I've have decided to dislike a man at work solely because when he stirs his tea he noisily stirs the inside of the mug and not the liquid. I hate that, it's finger nails down a black board to me. A few noises get on my nerves. I can't stand wine being opened and then pored on tv programmes - especially soap operas - the glug, glug, glug as it goes into a glass sends me reeling.
I used to hate the introduction to John Craven's Newsround I can remember quite clearly diving to the floor with two cushions over my ears, I can recall the smell of the carpet even now. That music was manic, torture and then he'd coming on with a serious expression peddling dumbed down news. I like John Craven now though, I do like an episode of Country File of a Sunday, I believe he's found a niche there I reckon he's best kept away from kiddies.

I've just popped in to a gym which is doing a 14 day free trial, I thought I'd express an interest as one needs to 'get fizzical' if I am to lose the muffin top.
It was horrible, I was shown around by a grubby little man who didn't look like he used the equipment he was trying to peddle. A skinny young woman clad in a tracksuit hung in the shadows examining her nails. I think she was the beautician although she looked like she would be more at home pushing a pram along Margate pier than amongst the lotions and potions - she had peculiar shaped eye brows with a constant look of either surprise or the effect of a nuclear blast.
The bloke was showing me the different payment options and as he babbled on I daydreamed to myself thinking "I'm not going for any of it mate" and "I'll just scarper" when he asked me which one I thought I'd go for! I hadn't listened to a word. In the end I'm booked in for one of these inductions - it was that or I'd still be in there now.

Never mix, never worry!

The ladyfriend brought poison into the house last night, she had a four pack of lager - she may as well have brought home a loaded gun. I've been tea total now for over a month and whilst I may not have the physique of a young Debora Kerr I have nipped in a little at the waist. I blame my bulge on the booze. We are off on holiday in six weeks so time is against me. I need to trim down if I am not scare the children in the hotel restaurant - and if I am to get a seat on the plane!

I've been rummaging in the bargain bucket at PC World and am now addicted to a computer game called 'Fable - the lost chapters'. I've been playing it so much that when I try to go to sleep at night I can still see it, it makes me feel a bit giddy.
I have not got a clue how to play it properly and I can't track down some mushrooms and I'm sick of killing manic wasps but it's all consuming, it's also led to me cutting corners in the kitchen so meal times have been lack lustre for the ladyfriend and I've missed Ugly Betty too!

no cows = no countryside

I've got a shoulder of lamb in the oven. It's pissing buckets outside and as the cooking process is considerable I now have a few hours to fester before tea's up. I'm following a recipe by Alistair Hendy (pictured) who I rather admire, it's a no nonsense cookery book - no frills as it were.
I bought the lamb from the dreaded Tesco supermarket, it's organic and it was in the reduced section and should have been used by two days ago but what the hey. It did smell a little bovine which I take to be the scent of all that lovely lush grass the little chap had induced.
I'm itching to get my hands on a bit of old mutton (apart from the ladyfriend - just joking!) Mutton is the new black don't cha know? I'm hoping I can track it down from a local butcher. It's available to buy on the internet but I don't like the idea of meat coming through the post, chops through the letterbox is a bit of a turn off for me.
These Organic Vegetable boxes screw my nose up a bit too. A couple of old turnips and a butternut squash to make the middle classes feel ethical. I watched a woman buying goat's milk the other day in the supermarket and she looked like she'd be better off up a mountain with a bell around her neck. I deliberately didn't buy a Fairtrade pineapple today and plumped for the one which had resulted in the most exploitation instead. I don't know why, a random act of nastiness. I'm up for a bit of Fair Trade as long as it's for British Farmers these days. No more of this foreign muck and bitter old tea bags.

Along with good food programmes on my new Sky Tv there are also bad ones. I have an intense dislike of Antony Worrall Thompson - never trust a man who breathes loudly through his nose - I view Ainsley Harriott with a mixture of disgust and alarm and I can't stand that barrow boy with John Torode...for that matter I don't like John Torode either, again never trust a man who clunks his teeth on cutlery. BUT the mother of all bad food programmes at the moment is Market Kitchen.
There is a bloke on it called Matt Tebutt who really gets my goat cheese. He's nasty to fellow presenter Tana Ramsay (the wife of the omnipresent Gordon Ramsay) and he's just an utter twit. He wafts the his hand over the frying pan to smell the food whilst he's cooking and when he tastes it he takes a huge step back and jigs his arm in amazement. Yuk, yuk.
I'm rather fed up with the words "seasonal" "organic" "source" and farmers markets too. I agree with them whole heartedly, don't get me wrong, I just can't stand foodies. I went to Borough Market last year and lasted five minutes, yuppies buying yoghurt that's all it was. I love Hugh, Nigel, Jamie, Delia, Ina and Nigella but my God they've created a monster.

