...something something DARK SIDE something somehing

Hi, I am speaking to you from my new computer *labored intake of breath* it's a MAC notebook pro.

 I'm in the middle of exploring it, oh how cool is that, the keyboard just light up, fab.

Ash has helped me lots already and will be doing more sterling service in the future no doubt.

It's true what the adverts say about the mac it does "just work" with the exception of 17 updates there was no tedious set up routine like there is with windows (may Bill rot). The ease of initial use could be due to the fact that it was pre-owned, some old geezer had it for a week but stuffed the credit for it, so they took it back to the shop.

Into the shop walks I, up to the mac section I go and pointing to my new toy I said " I want that one", think Little Britain.

Normally if I go thru the apple section I feel like a pilgrim in an unholy land, not this time.

It felt dirty but in a good way.

I pugged in my microsoft wifi mouse and it just worked, no need to install it, there wasn't even a delay, in and done.

I love the power lead, the little but powerful magnet connector, how many times have I needed that in the past, lots.

Did I mention I got 5% off due to it being pre-owned? no? Well I did.

But do you know what's better? Go on guess.

Give up?

I'll tell you.

Installed on the computer was microsoft office for mac, worth four effin hundred bleedin' pounds.

And I got it for free.

HOW ZARKING COOL IS THAT?!

The sound out of the built in speakers is amazing (except at the mo the spice girls are on) very rich with a nice bass line.

Just a couple of niggles.

Certain keys are not where they should be and the del key is A.W.O.L.

It has a Fn key so what does the apple and clover leaf do? I haven't been brave enough to press it yet incase the machine disappears in a puff of smoke and coloured lights.

Oh and it seems to be set on the US lexicon, not for much longer.

Here's how I know, I spell colour like that, the new machine insists it is incorrect and that if I want to make the red squiggly line go away I should omit the U, a very minor niggle.

Ash said that once I owned a Mac I would have joined the elite of computer users. I don't think thats true.

Anyway I'm off

Goodbye, peasants.

Pleasure and pain

And whacking great chunks of frustration.

Remember me being rather smug and happy about my tax rebate the other day?
Good, that was the pleasure alluded to in the title.

AND NOW FOR THE PAIN AND FRUSTRATION, read on.


It's ten to three in the morning and I've just spent a futile 4 hours trying to get my broadband modem to cooperate. The last two LED's that should be steady, indicating a strong and locked connection are flashing on and off like demented fireflies, indicating that I have NO connection.
It's the wee hour of the morning so phones are not being answered, the online help section is no help either as it wont recognise the email address THEY GAVE ME! So that I can log on and talk to a 24hr tech bod. Fuckers!

I'm typing this only because D next door didn't remove the permissions for my computers to connect to his wireless network, something I had up till 4 hours ago. Thanks D another bottle of what you fancy inbound for that.

Why didn't I just go to bed at a sensible time and sort it all out when the rest of the UK is awake?
Well I'll tell you.
At about 11:30m I decided on a hot choc and a 2 finger kitkat (from the fridge) and then once that repast had been consumed I would turn in, a plan with no drawbacks.
I had a few sips of the minty hot choc, yum, and decided to have a go at the kitkat (my favourite choc bar).
I opened the wrapper and took a bite across the two fingers, as is my wont.
There was a loud snap, not at all like a wafer biscuit covered in chocolate, but sounding more like a tooth giving way. Oh BOLLOCKS!!! FECK!!!!
It turned out that there was no wafer center just chocolate, VERY SOLID and above all else, VERY FUCKING HARD chocolate.
I used to like getting those oddities of the kitkat world, not any more *sulk*

I now have a broken and painful tooth on the left side as well as the right, fucking marvelous!
I'm sorry for the language but all I can think of at the moment is the pain that is stabbing through my head like a bloody ice pick!

As soon as it happened I decided to log on at my dentists and ebook an appointment for tomorrow.
That is when I found out that my modem had hung and that my wireless network had gone off line. I tried the laptop in the kitchen, nada. I tried the desktop in the front room, nada. I tried the wii, nada. I tried both PSP's, nothing.
The only way I could get on line was on my mobile and seeing as it's only got £40 worth of credit on it I would run out before I found the dentists site logged on and booked an appointment.
ARSE BISCUITS!!

