================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 198.4lbs.
I am somewhat disappointed by this as it was not a small visit to Ivor, but I'll take things as they come. As I said yesterday, Jim broke our scales, so we went to Boots for some new ones.
The queues in Boots were enormous and most of the shelves were entirely bare. What is wrong with people? Anyway, the scales were out of stock, so I bought some smaller ones and, without expecting it, recieved £15 cash-back for the inconvenience.
So I went to Next and bought a rather natty shirt to go with the flat-cap from Matalan.
I now look very much the man about town.
I weigh 199.2lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 198.8lbs.
Today is the day for small poos it would appear ;¬( In other news, Christmas day saw my lowest ever number of visitors to this site. That said, I had my laptops upstairs, out of the way, but there were a lot of you, and I mean a lot, who had nothing better to do than read about my poo.
Somehow Jim has managed to break the scales. They are happy to admit that I have applied pressure, lighting up their display in the normal manner, but they refuse to register my weight as anything more or less than 0lbs. This cannot be right. I only bought the first set of scales back in June and I had to replace them soon after that as well.
She doesn't know how she broke them, but I am now in serious trouble.
I get dressed quickly and head out to the Range, which is the closest source of weight-measuring apparatus I know of. Sadly the Range has an opening time of 1030hrs and I have an expected opening time which falls far sooner. It's a ten minute walk to Boots, but it takes more like 15 with stomach cramps.
Of course, Boots doesn't open until 1100hrs. Bum! Back to the Range.
I am sitting on the railings outside the Range and people are starting to arrive. I have never really hung around outside a non-essential store in this way and I am amused by the kind of clientèle who do. The highlight for me was the elderly lady who just kept complaining to the rest of us that "I was told ten." I am utterly at a loss to explain why she keeps telling us this, in stark contrast to the large 10:30 sign in the door, but it seems to keep her from dissolving in her rage.
Eventually we are allowed in and I weigh myself on some very expensive digital scales at a frankly shocking 202.6lbs. Sadly I am not out of the woods yet.
The gents is out of order. There is a padlock on the door.
Now I am not a man to be got down by these things and I spare not one second on the morality of my actions, before I charge to the disabled facilities, drop my trousers and sit. What it was that made me reach for a piece of paper before attending to the deed I do not know, but I can only thank the Lord that I did so. Pinching it off before it can escape I re-dress and leave - things are getting desperate now.
One thing I will say for Matalan: their customers have good bladder and bowel control - not a single lavatory in the place.
Thankfully, despite not being able to get hold of medicines or nik-naks, the residents of Exeter are able to go ten pin bowling whatever the hour of the morning.
================= I am having a poo =================
The facilities are not bad, although there is no soap in the dispenser, and I make my way back to the Range to weigh myself at 200.8lbs
I have also arranged for a painter and decorator, whom I am related to, to come on Wednesday and do some work (Yay!) and am now going to take the old scales back to Boots with a fearful level of complaint in my heart.
In other news, Harry the hamster went back to his owners' last night, which has left my bedroom eerily silent.
RAIN! SO much rain it is just silly. About 3 miles out from my parent's house and I was driving through around 3 inches of surface water and nearly turned back. Eventually I stopped at Matthewparker and Ayse's for a cup of tea whilst the storm blew itself out.
Now I am at home and I weigh 197.5lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 196.3lbs and am still eating ham.
On a walk this afternoon a young lad (well, about 28) cycled past the pushchair and the children without holding his handlebars. This annoys me - I am a cyclist and I know how, especially off road, things can suddenly go horribly wrong.
"Hold on to the handlebars with both hands when you cycle past my children, if you would!" I shouted. "What did you say?", replies the somewhat unexpectedly angry young male. "TWO HANDS past the babies please!" "I've only got one fucking hand."
Now I have not sworn this badly before in this log, but yes, he only had one fucking hand.
My point stands regarding cycling past children without holding on, but I don't really think I can get away without a little embarrassment here.
Team Manley are visiting Grandma and Old Man for a second Christmas. Sadly the smallest members are all still ill, so visits to the Great-Grandparent and Great-Great-Aunt have to be postponed.
Still, a night with a television is an unusual draw for me - presumably it is the very lack of such a device in my life which makes it so enthralling when one is present, but Kill Bill had me enraptured in an orgy of visual stimulus.
Food, presents, food, booxe, food, family fun, food, walks, food, sleep and food all around.
I weigh 90.8kg according to Old Man's scales, so about 200.2lbs
================== I am having a poo ==================
I weigh 89.6kg, so about 197.5lbs
Wait! I was deceived!
================== I am having a poo ==================
================== I am having a poo ==================
I weigh 191.9lbs
I am also back at work. I was a bit lonely this morning and annoyed that nobody else was here, but Matthewparker turned up just as I became annoyed and My wife, children, friends and acquaintances should be coming to meet me for lunch as well, so all is well.
Mammoth poo this morning though, eh? Have a beetle opener:
================== I am having a poo ==================
I weigh 191.8lbs.
We have had Jim's parents here since Christmas eve and now have Tom and Charlie-boots. We also had Matthewparker and Ayse on the eve and Team Gibbard on Christmas morning.
As with yesterday, only having two days off means that I don't want to waste them here (sorry, I love you all, but at the end of the day, you cannot leave me and take half my house with you).
I understand that the King George Chase was dull though?
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 190.2lbs
It is Christmas eve and I have arrived at work to find that a server fell over last night.
That wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact that I checked (after prompting) last night and failed to see that it had happened. I am not quite sure how.
Anyway, it's quite nice in the office. There are only the CTO and myself here and he is an amiable chap. Sadly I have plenty of non-seasonal work to get done for a client in the new year, but such is life.
By working over Christmas I can have days off in the summer which I would otherwise not be able to have. Working is a small price to pay.
I weigh 197.4lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 196.8lbs
Yesterday I was paid a compliment. A lady told me that, well , I'll let her tell you:
I am 62, well nearly 62, so there is no embarrassment for me to say that you have a very beautiful face. You should wear your hair up more often, you are a very beautiful young man.
Well, an interesting start to the day; after being really very unwell yesterday I am merely feeling under the weather now and I elected to head off to ring the bells for the last time before Christmas (I don't do campanology on Christmas day - I stay at home with my family).
