Time to Travel.

And we're off. Newark for New Years eve and Norfolk for New Years Day. If it's as much fun as there was alliteration in that sentence we'll have a great time!

And Channel 5, if you're going to run a competition, even a very easy one so everyone can get it right, at least spell it Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer not Rudolf!

Hope you all have a good New Year.

Happy Christmas

Happy Christmas to you all.

Time for Crumpets, Scrambled Egg and Smoked Salmon.

Beef Wellington later with Christmas Pudding to follow.

Mmmmm!

Coming Apart At The Seams!

I am. Literally.

There is a problem with having major abdominal surgery. They have to cut through muscle and other internal offal. It takes time to heal. In the case of the Rectus Abdominis Muscle it can take two years to heal. That is the muscle that turns into a six pack. Mine's not going to. I have had a cold and cough for the last 5 days. So there I was on Sunday, gasing for air whilst coughing when I suddenly thought, "Hello, that doesn't feel right!". I developed a slight bulge on the left hand side of my stomach. Not a problem, if I didn't look I couldn't see it. So last night it started to hurt. Not much, but a bit like indigestion. This morning I thoought I better let the doctor have a look at it. She did. For about 2 seconds.

I've coughed myself into a hernia!

The area where they cut through for the operation in March has given way under the pressure of coughing, a problem that is not uncommon in post abdominal surgical patients, although I could see in her eyes that she was trying hard to find a way to introduce lardarse into the conversation as well.

And the answer is..... do nothing or have another little op. I'm going to opt for doing nothing for the time being. Well, that's not quite true. I'm not sure my adonis-like physique has been improved by an extra bulge, so I think it's time to actually go on the diet that I keep threatening. As soon as I've finished the half eaten packet of choccie biscuits and the bag of chocolate eclairs.

Part of me wishes it had happened during a bout of jollity. I would much rather report that I actually split my sides laughing.

Dangerous Work

I bought my poppy the other day. The nice lady got the poppy and the pin and put it on for me.

"I'm sorry" she said "I have to stick it on for you cos health and safety insist we do it"

"Why's that?" I asked

"In case you hurt yourself with the pin and sue me!" She replied. Eyes rolling.

So I am buying a poppy to remember all those who have gone to war and died to give me freedom and I'm not to be trusted with a pin!

Sleep Deprivation

Well, it's a week since the show and I'm still recovering. I must be getting old.

Got to get myself together for Thursday though, Singing backing vocals at a blues gig.

I must be mad!

Another Opening of Another Show

A tiring week coming up. We open in Pinafore on Wednesday. It has become the show from hell.

We started with one director, who was brought in from outside. Some of the members didn't like him, and although we don't know exactly what happened, his position became untenable and he "left".

One of the members stepped into the breech and started correcting everything they perceived wrong. With 4 weeks to go. We are now putting on something that would work as a school production for 5 year olds. Which to be fair, is who she teaches.

To go into the rest of it would take too long. We won an award last year for best musical. We won't this year.

There is a possibility I am going to Direct next year. They won't fucking know what hit 'em. I've directed before. I don't own a pair of kid gloves!

An Evenings Entertainment

Presently surrounded by young ladies discussing lingerie and, what in the idustry is known as "bedroomwear".

I don't know how I cope!

T'good Old Days

Graybo, (for it is he), linked to a post about Blogging in the old days.

Yep, proper blogging back then. Discovered I started May 2001. We had to be up in the morning at 5:30 to shovel coal into the blogomotive and connect all the rods between the hammerboard and the interwebnetoscope. Once you'd done that it was 4 hours to type just one word. They've made it too easy for everyone now.

As for joining Twitter. I don't even know how to go about getting a flock of singing amazonian trumpet birds, so I'll avoid that.

I'm a Medical Marvel, Me!

I had a check up at The Royal Marsden last Friday. Just routine, but for the first time since the op I met my consultant surgeon.

He has confirmed that the biopsy on my lymph nodes did show a trace of cancer. Smaller than a pinhead. I already knew that. What he was so "excited" about, and he was, is that I am the first person who has a) had a sertoli cell tumour and b) they have found a trace of cancer on the lymph nodes.

Up till now he could only advise that it was a possibility. Now he can say it's happened. Those who had the op before me made the right decision as if the cells had seeded they wouldn't have been seen but would have grown at a later date.

It makes having the op worthwhile for my own health and for others.

