There now follows.. a brief pause

Well hello my lovely reader friends,

Settle down at the back now. I know its been a while since you've last had to come this way. And it's getting close to Christmas (it's alright we can use the word now it's December) so you're all no doubt very busy 

but...

I hope there are a lot of you (okay, a few of you. The odd one or two anyway. What do you mean nobody. hmmph) out there in the wilds of cyberspace wondering where I have been.

And the answer is that I'm on the move. It's one of those work based thing you know. The big bosses have had the idea to close the lab where I was working and give everyone the opportunity to move to the sister lab up in Glasgow. And I have taken that opportunity. Now for the past couple of weeks I've been travelling up and down the M6 and M74 (don't you just love the way the same stretch of road has a different name once it crosses the border), but now the time has come my little friends to move up there permanently.

So there will be a brief recess while I sort out my internet and get everything just the way I want it in my new flat.

I know you'll miss me in the short term but, fear not my reader friends, I shall return bigger and better than ever with new adventures in Paisley (where I'll be living) and the Glasgow area.

The more astute among you will notice that I've also changed the look of this blog after a few suggestions were made. It's now a bit brighter and hopefully easier on the eye. So what do you think?

Ta ta for now

4th entry into Room 101

Well hello my little reader friends,

And how is everyone? I do hope you're all well. And still here waiting for my pearls of wisdom.

So anyway, this is another entry into room 101. Something that I saw on holiday a couple of weeks ago in Lanzarote but will infect any part of the world given half a chance. Something so hideously evil that in casting it screaming into the void would not only make my life better but would improve the cultural experience of everyone the world over.

They are known as:

Elvis impersonators.

Now don't get me wrong here. I like Elvis. I think he was a great singer with an incredible voice and an enduring legacy. You don't get to be known as The King Of Rock'n'Roll without doing something right now do you? And I don't suppose there will be any Justin Bieber impersonators anytime in the near future. Or the far future with any luck.

(As an aside, has anyone else had that experience when the older they get the futher back in time their taste in music is getting. I fully expect to be decrying Mozart as being too modern when I come to retire.)

So, anyway, Elvis = good. A true icon in modern culture.

But...

That does not mean that middle aged men around the world should stick on a wig, a pair of dark glasses, an Elvis fancy dress outfit and then inflict a truly abysmal rendition of his songs on an unsuspecting public. Now some of them may well be able to sing. And some may well even look a little like the man himself. But, really?

It started out so well too, my dear readers, so it did. One lunch time we went to have lunch in a bar near the villa we were staying at having had lunch there a few days previously and finding it to be very nice. There was a small poster on the wall advertising this night and the owners of the bar said that the guy was very good (ok they would say that I know). So we (the family this time, not a load of single people) decided to give it a look. The general consensus seemed to be that 'he can't be that bad'. *sigh*

So the evening arrived and taking our seats we prepared for the show. What came next... well... You know that episode of Only Fools and Horses where Trigger's mate is the nightclub singer? Well it was like that...only without the genius comedy writing and the speech impediment. To be fair, I think my evening was slightly coloured by the image mentioned. So much so I started looking round the room for a Del-boy lookalike.

And the guy didn't even stick to doing Elvis numbers! No, part way through he did a song by The Mavericks. WHY?!

So, to end this drivel, I could probably say that if you have never seen an Elvis impersonator then you should be thankful. If you have then you know what I mean. The world would be a better place without them so we can remember the king as he should be remembered.

Casablanca and the diet coke conundrum

Hello my little readers,

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.

Well last night (Thursday for those not paying attention) I went to the cinema. Well sort of cinema. It was an open air showing of the greatest ever film ever made. Ever.

Casablanca.

Now some may scoff and say that other films may lay claim to the title of 'Best Film' and to them I say this: Feel free to argue and debate my claim for through this medium of learned discourse souls grow even more.

You are, however, wrong.

Because it is the best film ever. So there. You cannot touch the performances of Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman and Paul Henreid. And, of course, 'As Time Goes By'...
Basically, if Hollywood ever plans a remake, I'm nuking the place.

Anyway, in the rather lovely setting of the roman gardens in Chester a group had set up a projection screen and over the past couple of weeks had been showing a range of films ranging from the recent 'Avengers Assemble' through the already mentioned 'Casablanca'.  It must have been quite a sight as well giving there must have been about a hundred people all sat on camping chairs of some description (well I was anyway. If you're interested, it cost me six quid from Argos. If you're not interested, er, well it still cost me six quid from Argos) sitting watching this film whilest wearing wearing wireless headphones.