First of all I had to nuke the children's hair. One of the biggest problems with school age children is nits. I can completely strip the eldest child's head of lice and eggs (they show up very clearly in her very blonde hair) and the next night she is crawling with them again. My approach to this is that I empty her head of them every night - it is strange having a child with lice but no eggs - and then at half terms and school holidays I nuke them.
Things have changed a lot since I was a boy and a bit of orange smelling shampoo killed off a headful of lice. These days those weaker lice are all dead and what remains is a super breed. I have tried many, many products, from the full on chemical attack through to hippy remedies and electric combs and trust me, 12 hours of prioderm is the only thing which kills the eggs, at least of our Exeter lice.
Lice are the bane of any parent's existence and anyone who tells you that their children never et them and stand aloof is either a liar or is too idle to check their children. Excluding the common cold for a moment, head lice infestation is a more common infestation all the other childhood communicable conditions combined with around 20 million people suffering at least one infestation each year.
Anyway, this done I defrosted the car and toddled off to church. When I got there, after accidentally thoroughly scaring a young mother who had left her lights on - in the early morning mist I thought it was my light reflecting on her car and proceeded to flash my lights in an attempt to extinguish them, following which Marky turned up and we walked towards the church past her car, at which she sent her child running off and locked herself in the vehicle - I found that the church was still locked.
Now, there is a rumour that there is a key hidden somewhere for the outside toilet, but I have never found it. I proposed, since the graveyard was already being used as a urinal by our resident retired policeman, to try once again to locate it. Instead I found a bomb.
Lent up against the rear door of the church, held in place with a rock, was what appeared to be 7 candles, held together in a roll by some string and coated in red wax. Poking out of the top of this was a fuse. To begin with I though that this eas merely some sort of toy, but when I cut the wax away with my trusty Opinel I found what resembled thunder flashes inside.
Now, explosives on their own are not going to do a whole heap of damage, but this was a fair old size - about the size of a 500ml can of McEwen's 80/ (and not at all the size of any other canned beer at all, ever, no siree) or, indeed, 7 full sized candles - so it could potentially start a fire or put out the church window or, at the very least, throw the rock on top of it a goodly distance.
Lacking a suitable open space to set it off in, I decide to call the police in to deal with it. Sadly, reporting IEDs takes a fair old time, so I miss raising the bells and have to deal with the church warden.
Many years ago a young man came into church one morning and then left, before the service and with a handbag he had not arrive with. This has bred the sort of paranoia within the church that those who cling to authority and power thrive on. The outcome is that self appointed officials hang around the entrances and exits with the sole aim of shouting at anyone who leaves a door unlocked.
As I am standing outside the bell tower door, trying to finish my conversation with the bomb-squad switchboard operator, along comes the warden who steps through the door as I make room for her and tries to lock me out. I have to try to carry out two conversations at once as the policeman is asking me for details and trying to ensure that this is not a hoax and I am also fighting a losing battle against bloody mindedness. No matter that I am standing right outside the doorway, just think who might break in whilst the door is left unlocked.
Eventually I place my foot in the jam of the door and with a friendly 'Do you mind terribly minding your own business?' the warden is seen off and my conversation with the officer, who clearly cannot believe that I could be making this up and is sending out a van, comes to an end and I make my way up to the ropes for a ring, making sure to lock the door behind me. No sooner have I closed the trap door when I hear what can only be referred to as 'a kerfuffle'.
Two police officers are trying to get through the main door of the church, but the church warden is trying to explain that the service doesn't start until ten and they will have to wait. That ridiculous situation bypassed by means of being an overly aggressive copper, I take the officers to where I have hidden the device (not wanting to bring it indoors or leave it for kids to find), they inspect it and it is taken away with surprisingly little difficulty.
I manage to squeeze back in the door just in time before the zealot shuts it (this is no feeble writer's licence, she was at the door, in the act of closing it on my approaching form) but then am harangued. No matter that the device was discovered before the warden arrived, I should not have taken any action without informing her, because I am the church warden, I need to know everything.
I am ashamed to say that I raised my finger and eyebrows as if I were about to speak and then, as she paused to hear what I had to say, turned on my heel and walked away from the battleaxe.
A successful ring later I took the car up to the university where I know of a tree which is infested with mistletoe, then down to the pines to collect a scuttle-full of pine cones for the fire and off to the woods for a decent chunk of holly.
I weigh 191.9lbs.
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 190.3lbs Not too dull a start to the day - I might think about some lunch in a bit.
Who'd want to sped a penny where the old man shat?
I weigh 202.8lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 201.3lbs
Despite a Chinese meal last night and an Indian take-away this evening, I did not need to visit Ivor until nearly eleven o'clock this evening, yet I still appear to be somewhat overweight, even by my standards from before I changed my target weight.
I also really do not care.
I had an alarmingly productive day today and will have to put in some serious apathy time if I am going to get back to a normal standard.
The problem with working in a US-centric industry is that I find myself staying up until midnight to chat with Merkins about engine behaviour when I really should be in bed with my wife.
Damn, but I'm just too good.
Best part of today? We were listening to the 12 days of Christmas and the bit about Geese, what is that? Seven?
No, That's Maids a milking. Hmm. 7 swans a-swimming - SWANS! what was I thinking about with the maids, eh? 7 swans a-swimming 6 geese a-laying, 5 go-old rings. I could have stopped when I realised it was 6, but I like the gold rings bit, it always brings me out in Christmas cheer.
Anyway, I digress, we were at day six or, at the very least, on one of the later days and just passing through the laying geese, en-route back down to the inevitable partridge, when the server suddenly and catastrophically died.
This resulted in a transformation of the office from a subtle, warming, Christmassy hue to a hard-house techno delight as we were exposed to a full four minutes of GEESE!GEESE!GEESE!GEESE!GEESE!GEESE!GEESE!GEESE!GEESE!GEESE!GEESE!GEESE!GEESE!GEESE!GEESE!
Imagine the annoying boy from number 12, the one who always wears that beige check scarf and the silly jeans that he obviously hasn't got a belt for, with the music turned up in his 1989 Peugot.
Yesterday I stayed at home and I managed to stay in my dressing gown, and nothing else, right through the day.
My plan was to complete the whole 24 hours which constitute Tuesday without getting dressed at all.
I weigh 192.8lbs.
================= I am having a poo =================
I weight 191.7lbs.