I admit, it does make me feel warm inside. Maybe it's a bit egotistical. I don't know. But I feel like I have advanced cancer knowledge and will help others in the future to protect their health.

And I've been written up. In a number of journals. And I'm the subject of lectures now and in the future.

And now there is one mother, presently holidaying in Blackpool, who has been proved right when she said her son was special. Just not in the way she'd hoped.

Smelling of Roses

Our local sewage treatment plane, Mogden Lane, are holding drop-in sessions.

Think I might give those a miss!

I think he's telling fibs!

Normally I don't buy croissants from supermarkets because basically, they are crap. A bit like southern fish and chips. However, for reasons I shaln't go into here I ended up with a box of Tesco Finest Croissants.

The famed chef Raymond Blanc, the only man whose French accent has got stronger the longer that he has lived in England, endorses not only these but also their Pain au Raisin and Pain au Chocolat.

All three carry exactly the same endorsement bar the name of the item. It goes;

These are the best .......... I have tasted outside of my own kitchen!

Really?

Monsieur Blanc is, as already mentioned, a Frenchie. Now, I have visited France a number of times and, hand on heart, I don't think I have ever had any of those items as poor as Tesco's.

But maybe he didn't mean In the whole world, just the UK. Now, There is a chain of French bakers and patissiers called Paul. I haven't had their stuff much because I still don't think they make it as well here as they do in their French stores, but I bet they are better than Tesco's.

Perhaps he didn't mean other chains. Now, there is another well known French chef in this country, Michel Roux. I've never judged his food myself, but those in the know regard him as the best Chef de Patisserie there is, anywhere, in the world. Now, croissants etc are not normally patisserie items I shouldn't think but I've a feeling Michel can knock out a quick bakery item well in excess of the Tesco Finest range.

Perhaps he meant literally outside his kitchen. Like, the other side of the door. Then maybe he is right.

But to be honest, I think he's going to find it bloody hard to prove in a court of law.

Autumn Clean.

As you can see I'm having a bit of a change.

Some links have gone, partly because they were dead and partly cos Blogger didn't transfer them and I haven't got round to finding them yet.

Why has Masher got no little blue blip beside his link? Who knows. Does Big Blogger know something we don't?

Anyway, expect more minor tweaking.

Food Parcels

I sort of started a diet last week. This morning in the post came a letter from the British Red Cross. I haven't opened it, but I presume it is the arrangements for them to fly food parcels in to me if I start feeling faint.

God bless 'em!

The future isn't Orange.

Not for me anyway.

I decided to set up a wireless network for our machines at home. It has been a nightmare. And all because of Orange. When Marj set up her ISP accont they gave her the username. There is a problem. It is 36 characters long. Most routers, etc, accept only a maximum of 32 charcters. And Orange won't issue her a new username. They accept the only way to overcome the problem is to cancel the contract and take out a new one. So we are. With someone else!

Now we just have to wait while they drag their heels giving us our MAC code. They say 5-7 days. We'll see. It should have been immediate and were at day three and nothing yet. I feel a complaint coming on. And compensation.

The Ends of the Earth.

Off for a week in Colwyn Bay. Looking forward to any few minutes when it isn't raining.

Day Out

I shall be spending the day at Moda UK watching models parade about in skimpy underwear.

There may be photos!

But not for you lot. You perverts!

The Sound of Music

Well, this is something you don't see too often in Surrey.



We were at an anglo-swiss wedding yesterday. As we arrived at the reception we drank Pimms on the lawn and listened to an Alpenhorn. Pretty certain I've not done that before.

Fame & Fortune

I see I am on the radar of the esteemed London Blogger Diamond Geezer. Hello, if you pass this way.

I'm off knocking doors to try find business. This is the least favourite activity of my life but there's a too good incentive to miss for doing so.

Anyway, it's taking my mind off Barclays Bank who up till a month or so ago were fine but in the last month have gone absolutely down the drain. I shan't rant here though, tempting as it might be. All I will say is that now completes my entire list of high street banks who have broken banking law. What is moes worrying is that the people you talk to don't even know that. Computer says "jump". And they do.

Delusions of Grandeur

I'm not sure who are the most delusional. England fans who though w might win the World Cup or the players in post match conferences talking about how they played.

Matthew Upson missed the best chance of the conference when asked "Where do you go from here?" He failed to say "home".