Now before I got there, I had to get some petrol. And as I was filling up I decided to get a drink and some nibbles. So, once inside the shop, I picked up a bottle of diet coke. Now for those that don't know for sometime there has been some sort of marketing campaign on the bottles where names are printed on the label underneath the words 'share a diet coke with ....' It wasn't until I got to the gardens that I bothered to look to see if there was a name on the bottle I had purchased. As it turns out there was.

It was Danielle.

Which presented me with a moral problem.

Knowing the name should I have then gone round all the women in that audience to see if any of them went by that said name. And if so, would they like to share a bottle of diet coke? Would I then risk the unwanted and potentially violent attention of any partners they might have been with that evening? If no Danielle was present do I then broaden my horizons, abandon the showing of Casablanca and go into the Chester night in search of this mysterious lady?

So there, my dear readers, was the problem. In the end I came up with own answer.

I thought 'sod it, she can get her own' and settled down in my seat.

ta ta for now.

The Play's The Thi- Oh bugger

Well hello my lovely little readers,

Now I'm sure if you read last week's musings (and if you didn't, where the hell were you?) that you would be waiting patiently me for to regale you with tales of theatrical success.

But it didn't happen.

This time.

The course of events went something like this:
Thursday lunch time I received a message on fb saying that one of the actors now was unable to make the Saturday. As we only had three in the first place this was a tiny little problem. Becky, who did a wonderful job organising everything, was trying to work around it and so would I be prepared to try my hand at acting one of the pieces. As I stared at the message on the computer screen two things went through my mind:
1: Oh shit! You have got to be f***ing kidding me. I can't act to save my life.

followed, a couple of minutes later, by:

2: Yeah, alright, go on then.

So then I was sent the script. It was a short monologue on one side of A4 sized paper. Though, given that I had two days to learn it, a couple of lines on a postcard would have been a challenge. I think at that point my thoughts were that 'Well, it might not be right good (my acting that is) but I'll give it a go.' Probably should point out that my thoughts rarely come with brackets but you get the point.

So that afternoon and early evening I sat about (work permitting) trying to learn this piece. And I started to get somewhere with it.

Then I went to play badminton which is a weekly bit of exercise.

Came back to another message. This time saying the two other actors didn't feel they could do the event justice with just the two of them having had a bit of rehearsal time so Becky had taken the difficult decision to postpone it for now.

So that is where we are now. It will be re-arranged for another time in the future. Wouldn't mind but not only had I managed to learn about half of the piece at that point but I was also practising saying 'Do you know who I am?' which I gather is a phrase all famous people have to use (because obviously this is just the start of my rise to stardom and my inevitable appointment as the new Doctor after Peter Capaldi.)

Naturally everyone is disappointed that we had to cancel at such a late hour but, my dear readers, we shall overcome and we shall prevail.

Watch this space.

Ta ta for now

Prisoner 1174 - a piece of flash fiction

Hello  my little reader friends,

Well, as you know, occasionally I like to put a little story on here to entertain you all even more than I normally do. I  know, I know, I really spoil you don't I?!

Well today I'm going to do it again. Now the thing is, its a piece of flash fiction. And more importantly the time time table for its construction went something like this:

6:30pm Friday (yesterday): Get random word from random word generator web-page thingy. The word was 'crown'.

8:30pm Friday (yesterday): Post finished story on fb critique group page.

Yes, my dear reader, what you are about to read took me all of two hours to write. It has not been altered, changed or edited since I put it on fb last night. So its rough.

Actually that gives me an idea... Maybe I should put the various drafts (if I ever do any)  of this piece on here.... hmmm.