The Dagnall coming to visit last night was a mixed blessing. It's always a delight to see the chap, he's a good friend, I like him a lot and spending time with the Dagnall is never tiring as some friends can be (as anyone who considers My Lordship a friend can attest to). On the flip side, he rocked up at about 2130hrs, right when I was on the final straight to bed time and, with my goal in sight, I had to don some trousers.
I was half tempted to stay at home today just to try again.
My children, as I have been saying, are appearing in a radio advert and today it went live. Any UKRD radio station should be covering it and, with Ayse, Matthewparker, Kate, Ben and the Dagnall visiting last night I insisted we listen to Pirate FM until we heard them.
If you wish to inflict it upon yourselves then it is available via the Savebuckets.com media page, where you can also see a nice video of My Lordship in arm-bands. Follow the 'Sounds of Savebuckets' link and they are the two jingles with the word 'Kids' in the title, the longer version of which is here.
I weigh 200.2lbs and am about to eat Chinese food.
================= I am having a poo =================
I have been up all night. My middle child has diarrhoea and is too young to wipe herself, so every 15 minutes I was up cleaning up the mess. Added to this, the baby woke up every time I left the room and screamed all night long.
Being the loving husband that I am I swapped places with Jim so that she could get some sleep - no point in both of us being awake and it's far better I get ill than she does, what with breast feeding and all that jazz.
Anyway, now it is morning and time for me to visit Ivor. Fingers crossed for some semblance of solidity, eh? I weigh 192.4lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 189.5lbs, which is nice, but consistency is not good. I am working from home this morning to look after the sick daughter, but I still can't really afford to get ill.
If nothing else, in all the rushing around, I might miss a weight.
In other news, the video we made back in November is now done:
Happily, the draft version we put up at www.youtube.com/watch?v=oEViLNawe3Y is the 21st most linked to and the 62nd most viewed comedy youtube video this week.
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 192.1lbs. My wife only weighs 96.1lbs, which is quietly alarming. Surely I should not be twice as big as another full grown human being?
Anyway, on with the blog. Last night, and I should prepare you for this by telling you how little I enjoy beetroot in its usual non-pickled forms, I ate:
2 roast beetroot
1 boiled beetroot (baby food - I hate this stuff)
454grams of pickled beetroot, including the vinegar
Now, I was linked to by this Greenfingers chap some time ago and I have only just gotten around to following up on it.
As far as I am concerned, boiled beetroot can just go right to hell. Were I the devil or, let's at least be a little realistic about this, a minor demon, I'd want boiled beetroot to annoy the denizens with.
Tyrells do excellent beetroot crisps which they, quite legitimately, describe as Like little works of art, Tyrrells beetroot chips are as beautiful as they are tasty. Hand fried in small batches, our beetroot chips can be found in the Tyrrells hall of fame – as a 2004 Silver Gold taste Award Winner. For myself though, I'd say that, although the beetroot ones are my favourite, they work so much better when combined with the carrot and parsnip crisps in the Hand Fried Vegetable Chip packet. Delicious crispy goodness best bought from Green Ginger
So, to experiment. I weigh 196.4lbs.
======================= I am having a purple poo =======================
Matthewparker and his lady friend have returned from sunny Cyprus.
Little do they know that I weigh 191.9lbs.
================= I am having a poo =================
The Dagnall has come to visit as well, so we can all eat impala and Bison sausgaes and roast chicken together. Everyone else weighing in at considerably less than my own 190.5lbs.
Well, it's time to arrange for our newest daughter's Christening.
I weigh 196.2lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 190.4lbs.
The vicar came to visit to discuss this and Jim managed to avoid too much contact. As a non-believer, she fully supports my decision to have my children accepted as members of the church, but she always feels awkward around vicars after the chap who was to preside over our wedding tried quite aggressively to convert her. Which is fair.
Anyway, we are sorting this all out for the 3rd February now, which is nice. I must do some work now, but I have no doubt that I will talk about this more.
================== I am having a poo ==================
I weigh 191.5lbs
I am sooo excited about my bike it is just untrue.
I weigh 199.6lbs
================== I am having a poo ==================
I weigh 198.2lbs
The bike shop let me take the frame away and spray it before they put the new forks etc. on it and they saw how excited I was, so they have stripped it and had it powder coated, got original decals from Dawes, put new wheels on, put leather bar tape, a leather seat and cork bar ends on - they have given me gear shifters on the brake levers, all new grey cables, new rings, front and back - basically I have my old frame straightened and powder coated, my old seat post and my old clipless pedals.
It looks amazing and I need to get pedals now as, well sod it, who cares about clipless when she's that beautiful?
Additionally I went ice skating at the Eden project yesterday, where I learnt that I am not good at ice skating, but I fall well.
I lso got excellently drunk last night.
Wearing a father Christmas costume bears huge responsibilities which I had not considered when I set out this morning.
I learned things, I decorated my car, I had a Land Rover roll back into the front of me, I learned that wearing a Santa outfit when means you have to behave, I learned that red felt leaves convincing bloodstains on ice, I saw fantastic foliage and I have better music taste than Banana.
Leaving Russ Abbott aside, and I think we all agree that this is the best course of action,
today is the day that the techies have their picnic.
We are all off to The Eden Project, and I have to take this opportunity to tip my hat to Dave's dad for his work there at this juncture, where I believe there has been talk of ice skating.
Last time I went ice skating, Jim got pregnant. Since there are no females in our company at all at the moment, I am hoping to get away with it Scott free this time around.
As I have a seven seater Delica, I am driving, as is Benji in his Land Rover (why we need off road vehicles for the A30 I couldn't say, but there you go!).
I have a Father Christmas outfit and have installed Christmas lights and tinsel in the car, as well as filling the retracting roof panels with crackers which I can then release during the journey from the front.
I hope it all goes well! I weigh 194.1lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 188.7lbs.
Now that's a good start to the day.
UPDATE:
I weigh exactly 200lbs.
=================== I am having another poo ===================
I weigh 199.5lbs - Father Christmas outfits are heavy. I'm not wearing one yet, of course, but they are heavy.
Somehow I find timekeeping harder when at home. I started working at about ten to nine this morning and, apart from eating some lunch Jim prepared for me and putting the girls to bed, worked right through to midnight.
I weigh 193.5lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 191.5lbs
I find that I work better at night as well, which is odd. Perhaps I am secretly an American?