Other great comments were, the ubiquitous, "We have to take the positives from it". And I think it was John Terry who said he thought "I really don't think we have played as badly in this tournment as people have made out." Cue hysterical laughter!

I have an answer. In future the England team should avoid any Premier League player. We should choose a squad of players who in all honesty never expected to play for the country. Would they win? No, of course not, but then could they be any worse, but what you would get is a squad of players who would really give 110% because it would be the highlight of their careers.

And whilst we're changing things, please stop the players being trained in media relations. I'm sick of, "we have to take the positives from this", "our work rate was really good" and "we all gave 110%".

Maybe now we'll stop treating footballers as demi-gods. Particularly Rooney. Well, that's when anyone discovers where he went missing for the last fortnight.

Time Travels

For those of us Leeds United fans of a certain vintage, Rob Greens' blunder on Saturday took us straight back to the days of Gary Sprake.

Black Comedy

I was at a performance of Black Comedy by Peter Schaefer last night. In fact I was at it on Thursday as well because I was helping Front of House.

The play takes place in the 1960s and is a typical farce of people being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The unusual thing about it, or it was for me as I haven't seen it done before in my limited theatrical experience, is that it takes place during a power cut. Well, the main fuse goes. This means that, in order to facilitate the audience, the lighting is in reverse. The ensemble starts in stage darkness and they are thrust into light when the fuse goes. Acting in full light very warily but at the beginning when all is meant to be well, striding round a cluttered stage as though they can see perfectly, seems to be quite difficult acting to keep going for 90 minutes plus. There are times when people strike a match or shine a torch and they go into semi-light. Well done the lighting man who kept pace perfectly.

If you get the chance to see it sometime I'd take it. It's funnier than those comedies that that Shakespeare wrote.

Oh God, It's a Camel.

So, as of a few minutes ago it is a hung Parliament.

Get ready to re-run this in about 6 months time.

Here comes the disappointment for all those who think that a hung Parliament means everyone works alongside each other in harmony and the world gets better and the fairies come out at night and do the housework.

The good news for us though is that Ann Keen has been ousted as our MP. She and her MP husband Alan have been known as Mr & Mrs Expenses for years. He however has held on to his seat in Feltham.

This election has turned out to be a rather unsatisfying feast.

Knife crime.

Just had Hospital Heroes on BBC1. 25% of all trauma admissions at The London Hospital are for knife wounds. Probably a more worrying but more accurate statistic than anything put out by the politicians this week on crime.

Why Stars and Celebrities Aren't The Same Thing.

Last night in Brentford there was a special concert. It was a fund raiser for the local church. These things are normally sparsely attended but last night it was packed. 400 local people came to watch plus a few from further away.

The person performing lives nearby and has done for 25 years. He wanders around the area and drinks in his local and is pretty much left alone, partly because most people are too young to remember him. The age group there last night were the key. Mainly around the 50 mark as his heyday was the late 70s. In fact his three major singles were all in 1979.

The reason so many came out was that just a couple of years later he stopped touring. For 20 years! And he only started touring when he started recording once more a few years back.

For those who remember that era, it was Nick Lowe. (Cruel to be kind : I Love The Sound of Breaking Glass).

And the reason for the title?

He obviously gave his time for free and in return set a few conditions. Not ones you'd normally expect though.
1) Because he knows his concerts have a high demand he only wanted publicity to be kept locally and by word of mouth pretty much. (The tickets still sold out with two weeks to go).
2) The only people to get in free were himself and his wife and kid if they wanted to come. Everyone else in his entourage, manager, two band members and technical people plus close friends, had to buy a ticket. And they did.
4) Tickets were to be kept at an affordable price. They were. Just £12.
3) It was pouring down with rain but 40 minutes before he was due to appear he walked through the door, shook off his umbrella, shook hands with the doorman said hello to the people on the ticket desk and quietly slipped in whilst the support act were playing. No fuss, no melodrama.

He played for just over the hour, a mixture of mainly "new era" songs and a couple of older ones. You could have heard a pin drop. I spoke with the vicar who I know and asked was he working out how to get the church this full on a Sunday? He reckoned he would have to get him to lead the worship. He was doing. Every member of that audience was there to marvel at the man, talented, quiet, unassuming, gentlemanly and a throughly good bloke.

And becaue of this thoroughly nice bloke we reckon the total raised will be about £8000 to keep a couple of the churches community projects running.