Anyway here it is. You can comment if you like. You don't have to though

-----
Prisoner 1174’s eyes opened. He must have dozed off for a moment he realised. He tried to move his head forward before remembering the metal restraint around his neck. He wondered how long he had slept for. He was surprised that he slept at all; the space was hardly built for comfort. But then, why would it be? On a prison transport, he was being transferred to the penal colony on his world’s largest moon where he would spend the rest of his life digging in the mines for the rare ore that kept his planet’s defensive systems working. And how they needed it. The war had been going on for ten years with both sides’ resources being heavily depleted. A truce had been announced some eighteen months earlier when both sides had finally realised that a total victory would not be worth the cost it would take to achieve. Since then, a heightened cold war had been in place between the two neighbouring planets with each watching the other with eagle eyed sharpness. Just waiting for the other to blink first. To make the first aggressive act. To be the first to push the button and annihilate both civilisations.
He remembered the details of how he had been caught and he winced as he remembered the beating that caused him to eventually confess. He’d been set up by his brother in a petty act of spite and it had been made to look like he had killed his sister in law. Evidence had been planted his bedroom, reports fabricated with officials being paid off or made to ‘disappear’. All quick and easy. His head bowed as the fatigue caught up with him. Guess he hadn’t been asleep for too long after all. But then, when had he last slept properly? Two, three days? He remembered that time. Warm and comfortable in his own bed. Would he see that bed again?
The sound of boots on the metal floor alerted his to the presence of the guards. The clang of walkway as the heavy footed officer stomped his way down through the middle of the room. The walkway was raised so the guards could see all the prisoners. And give them a swift kick to the head if any got too mouthy.
“So scum, you’ll be pleased to hear we are about half way there”, the guard called out, his voice cold with malice. “Then you can be off this ship and be working for the good of the new king.”
“Fuck the king.” Said a voice in the crowd. Prisoner 1174 allowed himself the briefest of grins. The guard moved towards the prisoner who had spoken.
“Oh dear, oh dear, do we have a dissident in our ranks?” He asked. Another guard tutted and shook his head, a broad smile appearing on his face. “You should know the rules on this ship,” he continued, “you can only speak when you are permitted to do so. And then, insulting our new king is also strictly prohibited. I’m afraid the punishment is very clear”
The guard produced a small thin black rod from a compartment in the nearby wall. Pressing a button the rod extended to fifty centimetres in length. Another button was pressed and the tip began to glow a bright red. Prisoner 1174 closed his eyes as the red tip was pressed against the second mans chest, the smell of burnt flesh filling the air, the screams filling his mind. Eventually the cries were reduced to slight and muffle sob and the guard replaced the correction device back in the wall unit.
“Now”, the guard continued, “Let that be a lesson to you all. Shortly you will be briefed on what will happen when we arrive at the penal colony. But now, you’ll be pleased to hear, the king is about to make a live broadcast to his people. Rumour has it that it will be a rather special announcement.”
The lights dimmed as a view screen slid silently from the ceiling behind the guard and the smiling face of the world’s ruler appeared. Prisoner 1174 clenched his fist. The rest of the room knew him as the king. Prisoner 1174 knew him as his brother.

The play's the thing

Well hello my lovely reader friends, and welcome to my little part of the insanity that is known as the 'interweb thingy'.

*looks off camera*
What?
*another look off camera*
Sorry, the internet.

So what's been happening I hear you cry. Well, like it or not, I'm going to tell you.

Since I last imparted my little jewels of wisdom down to you I've been to see a couple of plays at the Grosvenor Park Open Air Theatre in Chester. Each time on a Saturday evening. I know, my little reader friends, not the forefront of what is hot as you would normally expect from me (being as I am, down wiv da kidz). But highly enjoyable none the less.

For the record, and in case anyone out there cares, they were 'Cyrano De Bergerac' and 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'.

Now, both were brilliant, but, if I had to choose one of the two, I would have to say that I preferred Cyrano. I don't know why. Guess it's just one of those things when one play has more of an impact than another. But both times I was sat there, in the covered terraces section (a choice that would prove to be a smart move during Midsummer when it was absolutely chucking it down durng the second half), watching the marvellous acting and wonderful script that was in front of me. I plan to do more in the coming years so long may the Grosvenor Park Open Air Theatre continue. Beats being inside watching tele all night or down in some loud, hot and sweaty night club in my opinion anyway. Which is probably why I ended up going on my own.

But the big news is that next week it's my turn to have their words spoken by actors.

Because I, along with four other writers are having their micro plays performed in a little room in a little building in Chester. Its a small start. But an exciting one and I'm glad to be a part of it. And who knows, as I think I've said before, from small acorns....

Ta ta for now.

Sun tan - check, photos - check, happy memories - check.. Bugger, I'm back (Part 2)

Well hello again my dear readers,

So, now, where were we?

Ah yes, thats right, the first night. As you read last time, the Manchester flight got to Zante earlier than either the Bristol or Gatwick flights.

