I just caught an octopus!

I was sitting here just now, writing the piece below, when Brian, totally out of the blue blurts out: 'I caught an octopus'.

It's all part of a new game that he's started playing where he lives in some mad world where he has to collect acorns, go fishing and sell fruit at outrageous prices. A game in virtual reality. Some would say he's already on another planet......

Hitherto, there has been no mention of beer or fishcakes.

Proud

we're all proud of our mums, that's a given, but mine is one very talented lady. Since retiring she's taken up painting in a serious way, given exhibitions, helps with the running of a gallery and sold some of her work!

Brian and I are also very grateful to her for furnishing our flat with three fabulous paintings.

With her permission, I have shown some of her work here.

Thanks ma!

Paul Hunter

Paul Hunter, the 27 year-old Leeds snooker player died today, after a battle with stomach cancer. He leaves a wife and a 1 year old daughter.

What can you say to the family? What can anyone possibly say to console the loved ones of a young lad in the prime of his life and career?

What a desperately sad story.

RIP

Strictly Parochial!

Football is more than just about the Premiership, in spite of what the media tell us!




Tonight was Woking's big derby match against Aldershot, and for the first time since Aldershot joined the Conference, Woking triumphed against their neighbours.

Goals from Stephen Evans (3o mins) and Giuseppe Sole (87 mins, pic right) were scant reward for Woking's dominance, but Aldershot showed enough spirit in the second half to suggest they are a decent enough side, and when they get their full squad back to strength, they will be a force to be reckoned with.

Anyway, tonight was Woking's night, and he majority of the 3,725 crowd will go home happy.
Glenn Cockerill's side were slammed for their early season performances, but since he brought youngsters Sole and Goma Lambu into the side, they've had more cohesion, better shape, better fitness and a MUCH better attitude. Well done Glenn, well done Cardinals!

One week left!

Tomorrow is the first day of my last week with Ultratone. One more week, and then that's it.

Then I'll be taking the car and equipment back up to Manchester and hopefuly having a week to recharge the batteries.

I must say, I'm looking forward to a new challenge and a change of scenery, but I really like the sound of my new company, and the guy I'll be working for seems so much more dynamic than our current management team.

So the last week begins, and it's going to be difficult getting through it properly as my head isn't there any more. However, I pride myself in my professionalism, and my patients will get the same level of care that they've become used to, right up until the last minute.

Here we go again!

It doesn't seem over a year ago already, that the umpires made the purely symbolic gesture of toppling the bails in the last Ashes test match at the Oval in Kennington, London.

Rarely has a nation been so united as it was for the ultimate victory, the final toppling of the outstanding Australian cricket team by Michael Vaughan's up and coming young England side. Much water has passed under the bridge since then, and we've had some interesting test series to whet our appetites for the main event this winter.

The winter tour of Pakistan showed us how thin on the ground we were for quality other than the main team, and a spirited performance to earn a draw in the second sub-continent tour of India did little more than disguise the team's shortcomings.

We seemed to have reason to worry when we let Sri Lanka off the hook in the first series of this Summer, and they fought back very creditably for a series draw. Then of course, we had the terrific series win over a tremendous Pakistan team (officially 3-0 but 2-0 as far as I am concerned), that was soured by events off the field, which seems to have showed Pakistan in a very unfair light.

So now it's the big one. Cue jokes about pots of yoghurt having more culture than Australia and songs and jibes about our ancestors stealing loaves of bread... You can say all you like about Australia, but what cannot be doubted is that for a country with a smallish population, they have to be the world's greatest sporting nation. The population, young and old, live, eat and breathe sport, and when we went down under for the Ashes tour in '98, they made us more welcome than any other place I've ever been to. Australia is a FANTASTIC country, and my experience of Australians, is that they are FANTASTIC people.

I really f***ing hate their cricket team though!

Shane Warne excepted.