Now, that's the difference between a star and a celebrity.

Newark, Newark.

Spending this weekend in Sunny Newark. No, not the New York one, that which is about 130 miles north of here.

Newark holds a place in my heart from my travel as a young child. When we went home to Leeds by tain Newark was one of the landmarks even though it didn't stop there. The Yorkshire Pullman would leave Kings Cross, (books and games out), 1st Stop Peterborough, (The end of the beginning of the journey), pass through Newark slowly, (Well on the way now), stop at Wakefield, (Pack up stuff we're almost there), and finally arrive at the now defunct Leeds Central.

Who knows, I might even do a Diamond Geezer and report on it. But it won't be as good as his are and actually I'm going for Marjs sort of family reunion so I won't see most of Newark anyway. I can almost hear that collective sigh of relief!

All Clear

Come Monday I am going back to work. Gently at first but I need to do something before I die of boredom. Hopefully then there'll be something of interest to blog about as well although I decided I wouldn't bother with "the volcano" and certainly not the election.

So no more medical bulletins unless there's something worth saying.

POSH & BECKS = 22

Perhaps if young people spent more time reading books instead of celebrity magazines they might be able to play Scrabble by the traditional rules.

Little Thing Mean A Lot

We all take our bodies for granted. We do hundreds of little things each day that our bodies carry out and they're gone in a second without a thought. This all changes when anything affects your body be it a stiff neck ot a cut on the finger. An operation just brings more of them.

Each day brings a recovery in an everyday task which has been lost to me over the last few weeks. There have been many in the early days which I won't recount here as I'm sure you won't want to hear about them and their asociated bodily functions but this weekend has seen two milestones restoring comfort to my days and nights.

For three weeks I have had to sleep on my back as it has been too painful to lie on my side. Either of them. But as of Friday it has been possible to finally get 90 degrees round and lie there. It feels a bit funny but it isn't painful and I'll settle for that. The other breakthrough is tht I can now sneeze and cough without it hurting my "war wounds". No longer do I have to try and suppress the tickling in my nose or throat.

Every day now my body is healing faster. Mustn't overdo it. But I quite like keeping a detached eye on it and marvel at what our bodies can do. I sometimes moan about new aches and pains that happen as I get older but it's done a pretty good job for 50+ years and it certainly looks as though it's planning to keep going pretty much on top form for a good number of years yet.

Maybe I won't take my body for granted quite so much in the future. And perhaps I'll give it a helping hand by losing a bit of weight.

Call Me Scarface!

Well, Scartummy actually, but that's hardly the most threatening name.

The staples came out with a bit of a tweak yesterday morning. By the afternoon I was starting to come apart at the seam and the district nurse had to come back and steristrip part of the wound tht had decided to open a bit. At least there's no pain.

Still got a drain in but think that will be out in the next 24 hours or so.

So, on the mend. Although no work for another 4 weeks. And I'm still clutching the physiotherapists list of do's and don'ts which include no housework for 6 weeks!

The Road to Recovery.

Hi all. Surgery went well. Hurrah for mobiles!

T - 7

I've hasd my pre-op assessment and apprently I'm well enough to have my major op. Actually, I'm well enough to do anything so next Wednesday I go into hospital for a week or week and a half. You'll not notice cos I only post every fortnight anyway.

The discussion of my op has somewhat disconcerted me. Not the actual procedure itself but the possible side effects.

Due to the fact someone at some time might get an operation related in-growing toenauil and sue them for millions, you have to be told everything and the odds on it happening. I would rather they hadn't. The cancer I had was 1 in 50,000,000. Rare, but I got it. The chance of death under a general anaesthetic is about 1 in 5,000,000. Very rare, but 10 times more likely than the cancer I did get. I know that's not how it works but just being told on a scale of probable/possible/unlikely/rare would have been enough for me.

Luckily I haven't won the Euromillions otherwise it would be 15 times more likely that the anaesthetic would kill me. For the first time ever I'm glad my numbers haven't come up.

You don't have to be privileged.

There was a report in the papers last week that still 1/3 of our winter olympic team went to private schools. No mention that 2/3rds don't. However, and remember this is nothing to do with jealousy or anything like that, the government want changes made to reduce that 1/3rd even further. I'm not sure that introducing the luge as a sport to the youth of Brixton is going to make much difference though.

Then I was thinking, there is one sport where the government have done bugger all to try and open it up to the other class. Football. How many Premiership footballers went to private school? Why does the Government not do something about that?

