of his hot little bird. Yes, it's true, yet again this post is descending into the gutter - I blame it on the readership, sensitive as I am I can't help but write for my audience.

Jo Cole is good too - I'd keep him in. We need players with flare and we need tryers. God, the times I've stood and watched Argyle playing like a bunch of wankers who don't give a damn. No, it just won't do and I'm not going to do it. That's why a bunch of lower league players put together as a national side can make us look poor - because we're sticking with a bunch of overpaid superstars who have lost their way.

Still we're through, and as everyone keeps saying, we'll struggle to play worse.

Gabe and Eggy Palmer

We drove across the border into Cornwall yesterday to visit my eldest daughter Frances and her two week old baby Gabe. Frances and her partner Wazza were completely exhausted already as Gabe has settled in to his nocturnal pattern of sleep all day and scream all night. Now, I've had a few babies in my time and I can just about remember those torturous nights, but I couldn't really come up with any easy solutions.

The midwife has told Frances that it is very important to wind the baby during the day because it is that wind that gets into the intestine and keeps Gabe awake at night. I got to thinking about that though - it doesn't make sense does it. Why doesn't the wind in the night get to his intestine the next day. Anyway I spent a lovely couple of hours carrying Gabe around. He really likes to just be next to someone, feeling their warmth and the movement of their body. I started to think about where he had just come from, nice and warm and soft, with no rough materials rubbing his skin, and how now, he's come out into this world and he has to get used to different temperatures and different textures, and being separate and on his own. There can't be any hurry for all that to happen can there. My daughter laughed at me when I told her to keep him in a nice warm little nest so he felt nice and snug. Give him a few months and he'll start to get used to how it feels to be in a little human body.

Hey, but what a palaver!

And then my mare Splodge goes and has her foal Eggy Palmer, and I find him in the field about two hours old, just standing by his Mum with not a care in the world. Three metres away there was an absolutely huge and perfect afterbirth - I lifted it into a bucket and put it in the hedge for the foxes to eat. Two days later Eggy is cantering around his Mum and looking pretty special.

Of Horses and Humans

What a weekend! We did a two day horse clinic up in Hampshire and one of the horses was a fierce biting horse. As usual he wasn't small either. He towered over me and to say I wasn't a little apprehensive would be a complete and utter lie.

I have this approach to horsework where I've kind of worked out that the last thing you want to add to a horse with a problem are more problems, so I always go in with the aim of showing the horse I am there to make things better, not worse. Anyway, this guy spent the first half hour trying to chew me up but every time he gave it a break I just stood there quietly to see if I could get him to decide he preferreed doing that to all the hassle of biting. Amazingly he eventually started to come through with a bit of peace which we managed to build on over the two days. He wasn't cured but we were starting to get a bit of work done by Sunday afternoon. Everybody could see that he might be ok which was really what the owner needed to know.

Sometimes it is easy to start thinking that the problems are there forever, so it is quite an important part of the whole deal when you can start to see some improvement. I think the owner went away feeling a bit more hopeful.

As much fun as the clinic was we were a bit sore to miss seeing Sezer getting chucked out of the BB house on Friday evening. Boy did that guy play it all wrong there. He so didn't need to say and do all that stuff that ended up getting him 91.6% of the vote , the most hated housemate of all time. Actually I didn't think he was by any means the worst of the bunch - I just think he didn't know that sometimes even though you can see things aren't right, often the best thing is just to shut the old gob up and walk away. I'm not sure all this 'let's get it out in the open' stuff is always the best way to go really. It's surprising how things will disappear if you just leave them alone instead of feeding them with even more crap. See the link with the horses here - I didn't mean it to happen but it's the same thing isn't it. Sometimes we just don't seem to know when to pull out of the deal and shut up shop.

Anyway, I caught last night's episode on repeat this morning and even more fascinating relationships are developing. The Scottish tranny is really stirring things up by walking in on the girls in the loo. She's quite a tragic figure really, saying how she dreams of being pregnant and really would like to have a baby. Then in comes Nicki who doesn't seem to quite know where trannies fit into things at all and starts to go on about how she will only ever be able to have a gay partner. I'm still trying to work out how she's working that out.

Then we had the champagne dinner party with the beatiful Imogen and the really tricky Richard. He's not quite clever enough to outwit her, but he may be right about her being boring. I reckon her sweet smile will compensate for that though. Ah, the intrigue of it all, roll on tonight for the next update.

My annual rant, and I'll have another if I want.