That pigeon-toed tosspot Glenn McGrath has already dared to criticise our own dear Monty Panesar for wanting to see a sports psychologist before flying down there. I don't blame him one bit. They will look for any weakness in our morale and work on it, so the better prepared we are, the more chance we will have of bringing home what is rightfully ours. We are a younger up and coming team, whereas they are a bunch of washed-up old convicts with less culture than a pot of....... Ahem.

It'll be a fabulous series, and if Warne and McGrath stay fit, it will probably be their last major contribution in an ashes series. Let's hope our boys can stop them making it their most successful.

So good luck, in no particular order, to: Marcus Trescothick, Alistair Cook, Andrew Strauss, Michael Vaughan?, Kevin Pietersen, Paul Collingwood, Andrew Flintoff, Ian Bell, Chris Reade, Gerraint Jones, Liam Plunkett, Sajid Mahmood, Monty Panesar, Ashley Giles, Jimmy Anderson, Matthew Hoggard and Steve (Grievous Bodily) Harmison.

Go on lads, you can do it, you did it a year ago, they're the same Aussies, just a year older and stiffer!

World's media in shock at revelation!

Brian had soup for tea!

Just when I thought he'd say sausages, fishcakes, fishfingers or even the old favourite, cheese sandwiches, he stuns me and the world's watching media by asking for Oxtail Soup!

He even threatened to attempt to heat it up too. However, I have no idea as to the current call-out times of her Majesty's Fire Brigade, and I think the battery in the smoke alarm may be a little tired, so I passed on that one.

Whatever next, lobster thermidore with oven chips?

The highlight of my year approaches!

Friday is the day I have been looking forward to for about a year!

Once a year, a group of about five or six friends, all Everton shareholders and fans, meet up at Langans Brasserie (Michael Caine's restaurant) in London, to talk about all things Everton (and otherwise).

We arrive at lunchtime and usually leave sometime before our last trains home!

Among the illuminaries to be there this year will be Professor Paul Preston, the world's leading expert on the Spanish Civil War, King Juan Carlos and General Franco. Paul is truly one of the greatest and funniest men I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, and every minute spent in his company is a pleasure.

Steve Allinson, ex chairman of the Everton Football Club Shareholder's Association is also tremendous company, and if the evening starts to go haywire, you can be sure he'll be something to do with the debauchery!

And the day is hosted by Paul Tollett (Business Marketing Manager of O2) all round nice guy, and as keen a Bluenose as you'd meet anywhere. He also has as sad a memory for all things Everton as I do!

Also present will be Ken Tollett, Paul's dad and Steve Kirkwood, a long time member of the NTAS and former coach of the Everton FC Internet supporters team!

Far too much wine will be drunk, far too much rubbish will be spoken (mostly by me) and I will be very glad I'm not having to do the driving when we go to Everton v Manchester City at 8 am the next morning!

But by God I can't wait!

The war of attrition begins....

So, I get a phone call today from the 'powers that be' telling me to attend a meeting in Kingston-upon-Thames on Monday morning. This will be the meeting with the national sales director and my regional area manager, where they offer me countless pay rises and incentives to stay on.

If I am worth all this attention now, why wasn't I worth it before I handed in my resignation?
It pisses me off to be honest. If they'd come up with something like this before, then I probably wouldn't even have looked for another job.

So it'll be very much a case of 'locking the stable door after the horse has bolted' as I've made my mind up to leave now, and am looking forward to the new challenge and professional outlook.

So nothing will change on Monday, unless they offer me £250,000 a year, a company Ferrari and a 21 year old Fillipino houseboy to do the cleaning.

My third job in 24 years!

Last week, after attending informal and formal interviews, I was told that I would be offered the job I had applied for.
I shall be continuing in audiology, but working for a smaller, more professional, less unwieldly firm.