It's 2010, and still the Labour party are hung up on "toffs" and the class war.

Now that's what I call snow!

I was watching The Making of Britain or whatever Andrew Marrs programme is called. They were showing the winter of, I think 1947 or 49 when the country ground to a halt. But it was proper snow. Feet of it.

And there were people, out and trying to clear roads, pavements and paths with shovels. making sure life could go on as best as possible even though there were power cuts. And rationing. And still having to go to school. And work.

No Health and Safety there, advising that they would be liable if anyone fell over where they had cleared a path, or that the school would be sued if a child slipped on ice and hurt themselves.

The other week, whilst Brentford laboured under the 1" of snow that fell, at two schools I know all the teachers were in but many pupils were missing. Two of the excuses that came up were;

from 1 girls parent : I didn't know the school was open because you didn't ring to tell us.

From a boy who lives within sight of the playground : I couldn't come in because there was black ice on the pavement.

Meanwhile, my niece flew out of Finland with 5 ft of snow on time, to get to Geneva. Unfortunatley the flight was via Gatwick where they were delayed for 2 hours because there was slush on the runway.

I can't help feeling that we've lost a bit of backbone in the past 60 years. And if we have, who can we sue?

Twisted.

I meant to write about this earlier last year biut I don't think I did. If I did please feel free to ignore, or roundly abuse me, whichever you see fit to do.

I was at my prospective niece-in-laws house and her son had a poster on the wall. It was, I think, a Roy Keane poster from his playing days. The message on it was, "I expect respect and try to give it".

Now, that seems the total opposite to the way I was brought up but does seem to sum up the attitude of many young people. Apart from the fact I think it is worded particularly badly if not ungrammatically, I was brought up to show respect and try to earn it. But that, in general, goes against the grain today, where everyone has the right to everything and no responsibility unless it isn't too much effort.

So expecting everyone to treat you as though you are Gods gift whilst you only need to attempt to give someone else the time of day gives you some idea why teachers have a hard time. And it doesn't help when parents back the kids point of view rather than the teachers.

The Old Routine.

I've been away this last week in the sunny town of Stevenage. Well, actually, not in the town but in the Novotel inches off the A1 junction at Stevenage.

It was a good induction course, partly becuase I remembered quite a lot of it which made me look good, but also because many of the changes the company have made in the way we are meant to work actually suit me.

So i went off this morning on my first appointment. I didn't sell it. It's like I never went away.

Help Your Neighbour.

As we know, during the current cold snowy spell, as the government have told us, it is increasingly important to keep an eye on your neighbours.

Well, the 87 year old woman next door hasn't called on me once to see if I'm alright, and the lazy cow hasn't even taken her milk in for the last 3 days! So much for neighbourliness.

I've Seen The Future and It's The Past

I never lost a company under a Conservative government but have now lost 2 under this Labour lot. In reality, I haven't lost the second but it isn't worth me struggling on. I can't make the income I need as things are.

So, I have made a decision and a couple of phone calls. I have a meeting wih my ex area manager and divisional manager tomorrow, weather permitting. If all goes well, I'm heading back to Everest!

It's 8 years since I left. I took this decision over the weekend and although in general I never ever go backwards this feel right. I'm taking the pressure off myself, going back solely to selling, and, in acknowledgement of my age, realise this is going to be the run in to my retirement if all goes well. Admittedly another 12-15 years but all the same.

So, back to the future!

Lasers at the Ready

Marj was very brave today and went to see about having laser eye surgery. I'm lucky that, apart from starting to need reading glasses for small print my eyesight is pretty good. Or at least I haven't noticed it isn't.

It takes about an hour for various tests to be done and then they have a chat and give you a bit of counselling.

So, what did we learn.

They can correct the need for wearing glasses for long distance and also astigmatism. They can't do anything to help with reading. The former being to do with your eye lenses and the latter to do with your eye muscles.

The actual time with the surgeon is only about 10 minutes, the lasering part only being a matter of a minute or so. And that's for both eyes.

The worst case scenario if things don't go according to plan is that you get an eye infection.

Not as expensive as we thought. For the cost of £1400, bar some loose change, she can expect to have perfect vision except for reading when she will just need over the counter reading glasses. Although as she doesn't need them now she may get away with even that.

Now all she has to do is decide whther she's brave enough to have the procedure.