OK so you don't like Big Brother which is about real people and how they really behave, but you do like reading books about imaginary people and all the imaginary stuff that happens to them. I don't get that. So and so famous author really manages to give you the feeling of the character in his novel, and isn't it marvellous how he captures the atmosphere of the time, so he's really great and you all get really excited about it. But when you can actually watch the real unimagined true character of a real human being who actually exists and is not just in someones imagination then you're not impressed. It's a bit like going all swoony over a painting of a sunset when you can step out of your house and watch one for real.

I just get really pissed off with all the pseudo intellectual snobbery that surrounds reality TV. You know what I think it is in the end - it's because you can't sit around at your dinner parties and score points by discussing the finer points of how jolly clever some pretentious writer is blah blah blah. Sorry guys but real people interest me and figments of other peoples imagination don't. And I fucking hate books anyway.

And what about the new housemates who arrived last night - the scottish tranny and the blonde eye candy from London. Yes!

She is a top-spec Bitch

Yes it's that time again, thirteen glorious weeks of Big Brother. The early money is on Pete, the guy with Touretts. He just looks a million miles ahead of the rest of them, but you know, experience tells us things can change very quickly in the BB house.

Imogen, described by George as 'top-spec bitch' let herself down a bit by pairing up just that little too quickly, but it's beginning to look like she's pulling back a tad from that one. She is a beauty, and it's kind of strange that she puts herself about so much. In my 'sensible middle-aged man' mode I started going on about how, if she's not careful she'll just dissappear into a life of endless shagging around. That got me to thinking about the way things are today - you know, to find out if you like a guy you just go with them for a few days and see. It's kind off sensible really isn't it. Better find out then rather than the day you get married and you've never even spent the night together.

There are one or two others in the house who I like. The middle aged lady with the absolutely huge false boobs is actually quite a nice lady, although she is a little on the fragile side and is beginning to look slightly strange chasing the young boys. I quite like the posh but not that posh sloany bird whose mother gave her a £360,000 flat in London. She's paired up with MCP Mikey - he's actually quite a nice guy too except for his weird views on woman - she's now backing out of that one too!

Anyway, it's looking tough for Bonneh - she'll be out tonight - god knows what her highlights are going to be.

Don't tell my friends I've got a blog

Six months in blogworld and I'm still not convinced that this is a particularly cool thing to be doing. I'm not from New Zealand, I'm not from Canada, and I'm not on anti-depressants, so what the hell am I doing having a blog.

Now I don't want to sell Ruby

Four years ago we rescued Ruby. Now she has grown into a big strong horse and we have just started riding her. By the way that is not me riding, that is my friend Manny, he is a really cool rider.

Anyway we have far too many horses so we have to sell some. But today some people came to see Rubes and I just thought NO, she deserves the best and that means she has to stay here. Of course I know I will have to sell her but I so, so want her to go to a good home.

I find it really difficult to sell horses because I just know that there are so few people out there that know how to be with horses to make them feel good. You know, if you breed a foal or if you have owned a horse for a long time, when you sell them they have to get used to a whole new way that some other humans behave, and some of those people are just crazy when it comes to horses.

It's a bit like when you have to send your kids to school when all they have been used to is rational human beings with sound values, and then all of a sudden they have to deal with a whole load of crazy stuff like competition, success and failure, and ego, and power trips and all the bollocks that goes to make up our society. I really didn't want to send my kids to school but then I decided that they might as well get stuck in - sooner or later they would have to learn about the way people behave.

With horses it's a bit different - they can go their whole lives living in quite a small world. They can go from birth to death and never even realise that there are mad people out there. I know I'm sounding a bit self-righteous here, and obviously I could be completely wrong, but I'm pretty sure I know a happy horse when I see one - that's my job.

Progress on the gatepost.

Well, never mind plan B, it turned into one of those long running, ever-changing plans that is still evolving as I write. But it's going to look ok when it's done. In the end I decided to drill out the old post end from the the concrete and get a similar size post and fit it in the hole. God did I sweat drilling that motherfucker out of that hole - completely fucked up a brand new £9 drill bit, pretty much shagged out my old drill, and used about half a gallon of petrol in the generator. But now I have a whole new post cut from an old telegraph pole, fitting perfectly but standing slightly off the upright. Good result really, so I'm feeling pretty chuffed!
Next job is to repair the rails to the side of the new post, then clear up all the mess, and in a few days the whole episode will begin to fade into history.