Christmasses are all coming at once for the Ladyfriend. The hot news today is that Bette Midler has signed a two year deal to appear at Caesar's Palace from next February! It will just take Shirley Bassey to tread the boards and it will be a veritable hat trick of joy.
I've never been to America, I've always viewed the vast country with caution preferring to watch it from the long grass but it looks like I shall creating a whopping carbon footprint in 2008.
As a there there for selling the flat the ladyfriend and I decided that we'd tour the globe doing as many Pride festivals as we could so it will be on this note that we shall head west. I've always wanted to go to San Francisco since reading the Tales of the City books so it's June for the aeroplane zoom.

Well Hello Dolly! The Ladyfriend and I have got tickets to see Baaaaaaaarbra! We had to pay through the nose (if you pardon the expression) but it's worth it. It has always been the Ladyfriend's dream to see Babs so she's gone and blown the housekeeping on her. I don't mind though, I'm not a huge fan but I've never been to the millennium dome so it will be quite nice alround, I'm quite looking forward to it. The Ladyfriend is beside herself.

More talk of May Polls only this one is of an election kind. It's the local elections today. I like these ones, I've been sent many cheery missives from average looking people anxious to represent me on the council. I've had hand written foolscap stuffed into envelopes by the elderly with mediocre office skills but with bags of enthusiasm and I've had some silly old sod ring my door bell asking me to stick a poster in my window. Down in Eastbourne there is a hardened Tory who sticks up a huge Conservative hoarding in his front garden. It's massive, but still has the old Neo-Nazi torch logo on and not the new squibbly tree. It's all about branding you know.
When I think of town halls and councils I always picture huge tea urns and small talk, town twinning and by-passes. I daresay a lot more goes on and a lot more of it goes on underhand but it's a cosey image that I'd like to keep. Thumping Grandfather clocks, bee's wax and people who look like Stephen Fry.

Sumer is icumen in - Happy May Day! I do love a May Day, no Jack In the Green for us this year, we shall all have to sit behind our desks instead of mincing around the may pole.
Last night, instead of preparing a may day hat, I was surfing the internet and found a very strange book for kiddies about the life of Shirley Bassey! I love Shirley - her new record is ace and I'm pleased as punch that her new album has got her cover of the Pink song from the M&S ad on - but I'm not sure her life and times makes good bedtime story material. This is the website that I found it on click here

I know it's awful and I do feel a pinch of guilt as I sling a jam jar in the bin but barring the odd hurricane in North London is there a downside to climate change? The Ladyfriend and I were tits up on the beach this weekend and as I read about alarming record breaking temperatures in the Independent - a paper by the way that bangs on relentlessly about global warming whilst still managing to carry full page advertisements for sleazy jet - I thought, as I slapped on the factor 15, "your point being?"
And I'm not being selfish, I remember as a youth days and miserable days spent watching Why Don't You during summer holidays as rain lashed down outside. The sun never shone and the Mini Milks stayed tucked between the steak and kidney pies in the freezer. Atleast now future generations will be able to guarantee a picnic by the lake even if it does happen to have dried up.
I'm afraid the horse has well and truly bolted on this one. If I put off a short drive in the motor to curb my carbon emissions there will be some bugger in China belching double the amount out as their economy swells like ever rising bread dough -cut me a slice I say, roll out the lazy hazy days of summer, autumn, winter and spring.

I've got to say I'm well into this SKY TV lark. I'm completely addicted to the food channels and especially the Barefoot Contessa. She's a big girl who likes her food. I constantly shriek in horror as she adds pounds and pounds of butter and sugar to her food and she bathes in double cream. Her poor husband is a ticking time bomb of a coronary just waiting to go off. I love the way she weebles around her gorgeous Hampton's home and the way she say's "that's so good" and "bazel" instead of basil.
Mind you, I reckon she must have a big fat mama of a black maid waiting out of shot of camera because she don't half make a mess and I can't see her lifting her chubby little fingers with the fairy liquid.

This is just the best. No we have broadband I have been having a butchers at youtube and guess what I found when I searched Limone? - the place where the ladyfriend and I are going on holiday. Look click here It's fantastic, how many holiday destinations have their own song? And one sung in so many different languages.

Strange scene this evening. I was twitching the net curtains and saw three little dogs running along the path. I couldn't see an owner. They were just running along. They looked insanely happy with their tiny legs going ten to the dozen, one of them had a sticky out tongue. I like to think they were little run aways and now, as the sun has set, they are tucked up nicely in the woods asleep under the stars. Their one goal to get to the coast and board a boat to the South of France but getting up to japes along the way - I'm thinking butchers and strings of sausages and the like.

Talking of old carcasses, I've seen that Peaches Geldof girl pop up in the papers recently. Just like her mother she has a face made for slapping. Both with famous fathers and both with questionable talent. One wonders if they will both share the same destiny?

I found one of my old school books the other day, it was from my cookery lessons complete with splodges and splats. I decided to cook the chicken curry recipe tonight. It wasn't a success. During Home Economics we would be given two recipes to choose from for the following week's lesson and I remember not being bothered with the curry. As a child I was rather puritanical about my food and didn't care much for foreign muck. As a consequence I didn't write down the method with much care. The list of ingredients were there alright but the method left much to the imagination. Half of it was missing. In the end I had to make things up and it was a tad dissapointing I can tell you. Bland as Saturday night prime time television. The ladyfriend was kind but I could sense her unrest.
I'm writting this via the wireless and I've one eye on the laptop and another on the fat girl on Sky. She's had an operation to reduce weight but she's still 30 stone, God love her. She could have done with a few cookery lessons. I like watching programmes like this though, it makes me feel like Audrey Hepburn.