On Saturday I carried a fridge-freezer home on my own. It was behind a wall so I pulled it up by standing on top of the wall and lifting it vertically 4' (about 1219.2mm) first.
I am an idiot really, considering my previous spinal injuries, but I am loathe to cross Jim when she's, well . . awake, really.
Around twenty to nine last night I was quite suddenly in a quite considerable amount of chest pain. It was on the right, almost in my side, about 4 finger widths below and about 2 finger widths out from my right nipple and there was no way I could drive.
After speaking to the doctor I arranged for Ben to drive me to the hospital where some tests showed that I was not using my right lung properly.
I am not a doctor, but the overall impression I got is that I tore the muscles between my ribs lifting the fridge-freezer and, presumably because I kept up the strain, blood was able to fill the (small) voids in the tear and, somehow, act as padding.
What happened last night seems to have been the blood escaping from the tears, resulting in catastrophic pain.
Since this is all attributable to carrying a fridge freezer across the road, it probably wouldn't hurt so much if it wasn't for the fact that the new one is now being delivered on Thursday and this one taken away.
Anyway, a bit of pain isn't worth blogging about, but it is relevant to my central theme. It is pure chance that this should happen in the 3% of my life to date which this experiment will constitute when complete.
I have a strange habit of laughing when in pain. The ridiculousness of being incapacitated always grabs me. This is particularly idiotic when I have a chest injury because, in a cruel and vicious circle, the more I laugh, the more I am in pain and the more I laugh. Given that I was actually vomiting from pain at one point last night this seems daft.
Certainly the doctor seemed somewhat confused, but he countered with 'you haven't heard the best bit yet', upon which he produced a suppository.
Now, given the importance of all things faecal at the moment, I immediately asked if I could do it.
I think the doctor was a little put out that I did it myself. He reacted badly, as if I was calling him gay and that bothered him (which it would not have done me) but the truth is that I wanted to be able to stop if it hurt, if you know what I mean? Sometimes it's easier to bear discomfort if you carry out the procedure yourself. It's a shame because he was a nice doctor.
It took me two attempts and, if anyone wants to know anything about suppositories, then I'd offer this advice:
Suppositories are cold.
I weigh something in the region of 195lbs
======================= I am inserting a suppository =======================
I weigh around 500mg + a small amount of what looks like candle wax more.
It being morning now, I actually weigh 196.5lbs
================== I am having a poo ==================
I weigh 194lbs and was pleased to note that, what with it being 13 hours later, I will have absorbed all the pain relief by now.
By way of an apology for an unusually graphic post, I shall leave you with a Toy Dolls track which frankly has an appalling video:
As we arrived home last night my good lady wife noticed that the family across the road were moving out and that they had a fridge-freezer which they no longer wanted.
I was dispatched to collect this.
I will say this in Jim's defence: at no point did she tell me I had to carry the appliance. I did however carry the appliance. I also defrosted and installed it.
Then on Sunday I took Jim shopping for a Fridge Freezer.
I liked this black one, but in the end I couldn't justify paying £82 extra just to have it in black with a chrome sign reading 'Daewoo' on the front, so we settled for the This better value which a white version offered.
It arrives on Thursday, I am a lot poorer and it had better be good enough. I want an American style side-by-side jobby, but they seem to all be too deep, so that's right out.
I weigh 196.7lbs
================== I am having a poo ==================
Last night our friend Thomas turned up at around sevenish from wherever he is avoiding the law from at the moment. I always find it best not to ask, since I have no desire to be in any position to pass the information on.
Of late he has been far from contactable, having thrown one telephone in the sea whilst out on a short voyage and then, in an attempt to demonstrate the waterproof qualities of the replacement, proved only that advertising is not all it is cracked up to be.
I weigh 193lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 190.4lbs.
Poor Thomas is trying to sleep in the living room, but I can hear the children pestering him from here. I think they may be forcibly providing him with the means to break his fast, which, since they are far more likely to be providing him with muesli or fruit and fibre than a snout and a cheap imported lager, cannot end well.
For lunch today we went out to Tai Pai Dong, a Waggamamma style noodle bar, but much better.
When we got there it was fairly full and, since there were 7 of us, we decided upon the pub and proceeded there, icking up Matthewparker's girlfriend along the way. [EDIT: Ickling up? I meant to say 'picking up', obviously - thanks to Jason for the proof reading service.]
At the pub we were given a hearty welcome and lead to our table, which was festooned with crackers and Christmas regalia.
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 191lbs
Now, this is difficult.
I have made a short, amateur and badly done film. I think it is funny, but it is most definitely rude. I want to share it, but I do not want to offend anyone.
It is NSFW because it contains the F word, both in text on the page and being sung in the video.
I am going to link to my NSFW film, but please remember, it is rude.
If this makes no sense to you and doesn't seem at all funny then I will point you at the sources:
Yesterday was poo. I got a parking ticket - there's no point worrying, my permit had run out (not at the END of December as I had thought) and I got a ticket. I do have a permit for the purpose, but I was too busty worrying about the burned baby and forgot to put it in the window of the car and it cost me a fine for Christmas.
Such is life.
I weigh 191.6lbs
================ I am having a poo ================
I weigh 189.8lbs.
Tomo, on the other hand, weighs fifteen and a half stone, which is far too heavy for a space hopper.
The result of which is a sore bum for Tomo and a broken space hopper.
Which, of course, ended with Rowan running around with fake breasts.
I weigh 196.8lbs
================ I am having a poo ================
I feel rougher than the proverbial badger's posterior.
I also weigh a whopping 199.8lbs, which is far from perfect.
================= I am having a poo =================
A 1lb poo later and I weigh a tired 198.8lbs. Everyone was irritable last night (except the middle child, in her defence) and the smallest Manley was up in the night.
I picked her up and walked about for an hour or so with her gazing adoringly at me the whole time in silence, but with the clear message that she was awake and that this was a state of consciousness which she intended to maintain.
I weigh 201lbs now.
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 198.6lbs
Getting a bit tubby again it seems. Anna will be pleased. Have a pun:
UPDATE:
I weigh 198.9lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 197.2lbs
Ill babies make for many poos.
ANOTHER UPDATE:
I weigh 198.2lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh a surprisingly heavy 199.3lbs, this Monday morning.
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 193lbs.
I have terrible wind from a rather splendid roast chicken I had last night. Since methane is heavier than air I suppose that this constitutes weight loss?
