“13 things you would do if you suddenly won the lottery” as suggested by the ever so clever and super strong Michelle.
This is a tricky one for me because I live such a perfect, charmed life that I want for nothing. Honestly.
- Pay off my mortgage.
- Get tutors for the kids and for me.
- Pay off my friends’ mortgages.
- Buy a huge house to live in with annexes for family members who are getting on a bit or just like to visit. It needs to have lots of land for the horses.
- Buy some horses.
- Leave a £1000 tip for the first person to give excellent service in their job.
- Buy a book shop.
- Quit working for other people.
- Buy Chinese food every night just to see how long it takes for The Hildy to get sick of it.
- Learn lots of different languages starting with French, German, Japanese and Italian.
- Travel the world. All of it.
- Fund an Atheist School where only Atheist’s are allowed to attend just so I can annoy the Catholic School down the road and get in the papers for being a git.
- Buy lots of houses and let homeless people live in them rent free.
I’ve had pet rats for many years on and off. They are the best pet that you could ever choose. Anyone who has shared their sofa with a rat can tell you this.
From left to right they are Oz and Spike. Both female rats who got very fat in their old age. Their favourite game was to play at being rat hats for the kids but only if the kids kept still.
Harry Rat before he went to the vets for the last time. It was a constant joke of the young Harry that he would only sleep inside a box of Felix cat food pouches. I think he liked the sense of danger and enjoyed tormenting Riz Cat. Curiously Riz Cat has always suffered from a sort of rat blindness that means that she cannot see or hear any rat in the house, not even when they throw wood shavings at her and point and laugh.
I don’t have a single picture of Harry’s brothers, Pete and Jack. This is a great shame because all three lads were the very picture of hairy handsomeness. Both were brown rats with large patches of white on their fur.
Jack Rat’s favourite food was dog biscuits. Pete preferred the fingers of my nephew.
I miss having rats as pets. As soon as I move into le château de grenouille I intend to get at least four little rat ladies to keep the house safe and comfy. Rat ladies tend to fight less than rat chaps and are also less prone to … how do I put this delicately … marking their territory. Although Rat ladies are prone to breast cancer which the chaps tend not to be although they can, of course, still develop it.
What should I call them though?
Facebook tells me I have 11 friends. How come I only ever see one of you lot regularly then. Eh? The rest of you never call, you never write. I only got a Christmas card from one of you and you’re from Americaland. It’s not even as if I live on the moon or anything, for most of you I’m only an hour down the road.
Enough of that!
Work continues to be a hotbed of scandal rife with miscarriages of justice….or at least the office gossips think it is. Personally I’ve grown bored with the whole “who’s making the beast with two backs with who”, “guess what so and so said about such and such” and “Wassername from marketing told thingy that she’d had bum sex with her new boyfriend.”. If you want to spread gossip please provide some juice behind it or at least make it interesting and about me.
In other news I’ve been trying to educate my eldest daughter, Snarly, in the topic of music. It goes something like this:
Me: Snarly, for the love of all that is good and righteous in this world listen to my music.
Me: *puts on a CD of The Sex Pistols*
Me: This is what would be considered “Good” music.
Me: Shush child! This is considerably better than that crummy Busted that you listen to.
Snarly: McFly dad.
Me: The point is that if all the members of a band dance then the music is rubbish.
Snarly: Can I do my homework now dad?
Me: This is more important than homework!
You see what I have to deal with at home. No wonder I’m a nervous wreck.
It seems that being the “IT guy” in a company of complete numpties actually grants me magical abilities to answer any question on any subject no matter how mundane.
For example I have successfully answered the following questions today:
- How do I know it the text I have copied has been copied?
- How does someone drown in a swimming pool?
- Is Scientology a religion or a cult?
- Where are the biscuits?
- How the hell has Jade Goody got pregnant again?
- The computer says it needs to shut down. What should I do?
- Was the Pope in the Hitler youth?
There are others but these stick in my mind.
Why not jump on the bandwagon and ask me a question? Go ahead. It’s the only reason I exist.
I have a project that absolutely must be completed by 1st June.
Anybody know anything about integrating web services with Lotus Domino using XML?
I’d just like to take a moment out of my busy day to say this:
The Hong Kong Tea Bar in Portsmouth serves the best noodles I have ever eaten.
That is all.
I seem to be getting a few spam comments.
I now face a monumental decision:
- Just delete it as I find it. This is what I’ve been doing but it does expose me to the terrible language that spammers typically use. I don’t mean expletives although these do make me blush. I mean the mangling of the English language that these vile fiends tend to employ.
- Ignore it in the hope that they will tire of my blog and depart to harass some other poor soul adrift in the sea of blogs. I don’t want to ignore it because spammers must be discouraged.
- Enforce the use of a wordpress’ special magic “You must be logged in to comment” magic shield of magic. This naturally excludes lots of lovely people who travel from all over the known universe just to comment on my blog. Seriously there are thousands of them out there waiting to leave a comment. All I need to do is write an entry worthy of their comments.
So, option 1, 2, 3 or a hitherto undisclosed option 4?
I’ve left my work shoes at one of the offices and need to get some more before Tuesday because we have clients visiting and they don’t seem to appreciate seeing me in my socks. I have therefore spend the last two hours *ahem, working from home remember* shopping for new shoes.
My method is very straightforward when it comes to shoe shopping. I march directly up to the counter, glare at the spotty twelve year old with the name badge and say in a loud and clear voice: “Please bring me all your size twelve shoes so that I may select an appropriate pair”. I have found that this method is better than selecting a pair of shoes and being told that they don’t have them in my size.
I have other criteria:
- I don’t want leather in my footwear;
- I don’t want heels, honestly I’m 6’4″ and don’t need to be any taller;
- I want laces and not slip on shoes, I’m all growed up now and I’ve been tying my own laces for over thirty years.
For some reason my search for new shoes has proven unsuccessful. I don’t understand it.
The Hildy tells me that some people actually enjoy shoe shopping.
I really don’t want heels.
Here I sit, resting comfortably in my armchair, a cup of tea at my side, feet up, laptop burning my knackers and I think of all you hard working bloggers out there.
Why am I working from home on this gloriously sunny day I hear you cry? The answer is simple. Snarly’s school has an occasional day (a day off for the teachers to sit about drinking gin and gossip or possibly to absorb the latest diktat from Central Government, who knows?) and The Hildy arranged for me to care for the sweet little child while she went to work. Unfortunately she forgot that she’d asked me (I blame her age) and took the day off herself. Silly sausage! So, she’s taken Snarly and her friend Lauren swimming while I knuckle down to some hard graft. Ha.
I may get dressed in an hour or so, I’m not sure.
Actually I think I’ll go out for a pub lunch as soon as I get dressed. I don’t want to strain myself now do I?
Anyway the question of the day on my other blog is: Should I go to Reading next Saturday or not? What do you think?
The forbidden topics of blogging are religion and politics.
I’m atheist, mildly to screaming left wing and completely disillusioned with the main political parties. I shall be voting Green today. Mainly because change should start on a local level, from the bottom up, in order to be embraced by people and the Greens look at local issues rather than power. Local issues like transport, energy, fair working conditions, education and food.
Plus the candidate lives round the corner from me and he’s very sincere about his views.
He won’t win though. The Tory candidate will win. He always does by a massive amount but that’s not the point. The point of voting is to be heard, to make my opinion count among the sea of other opinions. If you don’t vote then you can’t be heard and you’ve no right to complain if your representative does something that you don’t like. Even spoiling your paper is a better option than ignoring the vote.
Anyway, I’m voting today. What about you?