Right for this one I'm going to break the holiday down into a few categories. Mainly so this thing doesn't go forever and bore the arse of everyone. So lets start with:

The People

The group consisted of fifteen people in total. As I said, five were on the Manchester flight and I had a bit of a chat with them going from the airport to the hotel. That left ten who joined us throughout the evening. And I can say that they were all wonderful splendid people to be in holiday with.

Bar one.

Yes, there is always one isn't there dear reader.

The thing is, when you're on a solos holiday then you ain't going to know anything about the others in the group. And it is up to you to go and find out. You're in the same boat as everyone else and, unless you want to be back in your room by about ten in the evening you going to have to make a bit of an effort. There are even, if you think about it, a series of questions to get you started.

What's your name?
Where are you from?
What do you do?
Are you here for one week or two?
Have you been on a solo's holiday before? Which ones?

Get through that little lot and generally, as if by magic, you get to know the people. So thats how we all started out.

Bar one....

who made no effort what so ever. I don't know why, my little reader friends. Maybe he had something better to do. Not that the rest of us minded. We all just got on with it. His loss, not ours.

Food and Drink

The food in the hotel was basic. Like the rest of the hotel really. To be fair to them, there isn't alot they can really do about it though. It can't be easy coming up with a range of dishes that will be ok for multiple nationalities staying in their rooms that week. But what they had was ok. There was always the option of going to one of the nearby restaurants anyway. Which we did a couple of times during the week. The food at which was rather lovely. Though remind me not to have the garlic prawns. Well not without a bib or something first.

The drinks were great though. A pint of Mythos (really nice greek lager) was a very reasonable 2.50 euros. For some reason best known to the greeks a half pint was 2.30 euros. No, I don't know why either. Could possibly explain why the greek economy is knackered though. Either way, I might have drank a fair bit of it during the course of the week.

Also, at the pub which kind of became the group 'local', on a couple of nights shots were produced. Now, normally I don't like these things, but this one was different. Buggered if I can remember what it was called or what was in it but suffice to say, my dear readers, it was a bit good.

The hotel

As I have just said the hotel rooms were basic. But what else do you need? The bathroom was clean and the shower worked. The bed was comfortable and I had a great view. I've no idea if the tele in the room even worked let alone what channels it had on. But then who goes on holiday to a beautiful greek island and stays in the room and with the tv on.

The staff were polite and friendly even letting us take over the bar music system if we were the only ones in.

One rather curious thing was all the weddings that took place there. Now, my dear reader, I'm very much a stranger when it comes to getting married but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't want to get hitched when there are a load of people sunbathing on the beach next to you. Still, it provide a moment of amusement when one day, with a fair few of the group down on the beach, a horse and cart came trotting over the sand and passed right by us with the bride and groom who, rather than enjoying their happy moment, were hanging on for dear life in the posh seats in the rather elegant cart and looking very uncomfortable.

----


So there you have it. I could go a bit more but to go into too much detail would be to take away some of the magic of what was a wonderful week.

But wait, I hear you cry....

Col, what we really want to know is....

Did you find your 'impossible' girl with whom you were going to go more exciting adventures through time and space?

Well, my dear reader friends, the answer to that is no.

I don't think.

But you never know. We have said that we'll keep in touch so maybe fate is taking a rather scenic route with me.

ta ta for now

Sun tan - check, photos - check, happy memories - check.. Bugger, I'm back (Part 1)

Well hello my dear readers,

Did you miss me while I was away? You can tell me. I know you did really.

So where will I start in recounting this tale of dashing heroes, beautiful heroines, dastardly villians, romance, treachery and noble sacrifice in the face of true evil?

Oh hang on...

No, sorry, thats a story. I'll telling you about my holiday aren't I?

So we will begin, as is traditional, at the beginning.

And Manchester Airport at around four in the morning. Which I'm sure you'll agree, dear reader, is far too early to be doing anything other than sleeping let alone getting through the check in desk at terminal two. There was already a queue which I joined the back of. It was then I spied something to chill the heart of many a traveller on a cold, dark, wet winters night. A group of lads with the words 'Zante 13' emblazened on the front of their t-shirts and various nicknames on the back. Now, my dear reader, I'm a quiet, sensitive soul (SHUT IT!) so my first reaction was, I'm sure you'll agree, quite understandable.
 It was:
"Oh shit, I hope they don't end up sitting anywhere near me."