Last night I had to run Adam up to the hospital - he went out on the Warren with his kite and managed to jump into a gust which took him up 30' or so. Understandably he bailed and seems to be pretty busted up, his kite is wet and he's got serious gashes to his arms, as well as what would appear to be a broken foot.
As my neighbour would have said, That'll learn 'im.
Here's a joke (apparently Benedict XVI is addicted to cats):
I'm going to have to go back up to Haldon again today to give a talk to the Taunton freeride group (along with the Okefreeriders) on the setting up of a not-for-profit organisation and the development of some North Shore building, maintyenance and inspection standards.
I weigh a very tired 196.7lbs
================== I am having a poo ==================
We have been working at Haldon for a long time now, and today we are doing some cross-country trailbuilding.
Named 'Red Run Rescue', David Harvey, who has been contracted outside of the Haldon Freeride organisation to work on the rebuilding of the main x-country trail, after it was washed away in the quarry collapse last year, asked if we would assist him.
Since the other 15 or so volunteers are not normally in the woods building, the Geniu and I worked on hauling rocks out of the quarry and transporting them to the site.
Five slightly overloaded trips later and we had a good pile of three ton of rock, the larger ones we moved in under the steam of a power barrow. This is only marginally better, off-road, than a standard wheelbarrow and, for smaller rocks, is worse.
I ran my foot over countless times, but the journey back, riding in the bucket, was marginally more fun than having my teeth pulled.
I am utterly exhausted and weigh 193.1lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
Tonight I am off to the opening night of an unusual exhibition. On Red Lion Lane in Exeter is Exeter Art Spaces, where one of the directors is Ruth, a good friend of Jim's from art school.
It was a little like visiting a final exhibition for an A-level or University course. The variety was huge, but so was the standard, ranging from GCSE standard daubs, through to some really well formed sculptures.
I weigh 194.7lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 193.5lbs.
A boy who went to school with my sister was there - I must remember to tell her. Also, there is a man in town who I see quite often who looks like a chap I served with in 1RHA. He looks enough like him that, the first time I saw him, I approached him with a hearty 'hey-ho there Kitkat!' and, on the strength of this, have greeted him ever since.
It is nice to know that he has a real name, which is Sam.
I weigh 196.4lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 194lbs
The highlights for me were Adrian Scragg's work, which Jim tells me I am not allowed to buy until I put up a picture rail, a splendid piece of celebrity art which was priced at >£60,000 and made me chuckle for some time, and some rather splendid little sculpted 'stones' by a gentleman called Rolf who seemed a little put out that anyone exhibited who was not in the studio every single day and thus presumably was unemployed.
Oh, and the giant stainless steel head must get a mention as well, so: 3.6lbs of poo and a goodly load of art.
Ideal.
Here's an updated version of the Bert image from Tuesday:
I am desperate for a poo. This wouldn't normally be a problem, but I have no idea where the scales are. They are suspicious in their absence from the old exec. office, they are clearly not in the board room and the conference room and pods are all devoid of mass calculation hardware.
In short, I cannot poo.
I have asked around and everyone denies all knowledge. Actually, that's not true, everyone denies knowledge of the whereabouts of the scales, but they are being coy about whether they might know who does know. Who would tell a direct lie here?
David bloody Gregory!
I have found the scales on Old Greg's lap and now weigh 195lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 194.6lbs and now realise that, if I am to put up with these kind of shenanigans, I am going to have to up my game.
Young David Tapp alerted me to a new drug craze, sweeping the nation.
Information Bulletin New Drug - JENKEM
On 09/19/07 Cpl. Disarro received and email from a concerned parent regarding a new drug called "Jenkem." The parent advised their child learned about this drug through various conversations with several students at Palmetto Ridge High.
Jenkem originated in Africa and other third world countries by fermenting raw sewage to create a gas which is inhaled to achieve a high. Jenkem is now a popular drug in American Schools. Jenkem is a homemade substance which consists of fecal matter and urine. The fecal matter and urine are placed in a bottle or jar and covered most commonly with a balloon. The container is then placed in a sunny area for several hours or days until fermented. The contents of the container will separate and release a gas, which is captured in the balloon. Inhaling the gas is said to have a euphoric high similar to ingesting cocaine but with strong hallucinations of times past.
Once ingested the onset of the high takes approximately 10 seconds with the most severe hallucinations happening in approximately 20 minutes. Several articles indicate that the subject immediately passes out after ingesting the gas then regains a magical/hallucinogenic state within seconds of regaining consciousness. The high has been described by subjects as a feeling of "being out of it" and talking to dead people. The feeling of being "out of it" may last for several hours or days.
All subjects who used the Jenkem disliked the taste of sewage in their mouth and the fact that the taste continued for several days.
Slang terms: Winnie, Shit, Runners, Fruit from Crack Pipe, Leroy Jenkems, Might, Butthash, and Waste.
Now Snopes calls this Urban Legend False, but then goes on to provide a nice slack handful of evidence to suggest that the story is true, including the fact that this information bulletin is genuine.
Snopes often jumps to its feet at the chance to debunk something, but this is exceptional, even for the website, basing the False verdict on the fact that jenkem is not a popular drug in American schools and the words of a school student, over a whole heap of stated sources over 17 years, including a rather nice BBC article on the subject.
Looks to me like kids are getting high on poo. I suspect that they'd get a similar result by holding their breath for a while or sucking a car exhaust, but there we go - I do enjoy overzealous debunking though, it smacks of a level of hypocrisy which makes Manley smile.
I weigh 196lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
The ankles refer to the youngest member of Team Manley, who's dressing is now covering mere scar tissue, with no open wound at all and a lot of healling going on.
Clearly I have actually got ankles as well.
Struggling to make sense, I weigh 194.8lbs
================== I am having a poo ==================
I weigh 192.8lbs, so a nice round numbered poo today.
First of all, I should like to apologise for yesterday's post, which covered the entire weekend.
I spent Saturday ripping out the kitchen and putting in a new sink, followed by an evening with guests and parents and Chinese food.
On Sunday I spent the day with my family (nuclear, that is) and then had other guests and Chinese food in the evening.
I did take the time to weigh myself and to record my excretions, but I was not in a position to write very much as I was busy. In other news, my laptop is partially mended, which was a nice result.