Spring days on the moor sometimes bring tears to my eyes. I was watching a swallow perched on the weathervane, singing his heart out. When I get these sort of moments with nature it always takes me back to my childhood - the best bits of it - you know, sitting by the river watching my float, sun on my back, just waiting for the fish to go by. On really hot days we used to swim in that river by an old railway viaduct and now and again steam trains used to go by. Dr Beeching closed the railway in 1966. I disliked him intensely at the time. I went back there a few years ago and there was a 'Danger, bridge unsafe' sign up and the river was completely covered in weed.
Did you see that survey that said we were happier in 1957 than we are now? I think that's bollocks but I loved growing up in the 50s and 60s. Remember the Ford Anglia with the sloping back window - says it all really doesn't it!

Digging a hole on Dartmoor

Yes folks, make of that title what you will.
Some tosser broke one of my gateposts and at last I've got around to making a start on replacing it. Some of you may know that ideally one third of the gate post should be underground, so I'm looking to dig down about 2'9". I've got to about 2' and sod me, I've hit a huge lump of granite that seems to be connected to the earth's core. So now I have to initiate Plan B, which is use concrete to set the post in. I hate doing this for three reasons, I have to go into town to get the sand, chippings and cement, it costs money, and it is environmentally not the best thing to do.
I know on the great scale of things whether I go get and use a small bag of cement or not is neither here nor there, but my efforts to minimise my carbon footprint have become a habit with me now. It feels good that I am concious of my actions in this way.
Go for it everyone, especially you yanks - the planet is a beautiful place and we should look after it for our grandchildren's children.

I know you're not interested in old cars....

But I am! So what about this for a description of the Austin Allegro

'It leaked, its rear screen popped out if you jacked it up in the wrong place and, for some reason, it had a square steering wheel'.

Top marks to Surlygirl for reminding me about the square steering wheel. The Allegro experience was truly a privilage for those of you lucky enough never to have been near them. Unfortunately I did not ecape the hideousness of owning possibly the most embarrassing car ever made. It cost me £40 with three months mot - surely a bargain by anyone's standards. It was horrible and actually it was so bad I am not even going to begin cataloguing all it's faults.

It was my final British car - sadly I abandoned my patriotism in favour of more reliable motoring.

A tribute to the Hillman Avenger

Spurred on by the Surly Girl's correct identification of the Commer van as the one that looked like a guinea pig (possibly the favourite line so far on my blog) I have decided that it is time to write a long overdue tribute to the Hillman Avenger. Surely one of the most dull cars ever to grace our roads. I had three of them one after the other and the top price I paid was £200. The best ones were the mettalic paint ones - I had a shit brown one and then an electric blue one - I heard later that they were really pissed off that the metallic paint was 'too good'. My third Avenger, a white estate, rusted out in no time.

Mechanically they were brilliant. If you got the 1300 one it was very economical but the best thing was that they were totally DIY friendly. Inside they were disgusting - all cheap grubby plastic and absolutely no pretence or effort in the direction of luxury. And on the road, well no-one looked at you twice - you know how people check to see your number plate to see where you sit on the social scale, well with the Avenger you might as well have written on your face, 'I am a absolute tosser of total insignificance'.

A few years ago I spotted a nicely preserved Avenger with an 'Avenger Owners Club' sticker in the back window. I've googled it but to no avail. However I did find out that they are famous for their 'hockey stick' design back light assembly.

I also once owned an Austin Allegro....

Middle Class Blogland

Is there any other?
Blogland where we all try to be witty and cool. If I'm in the mood for it I can go along with it ok, but god when I'm not, it makes me angry.
Is there something inherently virtuous about being middle class. Reading fucking books and not watching reality TV. I hate the snobby bastards. Yes, I know I'm bitter - so fucking what!
On my Dad's side I come from a long line of clergy, and on my Mum's side I come from good farming stock so what went wrong I'll never know. I was fiercely left wing and anti royalist by the age of eleven and even now I struggle to remember that the fucking queen is human.
I think the final nail in the coffin for me was round about 1971 when I finally realised that 99% of the people weren't interested in love and peace and all they fucking wanted was a Mark 2 Cortina. I liked them myself and for a split second there I wondered if I perhaps should have made more effort to get my A levels.
The nearest I ever came to owning one was in 1976 when I almost swapped my Commer van for a Mark 3. The guy wisely backed out of the deal just as I was beginning to think that things were finally going my way. Those Commer vans were bad - the way they kind of went down the road with that big bulbous front sort of going from side to side, quite worrying above about 30mph. I can't tell you the overwhelming sense of relief I experienced when I finally got my Mark I Transit .