The pay and holiday are better, the car is faster and a little more chic, but the biggest improvements will be in the company's professional attitude and outlook. Smaller firms tend to value their staff more, and I certainly get that impression from talking to them. They seem to value the input and ideas of their staff, whereas my present company are so large and faceless, one feels more like a number or statistic than the company's most valuable asset, which is what we are. After all, without us, they have NO income.

So after two years of growing more and more disgruntled with working for such a large organisation, I had little hesitation when the job was offered to me, and I will shortly move on to my third job in 24 years!

My biggest regret is leaving behind my fantastic mate Nancy, who is undoubtedly the best friend I've ever had from a working environment, but to be honest, our friendship now is about far more than the fact that we work together three days a week.

I shall write more on this topic when I begin the work!

A random poem

This is one of my favourite poems, written by the wonderful Seamus Heaney.

Unlike with books, I never tire of rereading good poetry.

Blackberry-picking Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots. Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills We trekked and picked until the cans were full, Until the tinkling bottom had been covered With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard's. We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre. But when the bath was filled we found a fur, A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache. The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour. I always felt like crying. It wasn't fair That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot. Each year I hoped they'd keep, knew they would not.

The Moth Joke

This is one of my favourite jokes. I hope you enjoy it.

A man goes into a doctor's surgery, and speaks to the doctor:

''Doctor, I have a real problem. I keep thinking that I'm a moth''.

The doctor replies:

''It's not really a doctor you need for this, it's a psychiatrist''.

And the man says:

''Well, that was what I thought, and in fact I was on my way to see one just then, but as I was passing, I saw your light was on''.

Friday!

Well, it's Friday.

Weekend things:

First drink since Saturday.
Everton v Wigan Athletic.
2 wonderful, but short, days off.
Unfulfilled plans to do housework.
Arguments about who's turn it is to go shopping.
Corner pets.

Falling asleep on the sofa.
Watching 15 minutes of a dvd, before falling asleep on the sofa.
Hedge-bouncing.
Being wide-awake at 8 am, and knowing if it were a work day you'd be dead to the world.
Back to back televised football.
long and luxurious baths.
Excessive coffee drinking.
Brian's lunchtime cheese sandwiches.
Relaxation.
Realisation that we're back to work on Sunday.....

Last word on the derby?

I'll try not to mention the derby again for a while, but I think we should let a Liverpool supporter have the VERY last word on the matter after some taunting from the better blues.

It was the best of times, it was the würst of times.

I don't really have anything worthwhile to say today. So do I keep schtum, or do I just type drivel? Drivel gets the vote.

Brian had sausages, chips and beans for dinner tonight.

Three sausages I might add. It's always three.

Three shall be the number of sausages he shall have, and the number of the sausages shall be three. Four shall he not have, neither shall he have two, unless he proceeds on to three.
One or five? Forget it.

Once having reached the number of the sausages (three) then we may approach the stove and cook.

He's taken to the new recycling plans with gusto I must say. We've just had delivered, various different containers for papers, cans, plastics etc., and Brian has taken it upon himself to arrange this all himself. This is encouraging. Normally it's about as easy to get Brian to take a trip to the refuse tip as it would be to get Ariel Sharon to sit down and share Brian's aforementioned plate of sausages.

I just hope his recycling zeal doesn't lose pace, as I do think it's a very worthwhile thing to be doing.

So far, if we recycled Brian's beer cans and my wine bottles, we could come up with a passable model of Canary Wharf. Life size, I might add.

So the weekend looms ever nearer, and Friday is my first opportunity for a week, to put a dent in the European wine lake. I don't suppose I shall make much of an inroad there, but I daresay in the future some lucky newlywed couple will have a set of French windows to be proud of.

Beautiful Thing(s)

Beautiful Thing is my favourite movie. It is a funny, happy and sad, feelgood movie about two lads falling in love on a rough South London council estate. Another in the fantastic series of Channel 4 films. It was never mainstream, but if you want to see it, you can get it on any of the internet dvd sites, or failing that, if you're near enough, I can lend it to you!