I have just realised that my MOT ran out several days ago. I weigh 194.4lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I have now booked my MOT for TODAY at Alphington Fast Fit and dropped the old Delica off, so at least I won't get fined.
I'd better check the tax and insurance later on, eh?
A disabled woman, looked like an octogenarian, pulled across in front of me as I approached the office, causing me to get stuck against her wing. She then shouted abuse at me for several minutes, whilst my colleagues watched and, on occasion, cheered.
Choice moments include:
"I didn't pull out in front of you, you were far away!" I am ashamed to admit that I had suddenly stopped being far away, in order to suddenly be on her wing, using my quantum bicycle.
"You think you have the right to the road!" Strangely, I always have thought this. I can only remain eternally grateful that she pointed out the error of my ways.
In response to my saying that I had right of way, as dictated by the white lines across the end of the road she had exited: "Yes, and you should be on those white lines."
In response to my "Did you not hear me shouting?" That's just the problem, you were shouting and not keeping out of my way.
Indicating the road: You shouldn't be on here, this is for cars.
I ended by saying Please, please don't go away from this thinking that some oik was in your way in the street. Please learn that today you pulled out without due care and nearly killed a cyclist.
Sadly I was angry with her, not for pulling out on me, but for being so dim, and added: Now go away and think about it, you silly little girl. If you were any younger I'd put you over my knee and spank you.
I weigh 195.6lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 191.2 - It didn't seem that big, but I'm not complaining.
I stumbled upon this YouTube video documenting the plight of the Great Apes of Borneo. Just before the thirteen minute mark it begins to detail the life of Pony, an orang-utan who was used as a sex-toy. Pony was shaved every couple of days and sold in a brothel which also offered human whores. In Borneo palm oil production (for lip salve, ice cream, chocolates, and cheese crackers) which, pretty much equal with soya now, represents the largest destroyer of habitat on the planet, already accounts for more orang-utan suffering than elsewhere. Now those who destroy that habitat and rape the land seem to want to rape the refugees as well.
Pony is an orang-utan from a prostitute village in Borneo. We found her chained to a wall, lying on a mattress. She had been shaved all over her body.
If a man walked near her, she would turn herself around, present herself, and start gyrating and going through the motions. She was being used as a sex slave. She was probably about six or seven years old when we rescued her, but she had been held captive by a madam for a long time. The madam refused to give up the animal because everyone loved Pony and she was a big part of their income. They also thought Pony was lucky, as she would pick winning lottery numbers.
When asked whether the 'clients' realized that they were in fact getting an orang-utan, rather than the more traditional Great Ape, the human, Michelle's response is astounding:
Oh yeah, they would come in especially for it. You could choose a human if you preferred, but it was a novelty for many of the men to have sex with an orang-utan. They shaved her every other day, which meant that her skin had all these pimples and was very irritated. The mosquitoes would get to her very badly and the bites would become septic and be very infected, as she would scratch them constantly. They would put rings and necklaces on her. She was absolutely hideous to look at.
It took us over a year to rescue her, because every time we went in with forest police and local officers we would be overpowered by the villagers, who simply would not give her up. They would threaten us with guns and knives with poison on them. In the end it took 35 policemen armed with AK-47s and other weaponry going in there and demanding that they hand over Pony. It was filmed by a local television crew and in the background of the film when we are unchaining Pony you can hear the madam crying hysterically, screaming, “They are taking my baby, you can’t do this!” There is no law enforcement in Indonesia so these people didn’t face any sentence or anything for what they had done.
I found this surprisingly alarming, but mostly it amazes me how much sex dictates the way we, as a species, act and also how much emphasis we, in the West, put on the treatment and welfare of animals. I have no doubt at all that the human prostitutes in that village were treated far worse than Pony. Indeed, according to Unicef:
In Indonesia, it is estimated that 100,000 children and women are trafficked each year. Child prostitution is on the rise, and one third of the sex workers are being under 18 years old. The underlying causes of child trafficking include poverty and lack of economic opportunities for young people, the low status of girls, high demand for commercial sex, cheap labour, weak law enforcement, discrimination and conflict. Surveys on trafficking and sexual exploitation conducted in East Asia, including in Indonesia, show that trafficking of children is lucrative, well organized and linked to criminal activity and corruption. It is also transnational, often hidden and therefore hard to combat.
I have to wonder exactly why we are focussing on the orang-utan. I weigh 195.4lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 193.8lbs. I think I need to diet.
I heard a complaint from the chap who runs Binary Dinosaur that a rather rummy sort of chap on the locomotive was shouting into his mobile telephone. I offered the suggestion that he answer the telephonist's every word, thus:
Him:"Hi!" You:"Hi!" Him:"Have you spoken to Ellie about the audit yet" You:"What audit? I don't know what you are talking about" Him:"I need it by tonight." You:"Well then, you've hardly given me sufficient warning, have you?" Him:"Sorry, some nutter is shouting at me on the train." You:"it's annoying when that happens, isn't it?" Him:"I'll call you back." You:"I don't remember giving you my number"
I also sing opera loudly and badly when I experience chavcasts. This generally gets a response along the lines of 'Shut up, you can't sing' to which I retort 'And your 'phone speaker cannot handle that volume', shrug and continue.
Since I'm on a roll, I always say 'you're welcome' to people who fail to say thank you.
Having travelled up to Bristol yesterday to see the plastic surgeon and the burns consultant, it looks very much as though the youngest member of Team Manley shall not have to an operation just yet.
I have pressure dressings for her, which look like clear neoprene and make a synthetic puss to soothe the burn for now. We have these changed every couple of days and then go back in 2 weeks, but the crux of the matter is that I had no need to stay in Bristol last night after all.
Generally this is all positive stuff and the burns look much less concerning now. I weigh 196lbs.
================== I am having a poo ==================
I weigh 193lbs and now, having wasted two days holiday on a sick child (I had already booked the holiday for Jim's birthday weekend, before the baby got burned) I am suddenly up to my ears in work again, so i must return to the grindstone and try to plumb deeper the mysteries of search.
Fortunate, as I am, to share my house with the ever lovely Jim, yesterday I got to play host for her birthday meal.
With all the ruckus which has been going on of late, the large party wasn't really in keeping, so we settled for a few of our closer friends and a curry.
