The Calm Before The Storm

Yoinked from Stunning Sexy Guys

Jim and I are currently in a No Man's Land of uncertainty. Our time in Greenwich is almost certainly coming to an end, and our new lives in Folkestone are almost certainly soon to begin. But nothing is sure, and we really haven't properly begun to prepare (more through procrastination than anything else).

So we will need to get to it. So, Dear Constant Reader, if I am somewhat absent through the next couple of months... please forgive me! I am off to Lochgoilhead on Friday for a long weekend with Jim, Mum, her new man and the siblings. Then I need to get my Christmas shopping out the way (for those stuck for ideas I have my Amazon Wishlist and my Firebox Wishlist). At the same time sorting and packing our possessions is well overdue. Intersperse with Christmas parties and unexpected other things and you have one hell of a busy month ahead!! Ouch.

So again... forgive me if I am somewhat absent for parts of the time ahead... it's all for a good reason, not bad!!

This blogger works for nothing but the joy of writing but always appreciates things bought from his wishlist

Stupid Is As Stupid London Does

I'm no genius. I make mistakes. I'm a flawed and imperfect individual. I recognise this, and whilst I seek to improve I understand that perfection is an impossibility. Yet this cannot stop me believing I live in a city of slobbering idiots.

The people walk up and down stairs without any thought for those behind them. They meander. They stop in weird, but truly inconvenient, places. They can't change the batteries in a smoke detector. They never have their Oyster card/ticket ready. They appear unable to queue. They think putting a bag on a seat in some way implies that seat is now theirs. They push. They shove. They look at you aghast if you point out any of their multitude of failings. They can't work self service machines at supermarkets but insist on using them even when there is a checkout free. They think you're really clever because you know some history pre-1990.

That seems to be humanity. These people can vote. You have been warned.

*Note grumpiness caused by idiotic Londoners may have coloured by views somewhat in this post, normal service will resume... at some point*

This blogger works for nothing but the joy of writing but always appreciates things bought from his wishlist

Sandor Earl: So Good He Gets Another Post!

Well he was hot last time but these pictures make me go a little woozy. Hot. Hot. Hot!!

This blogger works for nothing but the joy of writing but always appreciates things bought from his wishlist

For My Fallen

Like most British people, hell like most Europeans, I've got many relatives who served in the First World War. The sad thing is that I didn't know about any of them until this year when I spent some time trying to flesh out my family tree. So here is my small memorial to my three (known) relatives who didn't come home from the Western Front. Whilst Leonard and William were previously known by those on the paternal side of my tree, John Barrow had been quite forgotten by my Mum's family. I hope this goes some way towards making up for that dreadful oversight.

S/8933 Private Leonard Bristow 1st Battalion The "Queens Own" Royal West Kent Regiment: My g-g-g uncle was born in Dartford, Kent but at the age of 18 found himself fighting in Ypres, Belgium. He died there on December 17th 1914. He has no known grave.

Dive Copse British Cemetery

G/9137 Private John Barrow 8th Battalion East Kent Regiment, aka The Buffs. My g-g-g uncle was born in the tiny hamlet of Kilndown, Kent. On the 22nd January 1916 he entered the army. He fell at the Battle of the Somme on the 20th August 1916. He was only 22. He is buried in the Dive Copse British Cemetery, Sailly-Le-Sec, France.

100383 William Schooling 2nd Squadron Machine Gun Corps (Cavalry) My g-g-g-g uncle was born in Plaistow, Essex. On the 22nd March 1918 he fell during the German Spring Offensive of 1918. He has no known grave.

Sadly, given the incomplete nature of my tree, there are probably more relatives who fell during that horrible war. May they rest in peace.

This blogger works for nothing but the joy of writing but always appreciates things bought from his wishlist

Charles Dera Returns And A Day In The Local

It's been a long time, but for your viewing pleasure here is a new picture of Charles Dera! Enjoy.

So... yesterday I arrived in the local at 1pm and did not leave until after midnight. Yes. That's right. My name is Jason and I'm an alcoholic (at the weekend). It was fun, and Sally regalled us with her tale of running off to Berlin on a whim this time 20 years ago to be part of the action. Very exciting stuff.

This blogger works for nothing but the joy of writing but always appreciates things bought from his wishlist

Lest We Forget

As is the tradition on this blog on Remembrance Sunday, here is Wilfred Owen's "Dulce et Decorum Est".

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,

And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est

Pro patria mori

Since the last Remembrance Sunday post I've discovered many of my relatives fought, and many died, in the First World War. They were young lads, mostly volunteers who signed up in 1914, who sacrificed their lives for our country. We must never forget them nor all those who continue to fight, and die, in our name.

This blogger works for nothing but the joy of writing but always appreciates things bought from his wishlist

GLBT Action Committee

So today was the second meeting of work's new GLBT action committee, and the first I've been able to attend (not counting Friday's vigil). Ten of us showed up to try and work out what we were actually meant to be doing. It was an interesting group and our decisions (based mainly on the reason for our creation: dissatisfaction among GLBT staff) were pretty damn great. Best part was it was the least PC meeting I've ever been to.

After the meeting we headed down to Hammersmith's gay bar, theHope and Anchor. This is a totally ungentrified, two room pub with plenty of... character. But as I said to some of the others who turned their noses up at first, it's nice to have these sort of pubs still around. Poppy, the overly excited pub dog, was the icing on the cake (although I think you should leave any food items outside as she has no qualms about bringing you down in search of your food items as one member of our group discovered). Not a bad place and a nice evening was had.

This blogger works for nothing but the joy of writing but always appreciates things bought from his wishlist

A Busy Weekend

Friday night was taken up with the first outing of work's GLBT Action group to the vigil against homophobic violence, which meant I wasn't home until well after 10pm. The next day Jim and I headed down to Mum's new house down in Hythe and whilst we waited for her to get home headed to the nearby pub, the Duke's Head, with George. Trust me, you don't want to go there. 

Mum, Debbie-Debs and Beth turned up and we spent the evening watching telly and eating copious amounts of take away in the new house. Shame Angel Cat and Noodles weren't there, with just the solitary Bella being the only pet to make the move. :( 

Made it home, via Debbie-Debs in Maidstone, ridiculously late but still made last orders at the local. 

Sunday was started with a quick shop around Tesco's before we settled in at the local for the duration. Alcoholic? Me? Never! 

Monday was an "Il Bordello" night. Straight after work, as is the custom on such a night, I met Jim in the Thomas More in Wapping, but found it was now called "Cape". The lager and their mojito's were disgusting and the place was pretty uninspiring. Shame, the Thomas More was an alright pub. Denis, H (birthday boy hence the "Il Bordello" evening) and Nail and headed down to the Captain Kidd, which was still as good as ever. Which is good but shame about the Sam Smith's drinks! 

Karen arrived and our group was now complete, so we made our way to Il Bordello. For those who aren't Dear Constant Readers, this restaurant is probably my favourite in London and was the scene of my first date with Jim. As always the food did not disappoint, with the portions defeating even the hungriest (that was me). Alright I was only defeated on the second dessert but still... ;) Gorgeous place, followed by a DLR trip home and a night cap at the local. 

I'm so tired today....   which means time for a random rugby picture (of James Haskell who is pretty damn hunky!)

This blogger works for nothing but the joy of writing but always appreciates things bought from his wishlist