I have posted above here, some pictures of things that I consider to be beautiful here as well, purely as an afterthought!

Firstly, there's a picture of the scoreboard at Goodison on Saturday after the derby win. Then there's an aerial shot of where we live, a shot of Brian pondering whether to have fishfingers or fishcakes for dinner, a shot of the Liver Building and the River Mersey, one of Sydney Opera House, the ubiquitous aerial picture of Goodison Park, the home of the Mighty Everton FC, a picturesque scene from the Lake District in north-west England, a portrait of singer Ben Adams and a lovely shot of Salzburg overlooking the river Salzach.

911

Today was the fifth anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the USA of September 11th 2001.
My thoughts and sympathies go with the victims and families of all terror attacks, illegal killings, illegal wars and unsolicited violence.

Since September 11th 2001, there have been attacks on Madrid, Indonesia and London by Al Qaeda, as there have been attacks on Iraq by British and American forces, and on Lebanon by Israeli forces. There is no light at the end of the tunnel, no sign of abatement and certainly no sign of anybody 'winning'.

EVERYBODY is losing.

What can we learn from history? Well, when John Major took over from Margaret Thatcher in 1990, one of the most memorable things he did as British Prime Minister was to start the long and drawn-out peace process with the Irish Republican Movement, and eventually bring the likes of Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness to the negotiating table. Tony Blair continued this good work, and even if we have nothing else to thank him and Major for, this partial solving of an extremely difficult problem in Ireland has been a massive step forward, and has since seen the disarming and disbanding of the pIRA. Some may argue this point, but Irish Republican terrorism in mainland UK is now a thing of the past.

In 1993, the Nobel Peace Prize was awarded jointly to Nelson Mandela and Frederik William (FW) de Klerk, for their roles in the abolishment of apartheidt. De Klerk made the decision to begin negotiations with the (outlawed) African National Congress in the face of heavy criticism from conservative South Africans, but possibly was influenced by boycotts of South African products and Sporting teams.

The link between these two momentous achievements, is that peace was arrived at by senior politicians taking the bit between their teeth, and negotiating with terrorist organisations.
Surely now the time has come for the western powers to attempt to negotiate with Osama Bin Laden and al Qaeda? Should the powers that be not try and find out what is motivating people so much that they are prepared to give their lives for their cause?

People will shout and scream 'oh but that's letting them win' but I think it'd be letting everyone win. How many Iraqi and Palestinian citizens see Americans, British and Israelis as terrorists and war criminals?

If nothing is done the pointless killing will continue, and I firmly believe we will end up with the most serious confrontations since World War II.

Redgum

Redgum are without doubt my favourite band of all time.

'Who?' you probably ask.

Well, they were an Australian band which made music that not only was good, it meant something too.
John Schumann wrote songs with his dissatisfaction of the Australian political system of the 1980s very much in evidence. Consumerism, globalism, excessive capitalism, needless wars, the selling of Australia's family silver to the Americans, they all are touched upon by Schumann's intelligence and the band's remarkable ability to twin that with really good music.

It never fails to amaze me that they got so little credit for their work.

Have a listen to this song, and watch the video too. It's called 'I was only 19', and is a strong criticism of the Vietnam war.

Their records are BLOODY hard to get hold of. It has taken me 10 years or so to get the amount I have now, and I KNOW there's more stuff out there but as rare as rocking horse shit.

If you are interested and want to hear more, drop me an email.

Stoo.roberts@btopenworld.com

Everton 3 - 0 Liverpool

Well how wrong can you be? A fantastic performance by the boys in blue totally destroyed Liverpool with concise, threatening attack play, dogged defending, and a fair rub of the green for once.

In spite of the referee, as I predicted, trying to win the game single-handedly for Liverpool, we held on in the face of decision after decision against us, and took our chances when we could.