The Ladyfriend and I have gone over to the darkside. We have sold out to Mr Murdoch and gone and got Sky. We wanted the broadband. We wanted to watch more than four channels (we couldn't get 5 in our valley) we weren't that bothered about the phone calls as we aren't big talkers but it's nice to know that they are free in the evenings.
We'd been talking about it for ages and finally plumped for it as the flat sale looms on the horizon. We shall have more disposable income and we thought the australian mogul could do with a couple of quid.
There's sod all on it mind you. I spend more time going up and down the menu than I do watching it but that in its self is sometimes more preferable to watching what's on BBC1.
I have found my favourite station though, it's called Solent TV. It's a whole channel about the Isle of Wight! I love Vectis and long to become a Vectian. If you were to cut me in half I would have the words SANDOWN running through my body like a piece of rock. Wonderful place. There is a criminal on the loose there at the moment though.

I've become a bit of a peeping tom. We've had pheasants in the garden lately and, eager to view their plummage more closely, I have got out the Ladyfriend's binoculars. I love the smell of binoculars. It's a metallic oily plastic smell and I think it's fab. Anyway, once tired of watching these enchanting birds I have begun to lift my field of vision to the field behind the house where I have been looking at cotton tailed rabbits dancing in the long grass, wood pigeons and magpies.
It's a big field and right at the top are a line of houses and I must confess to have been having a bit of a butchers. I've not seen anything untoward, I saw a lady take some rubbish out to her bin yesterday but that's all. I'm hoping it wont develop into a mania. The ladyfriend has shown a few short signs of concern but has promised, should the police call, to blame her mother who's got dementia.

I was watching that odd music programme on Channel 4 this morning which has two of the most smarmy presenters on that I have ever seen. That's not my problem though. My figure of hate is Mark Ronson. He's covered a Smith's song. It's shocking. I don't like him. Apparently he's a mate of that girl with Downs Lily Allen which I suppose speaks volumes. He sat talking to the bloke on the programme with his legs arrogantly apart and spoke with a peculiar briterican accent. He made my blood boil.
So I've added him to my list of hate. You don't cover Smith's songs.
The closest I get to anarchy these days is not putting a postcode on when I address an envelope, I have learnt to blend in quite nicely, I have conformed to such an extent that I own a pair of carpet slippers. But I did nearly have a 'moment' in Clintons the card shop on Saturday. I was buying Easter cards for close family and friends. They had numerous cards with rabbits in various states of undress, eggs and chicks but what nearly drove me to violence was a small section cordoned off with a sign saying "Religious Cards".
I'm sorry, have I missed something? Has the religious aspect of Easter now become, like Christmas, optional? I mean for God's sake, Marks and Spencers are selling bunny pinatas! I suppose the whacking of the rabbit with sticks could be a thinly veiled symbol for the beating of Christ, but I doubt it. What on earth is going on? I felt like reenacting Jesus throwing the money lenders out of the temple by bundling up all of the cards and ripping them to confetti but I thought better of it. I let them carry on selling their talking chicks, their bunny soft toys (made of cat fur) and their Ricky Gervais easter eggs (not really but you get my drift) paid for a secular card and turned the other cheek

During my lunch break (I'd say an hour but these days sixty minutes is a luxury my workload can ill afford) I take a little walk by a stream and sometimes feed the ducks... I sometimes feed the sparrows too. Anyway, yesterday something caught my eye in the water. Tethered in the reeds close by to a shopping trolley was a dead baby. Well, I thought it was a dead baby. As it transpired it was a child's doll. But my word it was life like. The flow of the water was making the arm move as if it was waving at me. It was quite sinister. I stood and watched it for a bit just to be sure it wasn't real and realised how desensitized I had become. You see I never let our a shriek when I first caught a glimpse of the bloated corpse.
I went back today and it's still there, still waving, waiting to traumatise a toddler or two.

Had to share this with you all. Due to the scientific study that has found that a sixteen quid bottle of gloop from Boots really can help stop the signs of ageing the shops have been inundated by old croans waving their pension books.
Yesterday the ladyfriend and I walked passed the back entrance of Boots in Eastbourne to see a normally quiet cosmetic counter packed with desperate ladies trying to secure their stash. It was like a scene from the film Cacoon. I had to take a photo.
We went back a little bit later and there were even more women clamouring for the stuff.
I know I'm a wee bit cynical, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if it transpires that Boots sponsored the study to boost ailing profits, but you never know. The ladyfriend and I will naturally be participating in the buying frenzy, we like a goldrush as much as the next man. I look back with fond memories of my mother buying up Branston pickle when the factory burnt down, I've also been known to stock pile tins of lentils (still gottem and all) when I found out the price would rocket due to global warming. Now we don't have village stocks or public executions it's the only way to form a sense of community. Bring it on I say.