Links to other sites

Can I apologise most unreservedly for the lack of links to other blogs from this site. I have so far failed miserably to work out how to do it. I will take this opportunity to say that there are several blogs out there that I do visit and enjoy, and would like to link to. Is there some good reason for there not being a button that says 'add link' that then brings a box up to type in the blog you want to link to. That wouldn't be so difficult to organise would it (or have I maybe overlooked it). What the fuck is all this html stuff that I'm supposed to edit - sorry but that's poor in this day and age isn't it!

Involuntary and premature blogging

My heart goes out to those of you all too familiar with the unfortunate experience of peaking too soon. Not something that this blog can so far be accused of. Indeed if this is the peak, then I feel I must apologise most unreservedly for this whole wretched creation.
Can I say in my defense, had it not been for my grammar school education and my irrepressible urge to communicate through the written word, then none of this would have happened. The world right now would be a richer and more worthy place. Alas, given the opportunity to write at no cost to me and faced with the prospect of an infinite audience, I was unable to hold on a second longer. I'm sorry!

I just went to a fantastic blog called Vegan Lunchbox. Loads of fantastic recipes and all the kind of food I love to eat. I couldn't believe the profile of the lady who runs it. She was into buying food, cooking, sewing, knitting, home-making, her husband and her child. I wanted to see a photo of her - I desperately needed to know that she is absolutely huge and totally unsexy in every way. I so wanted to know that there is some advantage to having a wife who doesn't give a shit!

Can you believe there is a book called, 'I can't believe that's tofu'. I just might go and put that on my xmas list right now.

Would you vote Tory to save the world?

Do you know, I think I might. I don't know about you but as I get older I have moved from slightly to the left of Norman Wisdom to slightly to the right of Jemima Khan.
I'm going to write to the new bloke in charge of the tories and ask him if he can categorically give me his word that all the pronouncements that he has made so far, pretty much all of which I agree with by the way, will definitely be made law as soon as he gets in power. Of course he won't answer me and so fair do's, he won't get my vote.
There's no way I'd vote for Labour again. They disgust me. I've got this awful feeling that Gordon Brown is even worse than Tony Blair. Do you know, I was completely taken in in 1997 - I really believed they might be ok. God how I hate them now. I'm not even going to start on the way Blair got into Iraq - I think he should go and live there forever - what a **** .
So that leaves the lib-dems - I really liked Charles Kennedy mainly because he was good on HIGNFY. Now they've kicked him out I'm in turmoil.

Life in the slow lane, my arse!

And so on to today's major topic - the thrilling debate on 5live about whether it's ok to take the piss out of religions. I have to say I think it's a jolly good idea. In fact it's almost an essential act of mercy and compassion. Listening to that bunch of self-righteous, pious, pompous, dogmatic, narrow-minded zealots leaves the average listener very few options other than piss-taking. How glad I am to be re-assured by the politicians that today's new law will still allow us to get cheap jibes in at their expense.
Hari om.

This blog is crucifying my ego.

Do you know that the average time people stay on this blog is 24 seconds. And don't forget that's the average time, so some people are probably gone in less than ten. Is it really that bad you can make your mind up that quick and be out of here in less time than it takes me to have a pee. I know they don't make time like they used to but 24 seconds - I'm gutted.
I'll tell you what, if you've got this far why don't you just piss off now. I'd hate you to waste any more of your valuable time. And I promise you if my average time gets below 20 seconds I'm pulling the plug on this whole bloody show. Then you'll regret it - you'll never get to see my recipe for tofu stir fry, and that my friends, will be your loss not mine.

Of course I realise that what with one million new blogs worldwide coming on line every week, there's more stuff written than could possibly be read. I think I seriously need to consider whether I want my writings to fall into the relatively new literary category fondly labelled 'worthless blogshite'.

It reminds me of when in 1969, I went for an interview to study sociology at Kent University. I was completely stoned at the time and before the interview I took the opportunity to go for a crap and a top-up smoke. In somewhat of a daze I glanced around the cubicle and there above the loo roll was the statement, 'Sociology degrees - please help yourself'. I cruised the interview and got a really easy offer. Needless to say I don't remember what happened next, but something must have because to this day I have never been near Canterbury again.