Then through the haze of pain a thought arrived and got my attention.
What about D's wifi network, see if you can still log on to that.

O.K. I'll give it a go.
Well bugger me with a fish fork! It worked.
It worked once I disabled the LAN connection and reactivated the wireless link.
Hurrah!!

So I've made a request for treatment and hope to hear from them not long after they open.

Oh and the NHS out of hours service runs from 6pm till 9:30 at night. So the message is clear, don't have any dental adventures during the night.

Sleep is off the menu for what remains of the night as I am limited to the pain killers I can take due to a totally uninteresting and ongoing medical condition I have.
This is one of those time that I wish one of my toys was real.

Looks like I picked the wrong week to stop drinking


TTFN

Thanks giving...

... we don't have that over here in Blightyland.

But what would I give thanks for?
Family, friends,good food, strong drink, pretty girls, learning something new each day, science and tech'y, Star Trek, Star Wars, Babylon 5, clean(ish) air, my small mortgage, this months pension cheque, the fact that babies look like Winston Churchill, optics (both kinds), Japan (for my gadgets), living in a country where fresh water is on tap, BOOBIES!, Hydrogen and gravity fields, living now instead of the middle ages, being able to read, Terry Pratchett, Banksy, my Wii, the ratio of distance that gives us total eclipse's (quote from beeb website "The Sun is, of course, much larger than the Moon. It is 400 times bigger in fact, but it is also 400 times further away. So when they coincide in the sky, the Moon exactly blocks out the Sun."), Family Guy, American Dad, Futurama, Gerry Anderson, the airsoft guns I got before the change in law, the fact that I don't speak German, slightly odd women the world over who knit and even tho' I don't they let me play in their games, the internet, a purple goatee, an English summer (except this year), Malta, the wheel, fire, de-cafe tea and coffee and finally, again BOOBIES!

Six Hundred Bad Boys!

I can hardly believe my eyes, I keep reading it, over and over. No it hasn't changed since yesterday and it hasn't changed since the last time I checked, two minutes ago.
My pension cheque is up by £600, my rebate came thru', hip hip hip hooray!
Of course you know what this means don't you?
That next months cheque will be half its normal size, but that will be then and this is now.
My first ever (and probably last) tax rebate. So apart from the new slim and light PSP I have just bought, what can I blow the rest on?

Remember when Christmas used to be in the second half of December?
I ask the question because I think the date(s) has(have) changed. It's the 23rd of November and the lights are up and on in town, the shops are in full x-mas mode and the crowning turd in the water pipe is the house opposite who have their decorations up and the window dressed, at night it looks like Blackpool.
I actually like Christmas, no really I do. But I like Christmas to be at Christmas not just after Bonfire night. Isn't it supposed to be the twelve days of Christmas?

That being said, I'll have to start Christmas shopping soon.

Rant over.

Here's a question for those that know me.
Do I look like a vicar?

The Post Office seem to think I do and that my house looks like a vicarage. Again I got a delivery intended for some holy man in Seacombe, this time I was able to give it straight back to the posty, normally I'm not so fortunate.
It's not always the Post Office' fault as the address is sometimes half correct, house number, street name and post code. But not always.
I handed this latest parcel back to the postman and asked him if he was going to the vicarage with it this morning, he said yes, so I asked him if he wouldn't mind asking the vicar to tell everyone in his address book his correct address as I'm getting pissed off getting his mail and having to take it to the Post Office for re-direction only to get some of it back thu' the door the next day.

The laptop in the kitchen is not feeling very well, its hard drive is failing and I'm sure it wont be around in the new year.
I have two options open to me.

1. Replace the hard drive myself
2. Get a new laptop.

Decisions decisions.
If I go for option two, do I get the standard Microsoft loaded style or do I go for a Mac.

The reason I'm even thinking about getting a Mac is the fact that Windows® Vista© is ©®@p™. No one using it is happy with the fact that things that worked with xp don't work with vista. Those clever Americans refuse to buy it but we are getting it forced onto us whether we like it or not.
Will my programmes work with OSX if I get a Mac? Because sure as eggs is eggs, my stuff wont work with vista.