Andrew Johnson was the best player on the pitch by a long, long way and his two goals will turn him into a folk hero immediately. Liverpool's midfield kept the ball well, but until they pushed Steven Gerrard out to the right to take on the woeful Gary Naysmith, they never looked like creating anything. The one penalty decision went in our favour for once, but that didn't make up for the 30 or so free kicks the referee gave Liverpool. Anyway, I'd have taken 3-1 as well!

Oh joy.

Now, I think a certain amount of imbibing and celebrating is in order!

COME ON YOU BLUES!

Watch the highlights here!

Torture Saturday

Well it's that time of year again. On Saturday, it's the first Merseyside Derby of the season, at Goodison Park. I HATE the derby, namely because we, Everton, always lose. Liverpool always win, it's inevitable. Liverpool FC is a vile institution which incorporates luck, bribery of referees, cheating, fouling, more luck, better financial expenditure on the team, media favouritism, more luck, ridiculous decisions from referees and governing bodies, yet more luck, and of course, the fact that they have sold their souls to the Cloven Hooved one. Lucifer. They are Legion. Liverpool FC is Satan's XI. And they're better than us too. Which, given the above, does tend to make life a little difficult. Saturday's referee, Graham Poll, has a history of cheating against Everton, not least in derbies, so any chance of an even break from him has gone out of the window. So, I shall be forced to watch on Saturday, with a kind of morbid fascination, the kind where you are watching somebody pull the wings off a fly, even though it revolts you. My prediction for Saturday, is Everton 0 -3 Liver(poll), and we will have at least one man sent off and are on the wrong end of a penalty decision, whether it is one given to the legion of the damned, or one in our favour not awarded. I'll be VERY glad when it's all over anyway.

Steve Irwin

Steve Irwin, Australia's most famous animal molester was killed today when he was stung by a stingray in the heart. A dreadfully sad story, but he was always sailing close to the wind.
It's just NOT CLEVER to try and insert digits into dangerous animals is it?

A sad tail (sic) of woe, but probably the way Steve would have chosen to go, had he been given the option of choosing.

I don't suppose Monday was his favourite day either.

Til next time folks.

Tell me why?

'On 29 January 1979, 16-year-old Brenda Ann Spencer opened fire on children arriving at Cleveland Elementary School in San Diego from her house across the street, killing two men and wounding eight students and a police officer. As to what impelled her into this form of murderous madness, she told a reporter,''I don't like Mondays.'


Now I really, REALLY don't like Mondays.
I'm not the type to take an automatic weapon to work and indiscriminately pick-off my patients and colleagues, but I do find the M word looms ever nearer from about 11 am on Sunday. I quite like my work, but surely there has to be more to life than the 5 days on and 2 days off drudge? Is this something we all suffer from, or just another symptom of my ever looming middle-age crisis?

Is it chic to have a middle age crisis? How do I know if I genuinely am having one? How will I know if it ends? Will it end? Will I be all sparkly and the life and soul of the party again when it does end?

I've never had what I would call a fashionable malaise before, maybe I should have a go with MRSA or ME first, to see if they're more rewarding. The term 'middle-age crisis' tends to do little more than raise the odd unsympathetic eyebrow or comments about attention seeking.
Pffff, attention seeking? Me? Good God no, some people even have the audacity to write their thoughts down on a web page and expect total strangers to be amused and entertained.

Perish the thought. Anyway, all this conjecture doesn't hide the fact that I HATE MONDAYS.

End of an era? Immerse transfers in water before application.

Devastating news today. Airfix, the company that damaged more boys' bedroom ceilings than any other has gone into liquidation.

Airfix model aeroplanes (do not use cement in an enclosed space, use a nail file to smooth moulded parts) were a massive part of my childhood.

I would get an Airfix kit, usually a Messerschmidt 109, also the glue and the paints, pinch one of mums nailfiles and sit down on the dining room table with a page of the Daily Mail as protection. Given an orgy of oil based paints and glue that has fumes that give a similar sensation to that of crack cocaine, I would sit down and while away many an afternoon.