A saying for every occasion

OK so I got over-excited about my shepherds pie. But now I realise that it is not such a cool idea to have a recipe as the first thing all my visitors see. Also as soon as I get on to the subject of Organics I lose all sense of intellectual and emotional balance. In this state I often carry out irrational verbal attacks on perfectly normal harmless people, like farmers and junk food manufacturers.
I used to work with a guy who always used to say - 'don't discuss religion or politics'.
Here's another good one of his too, 'live in the present but keep one eye on the future'.
He probably had a little saying for every situation that could arise in his life. Mr cliche man or what. I wonder if his house was covered with those awful messages that people put on their walls. Here's one from the wall of a bedroom that I slept in a few weeks ago. 'It is better to do something which you might later regret, rather than choose not to do something and later regret that'. Is that code for 'just go for it'.
I thought about that one for a while - it's the same thing both ways isn't it.
Maybe I'll just put my tofu recipe up - it's probably more interesting than this post.

My recipe for Shepherds Pie.

First thing is that as far as possible all the ingredients I use are organic. Eat organic - it's good for you and the environment. By buying and eating organic you won't be encouraging those ignorant gits to put poison on our earth because they are too damn lazy to grow things properly. Second thing is keep it simple - good food tastes good without a load of messing about.

300g OG green/brown lentils
an OG onion
5 cloves OG garlic
a big OG carrot
1/4 tin OG chopped tomatoes
1 kg OG potatoes, I think Desiree are the best variety for this pie.
1/2 cup of OG milk
OG miso, yeast extract or marmite.
OG tamari
100g OG cheddar cheese

OK, cut the carrot into smallish cubes and steam them. Cook the lentils in about four times their volume of water mixed with the water from the steamed carrots. Cooking in a pressure cooker saves time (and fuel) but be careful not to cook the shit out of them. They need to be just cooked, whole and just turning slightly to lentil gravy. What you're after here is a fairly thick lentil stew - definitely not watery at all.
Fry the onion and the garlic in olive oil till it is nicely browned. I'm quite generous with the olive oil - I like it.
Add the lentils, tomatoes and carrots to the onions and garlic and stir it all together. Add a small teaspoon of marmite. If you prefer to use miso instead of marmite you can use tamari, which is salty, to make the lentils more tasty. Keep the whole mix simmering until you're ready to make the pie.
Get the potatoes going in the pressure cooker. When they are cooked, strain the water off, then add the milk and mash them up until they are fluffy.

Put the lentil mix in a flat dish and using a fork spread the mashed potatoes evenly over the top. Go right to the edges of the dish so that the lentils are completely covered. Grate the cheese over the potatoes and put the pie in the oven on gas 5 for about 20 minutes.

Serve the pie with thick onion gravy and a huge serving of full-on organic spring greens.

NB. when I say 'gits', in this case what I really mean to say is 'our dear brothers and sisters who as yet sadly lack the conciousness to look after our planet properly'.

Still in Xmas mode!

I do like a nice exclamation mark! Gives the sentence the importance that it deserves don't ya think!
So the end of Xmas is in sight and I will soon be back working like a man possessed. But right now I'm doing the minimum, a bit of mucking out and even that I'm doing with a sort of 'I'll do it properly tomorrow' kind of attitude. Truly if I want to succeed in this life, in a worldly sense that is, then more effort is required. But some things cannot be changed - a lazy sod like me cannot become a dynamic ambitious seeker of fame and fortune just because a new year has begun.
I am keeping an account of how many opportunities I miss to make money this year. So far, and this is just the ones we have spotted, I am down over £200 and we are only four days in. How can I be so crap. Well, I've undercharged on a couple of jobs, I've failed to book in a couple of virtually dead cert jobs, and I've failed to sell at least two things that people definitely wanted to buy off me.
But I have done some good stuff too. I did some good work with Ruby (one of our horses) yesterday, and I've got a couple of emails telling me that things are really going well with a job we did on New Years eve. And last night I cooked a really good Shepherds Pie (vegetarian) - this has now become part of my cooking repertoire bringing the total different dishes I can do to five. I'm thinking about that pie and getting really hungry. See ya.

New Years Day and not a lot on. Plenty to do but I've just got into the swing of being a lazy sod who continually eats crap. Still that's Xmas for you I guess.
I'm going to leave the title the same for a while - no-one ever reads it anyway so it's a bit of an irrelevance - Oh my God, does my blog mirror life itself! Seriously, you know I don't mean that - life is of course a great opportunity, grab it with both hands and enjoy every second.
Happy New Year to any wandering soul that passes by this way.
Love and Peace
Tom
PS We went out yesterday on a job. This young girl thought her horse was collapsing on one side. I was so chuffed when we got it all sorted out. I'm not one for making resolutions but it would be really cool to go through a whole year working as professionally as we did yesterday. I get such a buzz from stuff like that.