♫Son be a dentist♫

A few days ago, my comedy tooth ache began to get the better of me, I became sad (some might say sadder) and irritable and tired. I say it was a comedy tooth ache for just one reason, it wasn't aching all the time (I could have got used to that, well almost), no that would have been too easy and merciful. The pain came at random intervals regardless of where I was or what I was doing. A sharp stabbing pain that connected the irritated nerve in my tooth to my brain via my arse, Owwy.
So I resolved to see the Dentist, my fear and loathing of Dentists (and all their many hellish instruments of torment) have me giving the word the capital letter d. But there is a tin foil wrapping to this greyest*spelling* of grey clouds, I was going to see an N.H.S. Dentist and so would not be asked to re-mortgage my house to pay for treatment.
The fact that I was taken on by any Dentist as an N.H.S. patient rather than a private one is almost miraculous. Just before leaving the R.N. I looked around for an N.H.S. Dentist and was told at all the reception desks that I would only be taken on as a private patient (Never gonna happen).
One Sunday at my M+P's I moaned that I'd never get a Dentist, just then M pipes up that she's got an appointment with her Dentist next week and while she's there she'll ask her Dentist if she will put me on her books.
I just thought to myself, aren't mum's great. Still looking after their "little ones" no matter how old they get (take note OLPP your sprogs are still going to need you well into their 60's), but the small cynical part of my brain that still smokes and swears at nuns thought, "never gonna happen, and that foolish optimism will get you no where".
Later that week mum called me and told me my appointment day and time. I asked her to repeat what she had just said, as I had something crazy in my ear that sounded like she had succeeded. She had and in spades.
One check-up later I'm now on the N.H.S. register of the Dentists, brilliant! (I think)

Back to the present, where was I? Ah yes, I remember.
I was at the training place I go to now and then and my comedy tooth ache decided to make my life interesting.
"That's IT!", thinks I and I search for the Dentists number on line so I can give them a bell and ask to be put out of my misery.
I find their web site, I find their number, I also find an on-line booking form, how efin' cool is that, less than 5 mins later and I'm done. I then check my e-mail for the auto response, it's there and tells me they will give a confirmed date and time within 24 hours, cool. I've since seen their online booking system in the practice, it's operated by a young fella and looks devilishly complicated, in a deceptively easy kind of way. Anyhoo, I'm booked in for this Friday afternoon.

This morning at the training place, I'm working on my new mobile blog (I'm not supposed to be in 'till the afternoon) and my phone rings, I check the caller, unknown.
Hello. Yes, speaking. Oh really, I'll see you in 20 minutes. Good morning.
They had had a cancellation at the Dentists and could do me today instead of Friday, this morning in fact.
What joy.
I normally have some lead time before going to the Dentists, time to psych myself up and to find my happy place. No such bloody luck this time, oh crapppppp!

I'm now there and waiting in the first floor waiting room, with my back to the door I was to go thru' , I didn't know this at the time though. I have 10 mins to wait, this turns into 25 mins, I don't mind. While I wait, twiddling my thumbs and sweating profusely on this crisp autumnal morning, I hear the sounds of a small girl quietly sobbing and in some obvious distress and discomfort. It's coming from behind the door that I have my back to and all I could think of was, Poor little kid. Then all the wrong memories from my past come to the surface, oh craaappp!
shutupshutupshutupshutup.
Marathon man, Little shop of horrors, a string of anonymous Dentists hiding behind their masks, the surreal trip to the Dentist on H.M.S. Invinsibe when the ship was at action stations and the Dentist wore overalls and an anti-flash hood.
ihavetogetoutihavetogetoutihavetogetoutihavetogetout

The door behind me opens and a small girl is lead out by her mum and being told that she had been a very brave girl, thoughts I shared.

A few mins later the door opens again and I hear my name called.

Ask not for whom the drill whines, it whines for thee!

I have commanded men in battle but nothing ever prepares me for the Dentist's chair

I'm 8 years old again.


It is as one of Hercules' efforts that I get hold of myself and I'm told to sit in the chair, thank bob thinks I as I was close to collapsing into it any way.

Dentists don't wear masks for hygiene, no, it's so we can't identify them in a line out.
This one is female, slim, late thirties, light brown hair (hi lighted), piercing blue eyes, 5' 11" and wearing a light blue mask with white edging.

