» Impulse buys

Cloudy again
I dont mean my piss either.

Since I was eight a wanted a telescope. A decent one. I could never really justify it though, living in London, and Luton is just as bad, with the orange glow stopping everything.

However, I succumbed last year and bought a precision, british made 140mm Maksukov. It's great. Unfortuatley It is a bit heavy on the tripod to lug around to decent sites easily. I also swear there has not been a decent clear night since I bought it. Yes, it's clear when I leave work, but there is allways a fecking great cloud over Luton when I get home.

I took it to Wales and it rained every night, which is not really a news item. I am taking it to Northumberland in June on hols. I am keeping my fingers crossed on that one.

I have slightly exagerated, whenever I am too drunk to use the scope properly, if I look out of the window, there are all the stars I could wish for, twinkling merrily and pouring scorn on my lack of commitment, bastards.

So there it is, the only dusted thing in my flat, taking up half the living room, and I love it to bits. Well worth waiting 42 years for I think.

PS. I move it to the side a bit when the Mistress Bartleby comes to stay. Even I am not that stupid.
(Thu 21st May 2009, 17:04, More)

» Bullies

Day 1
I was bullied by everyone at school, including the girls and the teachers. It didn't help that my elder brothers had bounced around one or two teachers a bit in their time, and being reasonable human beings, they wanted revenge. I was a swat and so meek, it was going to be easy.

On my first day, Vincent Secondary Modern in Northolt, the new kids were all coraled in the cloak room. 150 shit scared 11+ failures waiting to be allocated classes. Calling out the names was a neanderthal, a typical Loughborgh reject named West. Coming to my name quite near the top, he stops, frowns, and looks up. In a moment he had swung through the bars of the coat racks and landed in front of me. "Stand Up" he yells, I oblige. "Not another one?" "Yes" He turns purple and swings back to his place. All eyes on me, I trembled like a leaf and hoped to disapear. Even the kids, whose mums had made them wear school caps, marked my card on that day.

I mentioned this to my big brother when I got home. "Oh yeah, I stuck one on him the day I left, the cunt" Cheers Bro, my life is now going to be destroyed.

I try to avoid West for as long as possible, he was the games master, and I was crap at all sport, so it was very difficult. One rainy thursday, three classes of boys are sitting silently in the dungeons that served for changing rooms under the Gym. In a few minutes we will be marching down to the local swimming baths. All silent except for Les Clarke and me. West is in his office, learning to read or something. he hears the noise.

Out bounds West from is nest of sweaty track suits, unclaimed sports kit, and pants. Its slipper time for Les and me. Him first. Standard procedure, bend over, and grab your knees. One wack, and Les is sent back to his seat. Me next.

Assume the position, I notice he is moving to the end of the room. One two three, he launches himself at me, and my fat arse takes his size 9 like a thunderclap. The sound reverberates around the changing room. I spring to my feet and turn to face him. "I didn't tell you to stand up," he shrieks. I re-assume the position, and boy are my eyes welling up, cos it fucking hurt.

Another run up, and he dummies it. Then he dismisses me. I give him a look that I thought was menacing, but probably looked like private Godfrey offering a pice of fairy cake.

At the swimming baths, "Oi Bartleby, I can read Slazenger on your arse, and size 9." The shame, the shame.

The bad thing was that once he had slippered you, you were one of his mates. Definatley suspect.

In closing, Mr West, Philip I think, you are a grade A cunt. I hope your kids had very small dicks. And that includes the girls.

Oh, am I bitter. Oh yes.
(Thu 14th May 2009, 14:29, More)

» School Days

Fun with gas
Being a trustee inmate at my Secondary Modern, we were allowed to do extra metalwork at lunchtime. We made little steam engines which we proceeded to run with the gas torches, rather than the puny spirit lamps we were supposed to make.

Little arsonists that we were, and Mr Beer trusting us. we tended to have gas gun fights, only just avoiding setting fire each other. Firing the gun at full tilt into the lid of a dustbin always looked spectacular.

One day we were were bored so Roy stuck his head in a tea chest previously filled with gas... it went woomph when we lit it, and he pulled his head out pretty sharpish. We pissed ourselves as, and I apologise in advance to everyone, this golliwog looked around the room. Having reomoved his specs, he looked like a panda. We never did it again, and we remained innocent in the eyes of the staff. The strange thing is, I think Roy suggested it.

Cherry Popped.
(Tue 3rd Feb 2009, 13:26, More)

» Rubbish Towns

Mars
Just north of Pitsburgh. Typical linear village either side of a main road, a couple of crap motels, a supermarket, thats it.

This was in 1989 (I was there for work) I doubt it has improved.
(Thu 29th Oct 2009, 12:54, More)

» God

God and Sex
My father went to heaven every Sunday morning after he had packed the bloody kids off to church. It was the only time he could get bouncy with the missus, without a heard of offspring cramping his style.

We learned about bells and smells, and looked forward to Easter when Father Danvers dolled out the cream eggs, and the week before when we had sword fights on the way home with the straw crosses that looked like rapiers. I think that was what they were for.

Anyway, back home the old man would be hoovering the stairs with a cheesy smirk on his fizzer. Obviously a result. Sometimes the old lady had a black eye instead, and we knew we had to be good for Sunday dinner, instead of the usual riot.

Being innocent and seven at the time all this seemd normal. I only found out the reason behind our weekly tie up with God when my elder brother told me a few years later, and the penny dropped.

Since then I think my relationship with the big fellah has been a bit one sided. He loves us all, and I think he is a cnut.

Still like hymns though.
(Fri 20th Mar 2009, 12:53, More)