Here endeth the lesson

The problem with feeling good is that it may be hard to recognise.
Where did your template come from? Good compared to what exactly?
You may need to feel bad to remember what good is.
That's life. Ups and downs.
Flux.
But all ups and all downs make people weary and dissatisfied at some point. It's one of the prices of humanity for all but the luckiest or dullest of people.
Yet flux allows the human spirit to influence outcomes.
You can choose your universe.
Flux allows you to spread your wings should you choose to express the freedom others have bought for you.
You may feel life should be more. You should be better appreciated. You haven't acheived your potential.
It might make you say, have an affair or bet on a horse to inject some flux , some excitement, ignoring the consequences. You might do something else of equal fun and self-destructiveness.
Go ahead. Enjoy. But own the consequeces like a badge of honour or a licence to kill.
Then ask yourself, am I feeling good now?
When you have done that, come back and read these final sentences.

Because next, it's time to evolve. To know yourself well enough that you know the answer to how you will feel before doing acting.
That's probably what they call emotional maturity.
It frees up more time for reading and watching 24.

Performance Notes

Comedians, when wearing a comedy moustache, don't forget to place it slightly wonky and have one half of it fail to stick.
Look slightly embarrassed as if you are thinking of sacking the props girl, struggle to restick repeatedly and wait for hilarity to ensue.

Ode to Mealtime

I don't want to know what my dinner has eaten
Be it milk-fed veal or corn-fed chicken.
I don't want to eat what they taste their food with.
So it's no tongue for me, it's theirs for the licking.

I don't want to know if they have nasty habits.
Or if they don't care for carrots or if they're at it like rabbits.
They may have been unselfish: no anger, no me-time.
Just as long as they are ready in time for my teatime.

I don't want to know if they walked on air
After a glass of champagne or an anniversaire.
As long as they weren't die-hard vegetarian.
Or walked with a lead. Or were born by Caesarean.

I don't wish to know if they lived for walkies
Or if chasing a ball was their favourite hobby.
It's just I know what I like, and given the choice
I'd prefer not to saute Greyfriar's Bobby.

I'll lose not a wink if I miss their birthday,
So if they have a name, please try to resist
Furnishing all that personal info.
I don't put turkeys on my Christmas card list.

I don't need to know their talents and facets
Whether leading hands or supporting players
My dinner's personality isn't one of its assets,
It's nothing to me to have so many layers.**

**(But if they've won awards, I don't wish to be hasty.
It might be a prize for being very tasty! )

The unique animal instincts granted to only a few
Won't affect me, they'll still go in the stew.
There's no reason to think this should be a democracy
Unless it improves the taste of hypocrisy.

I don't need to know the look on their faces
If they were terribly loving, if they had airs and graces.
If they wrote a great novel or started a charity
Do I have to remind you it's not about parity?

The barbequed starter is just for the few who'd
Better not smoke unless they've been skewered.
But as for the main course, it won't bother me
As long as they weren't on 'Last Chance to See'.

They may have been heroes
They may have been sinners
They may have been lovers
They may have been winners
But I'm hungry now.
And it's been a long day.
I don't want a relationship.
With my dinners.

Original sins

I’m going to write a movie.
It’s about a doctor.
Whose called out of retirement.
To make one .... last..... diagnosis.
What do you think?

(He can have a quirky autistic sidekick if you like)

Errors of the past

Diagnostic coding has it's place but if you are forced to label everyone who comes through the door there are going to be tricky times. Most patients of primary care (family medicine) do not have a clear diagnosis. Or don't have one... yet.
I went through a phase many years ago of coding (with the nearest most relevant code) those people I could find nothing wrong with as "Fit".
Waking in a cold sweat a few years later as my subconscious reviewed this process in a less than timely way, I realized that a "fit" is of course a "seizure, perhaps due to epilepsy.
So for those inconvenienced by my coding on their medical records say during application for an HGV licence or trying to get into the army, well, as we used to say at school:
Soz!

Playground philosophy

I was accused of being an idealist today.
To be honest, that's not particularly uncommon.
But I am occasionally accused of being a cynic.
That's not particularly uncommon either and I rather enjoy my ambiguous status.
But while I regularly bathe in both these labels, which one is true?
In the words of Harry Hill, there's only one way to find out!