Now the unpleasantness starts. First she asks me to face her, open my mouth as wide as I can (the wide mouth frog joke runs thru' my mind just then), relax. She then sticks me with a bicycle pump with a size 10 knitting needle attached in the back of the lower jaw, right hand side. Do Dentists get special oversized stainless steel hypo's?

Efin' long story short. There was a small amount of decay but not enough to be causing all this gyp. So what is going on?
The tooth is cracked down the centre from front to back. That will be the peppered steak I had two weeks ago, or the small bit of chicken bone that I tried to chew during my last meal in the RN. I'm going for option 2.
I have a temporary filling and have to go back in two weeks, the decision will then be made to either remove the tooth or to attempt a repair.
I can hardly wait, I'm so giddy with anticipation I could just shit.
And what was the cost of this dental abuse? A mere £15.90. Bob bless the N.H.S.
Of course it would have been free had I have been an illegal immigrant.

Excuse me, I have to go supress some memories with the aid of some strong drink.

TTFN.

Angry entry

Thanks Ariva, you dicks!

The bus company that likes to provide a service that bears very little relation to the timetables that they post around the Wirral. There should be a disclaimer on all their timetables that states, "All times are acurate at time of printing, +/- 25 mins or if the drivers can give a fuck, so up yours commuter."

This company is costing me a fortune in the taxi fares it's costing me to get to the training base each day.

Why don't they amend the time tables to reflect the reality of the bus service they provide? Bastards!

I'd write to them to complain if I thought it'd do any good, but I'd probably get a visit from the rozzers for threatening and abusive behaviour.

The day has not been going well as it is, but more on that later, I just needed to rant a little.

TTFN

I may loose my account over this...(not any more)

...but I have to do it. If I was Stan Smith there would be no difference. (Except I'm not a, stem-cell research hating, right-wing, bible bashing, , xenophobe)
I'll delete this in a while, honest.

As you can see, I deleted the vid.

Breakfast with Ed (Blogstalker 8)

Breakfast is a meal that doesn't always happen in the world of Ed these days.
When I was in the RN I'd have breakfast every day, due to the fact that I was up early to go to work. The repast was normally a cooked one, scrambled egg, sausage, bacon and baked beans, two rounds of toast (with Marmite) and a glass of fresh orange juice. This was a Monday to Friday deal, 07:00 doesn't exist on Saturday or Sunday as far as I know, but lunchtime does.

Now I'm a full time civy and taking a break from work, breakfast is a hit and miss affair, sometimes it happens and some times it doesn't.
Most days see me rising at a time of day that if I where to eat anything, it should be called brunch.
Today is different.
It's a Saturday and I'm up and about before 8am. (Is the bed on fire?)*
So here is what I have for breakfast nowadays...
...oatabix and a big cup of coffee.

* I remember when I was little during the general strikes back in the mid 70's, there was a series of rolling blackouts.
I wasn't fond of the dark, so one night my mum put a candle in a jar and left it on the mantelpiece in the bedroom. What she didn't realise was that the candle would melt the plastic of the jar,oops.
A little while after I had fallen asleep I awoke coughing, I got out of bed and sleepily walked down the stairs into the front room and matter of factly announced to anyone who was listening that the bed was on fire.
All hell broke out and I remember a string of pots, pans and bowls of water being rushed up stairs.
Great days...

Li'l ol' me...(Blogstalker7?)

A few years back, I scanned into the computer hundreds of family photos, I'm fairly selective about me and photographs, so only a few managed to make it out of the box and on to the hard drive.
There where no phots of me as a baby, but lots from toddler upwards. Here is one from my days in nursery, I'm the abnormally tall freak in the foreground, I loved playing in the water.


And here's one of the whole class

I was big for my age.

Chin chin.

Spot on...

You Are Bert

Extremely serious and a little eccentric, people find you loveable - even if you don't love them! You are usually feeling: Logical - you rarely let your emotions rule you You are famous for: Being smart, a total neat freak, and maybe just a little evil How you live your life: With passion, even if your odd passions (like bottle caps and pigeons) are baffling to others

The Sesame Street Personality Quiz

Wzzat, Who's there!?