I made 5 quarts of vegan curry, a gallon of rice, two wok lids full of poppadoms, a dozen or so naan breads, some yoghurt, mint, cucumber and lemon dips as well as providing plenty of chutneys, including the rather splendid Tiptree Hit Gooseberry, as recommended by the ever lovely Mr Giles Patterson.
We had fairy cakes in the afternoon, with visitors of the parent variety (that is to say, friends with children, rather than our parents) followed by finishing the shelves in the kitchen (and they are rather super, if I say so myself, and I do) rebuilding the French Windows and making more food.
Eventually we just settled down with just a dozen of us and got properly stuffed. Kev brought some cider, which Manley is not normally allowed (it goes by the moniker 'Angry Manley' around these parts) and I managed to vaguely behave despite this, for most of the evening.
After all that food, I weigh a, frankly gargantuan 199.7lbs
================== I am having a poo ==================
Wow! 194lbs! That's a 6.7lb poo! Not my largest, but certainly weighty and a little bit of a burner at that.
I still need to lose a little weight, if I am going to get back down to the ideal weight I have arbitrarily chosen for myself. The rain is bad enough that the birthday visit to the car boot sale which Jim was after has been cancelled.
================== I am having a poo ==================
I weigh 192.6lbs and I am going to have a bath now.
Worry seems to be incredibly tiring.
I went for a client meeting on Monday, before discovering that the baby had been taken to hospital in Bristol, and it was one of the best meetings I have been to. Generally I outline issues, present solutions and then the exec I am meeting with goes away, tells what they remember of it to the CTO, who mumbles something, writes down what he thinks is actually important down and it is ignored by the programmers. It's irritating in the extreme, but there it is.
On Monday I made a few quite heavy suggestions from a corporate perspective, including a fairly serious re-brand, but the CTO was in the meeting, as was a programmer and the MD just said 'Okay, shall we do that?' they said yes and it was settled. Assuming the changes are implemented, I shall be a very happy bunny.
The only strange thing was that, even though they are a serious company, not Firebox or IWWOOT, but a grown-up company for grown-ups to work in, there was porn in the gent's.
I mean, it's artistic porn, but it's porn, none the less.
Now wash your hands
The image by the sink was merely erotic, displaying as it did a lady(?) on her knees, facing away from the camera, wearing elements of undergarments.
Down the corridor, beside the lone urinal, was a different matter. This nubile young thing is wearing only panties and these are pulled in at the sides, displaying all.
Please be careful where you point that.
I don't mind, I was just surprised. It was, all in all, a surprisingly good meeting all 'round.
I'm getting pretty much entirely over-run by stress concerning the baby now. Quite aside from scar management, they think that the burn on her joint may affect mobility if it isn't operated on, but we find out on Monday.
They'll operate on Tuesday if they can, they're worried about TSS because of the size and depth of the burns, but I can't help been terribly afraid of the outcome when one mixes general anaesthetic and 5 month old babies.
I walked Jim and the younger two up towards the surgery at lunch time and popped into the bike shop to explain that I have now received a cheque for £135 less than the invoice from the van who ran me over. They asked if I wanted my frame to spray and said that they could strip her down in 10 minutes.
No, having stripped a bike I know that 10 minutes is too short a time and was most amused. Ben took 9 minutes, but used unusual methods:
NOoooooOooOoo0000!
And the 9 minutes included everything, from wheels to lugs
Clearly this is not the normal approach taken at Sidwell Cycles
And now I am back in the office and weigh 195.8lbs.
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 191.4lbs and I have parked up my 'bike' ready to take her home for a Brooklands Green paint job.
I remember just how good the feeling was, although sadly I did not have my car with me at the time, so I had to carry it home.
It was a tuska and it was later stolen by a Gunner in E Bty RHA who took it to Nottingham and never returned.
I miss that guitar. I bought it in Nethergate in Dundee, one of the only two material purchases from my university years, the other being a Brando style leather jacket, which I still own.
I am utter exhausted from worrying about my baby and think that I need to sleep. I weigh 195.8lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 190.2lbs. I cannot bring myself to care at the moment, but I know I will regret it if I stop half way into the experiment and this was a pretty enormous poo.
I have to take the baby to Bristol again on Monday 'so we can have a look at her' and then again on Tuesday for an skin graft.
Getting to Bristol is a sod for me - Jim can't drive and is such a mess at the moment that she really needs me there for this, I have two other daughters that need looking after and take to school, I can't keep asking people to drive Jim about if they want to change dressings every two days (seriously, yesterday we had to go all the way to Bristol because they don't have the dressings with silver in them anywhere else this side of Gloucester - for my mother this meant driving 200miles with us, and another 60 miles just to get to us from her home).
There is (obviously) a limit to how much time Jim and I can take off work without it becoming an issue (Jim works from home, so her hours are very flexible, but at the moment all our time is taken up with this - which is fair enough - and being able to pop into the local hospital, a pretty major hospital and in the capital city of the second largest county in the UK, to get dressings changed would be nice) and I can't imagine I am alone in this. With this in mind I asked:
'There must be other people in a similar situation to me?' "Yes, we get this sort of thing every day, it is a real problem for a lot of people." 'What do people usually do then?' "Struggle".
Why have the pre-op consultation the day before when you know that most of your patients are having this sort of problem? Why in the name of all that is holy do these specialist burns dressings (at least one or two) not exist in Exeter?
Jim left the RD&E hospital at 1230hrs yesterday and got to Bristol Frenchay at 1735hrs - if you can't drive it's not just an inconvenience, it's a nightmare.
'Can you pop in so the consultant can take another look?'
No, I can't 'pop in', I can spend £100 travelling and let down work (who are very good about this sort of this) and the days of two other people to collect one child and look after the other and do it, and of course I will, because it's my baby we are talking about, but 'popping in' isn't an option when I'm a hundred miles away and the breast feeding mother cannot drive.
How about, next time, the consultant takes a proper look the first time?
/Manley bitching blog.
I just stirred my fish tank with a chopstick and Bruce is in heaven, he seems to think that the dirt from the stones in his tank are cocaine, by the looks of him.
I weigh 192.6lbs.
================= I am having a poo =================
On Friday the smallest member of Team Manley (at 5 months old) managed to grab a cup of fresh peppermint tea and pull it over onto her leg, resulting in some pretty horrendous burns.
I dealt with that at the time, spoke to the duty doctor and decided to monitor her, keep it clean and covered when it might rub and then Jim would take her to the doctors on Monday, whilst I was in Oxford for a meeting.