I rarely accuse others of these things.
What use is it? Is it helpful? Do people appreciate the insight? Generally, no. They are just labels. They are useful for dismissing people's outlook on life if you are the sort of person who likes the way that feels, regardless of their perhaps hard-won credibility.
It's a playground thing, subtle bullying, one-upmanship, points-scoring bullshit. "Well that's just because you're...[fill in the adjective]". "You smell". "No, you smell". Unarguable.
It's just done in a more sly, more adult, more subtley sophisticated manner.
Don't get me wrong, it's NOT sophisticated but it may fool the casual observer.
It's still playground stuff. It reminds me of being asked my a fellow pupil who was flicking through a biology book whether or not I had a "scotrum" at school.
It sounded nasty so I denied it (even if he had not mispronounced scrotum I may still have said no) but my denial was followed by mild hilarity as I denied the existence of my genital bag.
So what's going on? How can you be an idealist and a cynic?
Suffice to say, it's possible. It's possible just by saying, rather obviously, that these qualities apply to different areas or life.
But was the label that well thought out?
I don't think so.
But surely this is a useful exercise, no?
Well, I'll tell you.
It only says something about your accuser .
It really does not say anything much about you.
You've been here before. That sign post up ahead... the destination ... is "it's not you, it's them". However sophisticated their name calling becomes, it's a thin veil and, unless humorous in delivery which would vindicate it, then it's vapid and pointless.
So they can stick that in their pipes and smoke it.

Pillocks.

Office Protocol

When you work in an office, there may periodically be times of what can only be referred to as chat.
Granted, it is not to be encouraged but nevertheless these precious moments of lucidity will occur. Even prisoners get 15 minutes in the yard or a soft job in the library.
However what you need to know is that there is an unwritten protocol to these episodes.
For example, when someone brings up the economic crisis in a gentle way ripped from the headlines such as, oh I don't know, that Borders the book chain is going out of business and closing all its UK branches, a suitable response is NOT to exclaim...
"Oh no, where are all the lesbians going to go?"

Tune in again next week for more office-related advice.
You'll know more when I do.

School Discipline

I hate to get on my high horse but I am strong proponent of the policy of 'Education, Education, Education'.
I believe the government has invested a great deal into this policy but still, every time I visit the Internet, the outrageous number of Naughty Schoolgirls that greets me beggars belief.
They bounce on to my screen with what can only be viewed as minimal searching.

Not only are they very naughty, but they seem to want me to punish them.
Me!!
Like I don't have other things to do.
And as if that isn't enough, they expect me to pay for the privilege.
It's no wonder we need an election.

Irritations that antihistamines don't touch

Can we just release all the never-seen-before Beatles memorabilia and be done with it once and for all?

 

Please!

 

 

And while I'm on one, you know that movie 'The Man Without A Face' with Mel Gibson.

Well, he had a face.

Granted there was some mild scarring on one side of his cheek. But the other half of his face was pure Mel Gibson.

 

I don't see the problem.

Is this the worst rhyme of all time?

Goosey goosey GANDER,
Whither shall I WANDER?
Upstairs and downstairs
And in my lady's CHAMBER.

Jesus H!

Penguin Tornado (n) – the sharp suck that is given immediately after biting into a biscuit that reduces the chance of crumbs falling onto tables, shirts etc and increases the chances of them landing in your gob.

 

Comms difficulties

Have you ever had one of those days when even your spellcheck has no idea what you're talking about ?

If you want to get a..head

I saw a chap running for the Metro today. He was dressed like a City gent. As he had missed the doors, he decided to deprive us of the satisfaction of pulling away with him still on the platform. (This is always a lovely moment that makes my day, the enjoyment being generally proportional to the amount of effort made to try to catch the train).
He stuck out his brolly and the door trapped it long enough to wrangle the doors and force them open. As he joined us, he beamed his (not quite enough) embarrassment from the top of his pinstriped suit. But although he got in, his satchel (I know, satchel!) was trapped.
He was a young guy so either the pinstripe-satchel combo was an affectation or he was posh. Anyway it is not important for the tale, so I'd ask you to overlook it.
It was jammed sufficiently tightly for the doors not to open. Away he struggled. The doors-closing buzzer had long since silenced. Anticipation of velocity was in the air. As a casual observer I was hungry for blood. (I had forgotten my sandwiches).
Down the years I have seen a few trapped customers in the Metro and even forced the doors for a couple. It is tougher in London where the doors close more angrily and with more impatient power. That's where I saw the best such episode last year.
A guy was struggling to get off the Tube. I cannot recall why he was late to alight (you don't get a lot of opportunity to use that word so indulge me). I think it was just a tardy decision.
He got off but just as the perfect moment, his hat blew off in the rush and landed on the floor of the carriage as he arrived on the platform just ahead of the closing doors. Off went the train with his headgear. Nothing to be done.
OK, it wasn't the end of the Wrath of Khan but surely an equally helpless moment. Nothing could be done but watch through the glass as his hat took the Tube to Heathrow. (And no, it did not belong to Bono).
Back at the Newcastle Metro, eventually the driver noticed the gaoled satchel and pressed the satchel-release button. The door briefly opened and off we went, but not before the Geordie driver came over the tannoy with a timely, "That was clever wasn't it?".