The time, 06:30

My bedroom door creaks open, with a noise worthy of any good horror movie, thoughts run thru' the woolly nogin:-

• It can't be me I live alone
• BLOODY HELL I'M BEING BURGLED!!!

In a flash I'm bolt upright in bed, half a second later I'm yanking the door open (ready to kill whatever is on the other side of the door).
Nothing there.

I now go on a tour of the house, checking all the rooms, lights on, lights off, anyone going by must have thought a very small and nimble disco had broken out.
I'm home alone.

What the hell made the door do that? May as well get up seeing as I'm wide awake and upright anyway.
Just as well this didn't happen the other day, you know, Halloween an' all that.

Another wyred thing is what happens in the front room of an evening while I watch the boob tube.
There are times that I get the feeling that there's a small person watching the tv from the front room door, odd that.

Just as well I don't believe in ghosts. I'm totally with the idea of, to quote Bezzie,
"I kind of think they might be energy remnants of dead peeps."
I've got to get a multi meter and make some sort of tri-corder to see if they're real.

Randomness during an H&S exam

Hi peeps,
I'm at that Scientiam place again today, you know, to do some more "get you back to work" training.
Ha! The laughs on them, cuz I don't wanna work.

I was supposed to be in a lecture/role play about interview techniques to day, BUT, there was an opportunity to do another health and safety qualification and in order for me to be entered for the exam I had to sit and pass 2 mock exams. It's all multi guess anyway, it's not rocket science. This one is aimed at getting you the basics needed to be safe on construction sites, not that I'm going into construction that is. No it's just another nice to have certificate.
There are loads of levels and areas of engineering and construction to do the exams at but we are only getting the basic one payed for (better than a kick in the bread tray), so I did three dummy exams and got 37/40, 36/40 and 40/40, bored now.
I know I'll do one at manager level, Hmmm, oh dear, how embarrassing 26/40 (FAIL!).
Right lets see if I'm still clued up as a supervisor for my last job, hmmm, really? hmmm, OH! 38/40, yep I still got it.

So that went swimmingly.
Ah, but I haven't told you about the randomness yet.
You know those little symbols that sit at the bottom of the screen next to the clock, the Q for quick time, the volume icon, network icon and the rest, well when I turned this computer on (I'm still at the place but it's OK it's lunch time), I watched with only half an eye on what was going on, you know, as all the little icons start to appear as their programs become active and as the network connection is established, there goes the messenger icon. Ah at last it's booted up and the hour glass has dissapeared from the pointer, right lets put the CD in the drive and start these dummy tests.
I'm on about question 7 on the first test when the conversation bar starts flashing it's head off, wtf? so out of curiosity I look at it and the name is just a load of random letters and symbols, but hidden among all this mess you could just make out the words "having a baby girl" and "gobsmacked" and "lol", as I watch it dissapears back to the system tray. I think, "Some people don't so much mangle the English language, it's more like sneaking up behind it and beating the crap out of it."
Any way next question, "What colour is a 110v ac plug?", it's yellow isn't it?
Messenger box does it's nut again, but this time I click on it, well it'd be rude to ignore it a second time.

If I thought their on-screen name was an affront to the language, their conversation was worse, it was text speak! Oh gods this girl has to be under 20 (or at least mentally). She got it into her head that the last person to use this shared computer was on line, but when I tried to tell her I wasn't who she thought I was, she then decided I must be some boy called peter (I left off putting the capital P there because she did).
"No, please try to understand. I'm not jamie or peter, I'm Ed and I'm in the middle of an exam."

"wot u is teecher thn"

(silently WHAT?!)"No, I'm one of two people in this computer room sitting online exams, the young man opposite me is called Elliot, and we're both doing the same exam and we don't know the peter or jamie you speak of."

"na its u pete"

"Look I'm a 41 year old ex service man who is doing a retraining course at a place that helps the unemployed get a job."

"pis of its u jamie"

"Seriously I'm not either of those two lads, and would you happen to know the correct method of lifting a box from above head height to the floor?"

"fuck off ur at scul and ur 41? and ur nt the teecher?

"Correct, look I have to go, bye now."

And I logged out.
A little while later I decided to mess with her head and logged back on briefly, but didn't type anything, I got this response.

"fuck you jamie it is you, but if its pete miller wants to chat"

I just laughed and logged off.