When I finished my meeting (which went very well, thank you for asking), I had an answer machine message. Jim had gone from doctor's 'phone calls to drop in centres, to the Royal Devon and Exeter Hospital and was now on her way to the plastic surgery team at Frenchay Hospital, in Bristol.
It looks like the less severe burn on the baby's foot is, after all, the more severe one and a mixture of plastic surgery and/or a wet-suit like pressure dressing, worn for 23 hours a day for, in answer to my question 'Weeks or months?' 'Maybe years'.
Needless to say I didn't really have time to defecate once I had got to Bristol and the man on the barrier who told me that I would be charged a further £127 for the train ticket I couldn't find to get out of the station probably spent much of the evening telling his wife, boyfriend or girlfriend all about the nasty man he met at work that day.
We've got the baby back at home now, but it looks like a few journeys up and down the motorway. If you are my sister or parent then thank you for looking after children and driving around the country for us yesterday.
Regardless, I woke up this morning weighing 192.5lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 189.7lbs and am so tired from worrying all day that I think I might just give up on daytime now.
To cheer things up a little, another leecher is stealing our images, so if you watch the background of This chap's YouTube page (NSFW) for 15 seconds the televisions will show you a nice picture of Goatse. If you do not know what Goatse is then PLEASE read up on it before you click, be sure that there are no children around and preferably be blind from birth. This is seriously NSFW so please don't blame me if you look at it. I have warned you and it is your own fault.
I also have a nice picture of the Dagnall's eye, much healed, but still fairly nasty:
I weigh 194.5lbs. I am quite excited by this. Should I do a 0.6lb poo then I'll have managed to go to 1939 from 1945, which is very much in keeping with the theme of the day. Should I manage a 2.7lber or a 3.1lber then I'll be taking the Great War into account as well.
I am shocked to recognise that I am tempted, as I sit pondering this upon my porcelain throne, to lie a little to pervert the results of this experiment, already six months old, just for this purpose.
================== I am having a poo ==================
I weigh 189.3lbs. The Matabele War or maybe the The Franco-Siamese War aside, 1893 was not a terribly important military occasion. As far as I know the Franco Siamese War was only really British in its mercenaries and, whilst the Matabele war was against the British, I can't really bring myself to include a company army, engaging in battle against peope who it would enslave to work in its mines, in the same class as the more recent conscription wars on mainland Europe.
Matabele warriors. These men would all die or end up in a mine
Anyway, I am off to church now to ring for remembrance. I never wear uniform or medals or ribbons, but I shall have medals in my pocket and a poppy on my chest. I have been discussing this a lot recently, I may comment further on things later on.
Yesterday I:
looked after the baby with the burns,
went to a children's birthday party,
Stayed in bed throughout the whole of a ballet class.
Did two poos, amounting to over 7lbs in weight.
Took delivery of a simply enormous sink (nearly 5' wide)
Built some rather splendid shelves out of floorboards.
Had amazing sex which was interrupted annoyingly.
Managed to recover from an annoying interruption.
was told that all my efforts are not good enough and I now have to go and clean up 'and you'd better bloody hoover as well!'.
That last one referred to work in the kitchen
watched "Cool Runnings" with the girls.
I can't explain why, but I never get weepy at films, I just don't, I am not a crying person really, but Cool Runnings always makes me cry.
Anyway, I have only cried twice as an adult, once when my first was born and once watching Cool Runnings some time ago.
Get near the end, just before the crash, and I'm blubbing like a baby.
The girls have never seen me cry, mostly because I haven't, and they are really quite taken aback. The big one is all quiet and the middle one keeps berating me for 'pretending to cry'.
Jim mercilessly ribbing me helps none in the situations, I find.
Jim has taken the eldest and the youngest to ballet, whilst I stay near the John.
I weigh 197.1lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 190.9lbslbs.
That was massive, but I am feeling a little dodgy and I want to be utterly voided before I go to a children's party in, damn! 10 minutes and I'm still in my dressing gown!
Here, I made a picture of Musslini being somewhat troubled by a bee:
The baby got some tea on her tights last night. You can make judgements about that later, but for now, the burns were about the size of an elongated 50p piece on her calf/shin and about the size of a 20p piece on her foot (and another as small as can be on her tiny 'big' toe).
I put her leg under a running tap and then in a sink full of cold water for about 7 or 8 minutes and then put a cold pack in a sock on the burn whilst she had some milk, as she was getting rather cold in the sink and I didn't want to have hypothermia on top of a burn.
She's got a blister on her foot and a blister which lifted all the skin off on her calf as soon as I removed her tights, but apart from this, her skin was just red and it doesn't look too bad.
After a feed I took her back to the bathroom, where the shower head appeared to be the most interesting thing, in the world, ever! and she sat with it spraying cold water on her leg for a further 15 minutes or so, as happy as could be.
After this I placed some cling film over the blisters to keep infection away and, after trying to get hold of my tame internet doctor, the real doctor finally called (in fairness, it only took about 20 minutes, which is pretty good on a Friday night for a non-emergency).
On his advice I cycled off to Boots and got some low-adhesive dressing and micropore taped it over the burns to keep infection out. It is only a shame that she is too young for anything more exciting than milk and baby rice, because she deserves a treat for being so brave.
This morning the leg looks very sore, but she doesn't seem to care tuppence about it and is in a better mood than usual for this time in the morning. She seems fine and I'm content to just look after her and keep an eye on it.
The two things I learned last night.
A Google search for [burn baby hot water] turns up a lot of lyrics by Adam Sandler, to say nothing of the whole Tina Turner thing
It's much harder to deal with a mother who is feeling guilt and distress than it is to deal with actual injuries
I did eventually get my cup of tea.
I weigh 194.7lbs
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 192.8lbs.
Ballet and then a Birthday Party today. I have to try and get some shelves up too, but we shall see about that.
================= I am having a poo =================
I weigh 192lbs
Neat, tidy and predictable.
The hot tap is so tight that I cannot turn it on and I am not a weak man.
It also still says 'Wee' on the wall above the urinal, 4 weeks after I first stuck the blue-tack up.
I have also been producing lobsters, which are rather better by virtue of [a] not being stuck to a non-stick wall, [b] Not being 4 weeks old and [c] Something else, I expect.