Basically, I'd paint the pilot meticulously, put him aside to dry whilst preparing to paint the wings. After about ten minutes of this, I'd just think 'sod it' and put the whole thing together unpainted and with too much glue. The result, when 'dry' was about as airworthy as a walrus.
Nevertheless, they would be automatically cellotaped to the ceiling in some attempt at recreating the Battle of Britain. If the German Luftwafe had me as an aircraft designer, WWII would have been over in December 1939.

I have good memories of Airfix though, and it seems to be sad that one more part of my youth has vanished into the ether, along with the Clangers and sherbert UFOs.

Brian had cheese sandwiches tonight, which will be followed by a maelstrom of biscuits and crisps as the night wears on.

Half eight, I'm knackered. Just about to get in the bath. Today has been uneventful. However, in one astonishing turn of events, Brian had four sausages this evening, instead of three. CNN will be ringing for verification and official statements any second. And getting me out of the bath for them no doubt.

Brian and I have decided to enrol in a Spanish for beginners course, which will start on September 19th. This is part of planning for our intended move to the Islas Canarias. Adult education classes are fantastic. Myself excepted, (naturally) the students tend to be people straight out of Alan Bennett's imagination, and the 'people watching'/'behaviour observing' can be more absorbing than the actual lessons. I have previously taken evening courses in badminton, in advanced level English and in advanced level German. One of my best friends from the five years spent learning German was sentenced to five years in prison for corporate fraud. Such excitement. If our Spanish tutor is anything less than Charles Manson with a paella fetish, I shall be most disappointed.

Lesbians to be given 'controversial' IVF treatment...

Why should this be controversial? I don't know why anybody would have a problem with this at all, unless of course they're busybodies with nothing better to do. I can see nothing but good coming from it, not least the marked improvement in sales of dungarees and Doctor Martens boots.

Hello and Welcome!

So, this is it. My first 'blog'. As far as I can make out, it's an online diary for anyone to read. So will there be anything nefarious and racey on here?

Unlikely. Possible. No, I'll stick with unlikely.

There WILL however, be my thoughts, musings and nonsense on pretty much anything, so give it a chance, and if you think I've anything interesting to say, please read on, but if you don't, may I recommend youtube.com, or google.com?

So here goes.... I'm still basking in Everton's first away win at Spurs for 21 years, but I'm slightly concerned as I've had no reply to any of several drunken (not so abusive) texts I sent to one of my best friends, Ian. He is, I should point out, a Spurs fan. So he'll either be sulking or will have had some form of family disaster at the weekend, rendering my text messages tactless and trite.
I hope he's sulking.

I like plants. They, seem not to like me. When we moved in to our current flat, I bought a fern (named Duncan) for £80. It turned out to be a suicidal fern, and I swear from day one it was TRYING to die. It was watered and fed regularly too. £80 is a lot to pay for a large white plastic pot and some peat.I have since replaced Duncan, with Sanjeev. A much more successful, but somewhat less ambitious cactus, which seems grateful for its mere existence in my office at home. It is growing though, which encourages me.

WORK today was uneventful. We missed the Bramley Challenger Man, which was a shame. We have a regular delivery of a local magazine publication, called the Bramley Challenger. The man delivering it, is shall we say, aesthetically pleasing, so it is usually a fight between myself and my colleague Nancy as to who can politely thank him for the magazines and smile the most treacly smile. He must think we're both barking mad. Anyway, between us we missed him, and he has only left us one copy of this edition. Unless of course, my patients have also taken a liking to him, and each taken a copy for themselves. The magazine is nothing to write home about I might add, but there is always a quiz which whiles aways a good 90 seconds or so.

Brian had fishcakes for dinner. This is unsurprising.

More tomorrow no doubt.