So, anyway, the queue made its merry way forward and whilest there, I tried a little furtive scanning of the crowd to try and see if there were any more single people around. I couldn't see any but as it turns out there were four more people flying from Manchester. So on the queue went with me minding my own business, stoically ignoring the mocking call of the airline rep and her cruel taunts of the availability of extra leg room seats which were now being offered at two for the price of one. It's getting to something when even the airline is taking the piss out of your single status.

Eventually I managed to get through check in, security (with no hassles), and was in the departure area where it was time for breakfast.

*memo to Burger King*
Yes, I know what the sign said but, when you need an electron microscope to see them, don't you think you're taking the 'mini-pancake' thing a tad far?

And then it came time to board and be on our way.

Or so we all thought.

After an almost completely unintelligible message over the plane's intercom, we sat there for about forty five minutes. And it was during this time that one of the 'Zante 13' massive decided to fall ill. Yes dear reader, damned inconsiderate of him I know. Eventually he was removed from the aircraft, his luggage (as well as that of one of his friends who volunteered to stay with him) soon followed and after a two hour delay we were away for what, after that slight excitement, turned out to be a very uneventful flight.

Three and a bit hours later we landed safely on the tarmac at the airport to the island of Zante. Or Zakynthos depending on what you call it. Once the plane had taxied to its final position we all disembarked into what we thought would be blazing hot sun.

Except we didn't. I mean we all got off the plane. And it was hot. But, thanks to a nice breeze, it wasn't stop you in your tracks hot like some holidays I have been on. At this point I didn't even take my cardigan off. Yes, dear readers, I was wearing a cardigan. Well down wiv da kidz me I'll tell you. We then got on the little bus that takes you from the plane to the arrivals area. A journey which, in this case, took all of a minute.

Then, my dear reader, came a moment which you may decide is pure fantasy, but which I can assure you was 100% true. I quickly made my way through passport check and headed towards baggage...

To find...

My case was already on the carousel waiting to be picked up. Seriously, my dear reader, as I walked up to the carousel I saw it making its way towards me. Now how cool is that?! So without futher ado, I grabbed the case and headed for the exit and started looking for the pick up. Which again I did almost straight away. I was, I think, second to make it though. The others swiftly followed me and we were led onto the minibus which was to take us to the hotel. The five of us then introduced ourselves and started chatting away during the twenty or so minutes the journey took. At which point I began to think that, as these four all seemed to be rather nice people, this was going to be a rather good week.

We were then at the hotel where I was re-aquainted with the rep (by the name of Andy) who I had originally met in Rhodes. Then we got our room keys, shown to our rooms by Andy (four of the rooms, including mine, were next to each other) and left to unpack. This done, I took off my cardigan, put on some shorts, some sun block and headed out to explore the bar and beach area. I had only just reached the bar when I bumped into Andy again so we sat and had a beer whilst having a nice catch up chat.

A quick walk round the beach area where I had another nice chat to the two lovely ladies in the Manchester part of the crew, Vicki and Amanda, and then back to the hotel room for a wee kip. Then came another important step in the weeks holiday. Something everyone goes through at some point. Seeing if the shower worked (which it thankfully did). After that it was then time for dinner...

Coming up in part 2:
What happened when the Bristol and Gatwick people arrived.
The local pubs and bars

And, the question you all want to know (well if you've read the previous entry)

Did I find my 'impossible girl'?

Tune in next time to find out

Ta ta for now

Passport - check, books - check, sunscreen - check. I'm ready

Hello my lovely readers,

Where does the time go eh? Where? It has been too long since I last posted and I know you've been missing me, but worry no longer, because I'M BACK!

*cue wild cheers from the audience*

Thank you, thank you, alright settle down. Especially you lot at the back.

Right, I hear you cry, so what is this one going to be about then?

Well I'm going on holiday tomorrow. Yay!
Yes, my dear reader, I shall be once again jetting off to foreign climes for a week of sun, sea, sand and relaxation. In Zante. It will be tough, so very tough, but I'll will give  'enjoying myself even if I won't have the slightest idea who I'll be holidaying with' my best shot.

Yes, you read that last bit right. I don't know who will be accompanying me on this week.

*hushed mummuring from the crowd*

Because it's a Solos holiday and what basically happens is that a load of single people go on holiday and hope to hell there is at least one other person in the group they can talk to. I mean there is a forum you can use to see who is going, but it's not the same thing is it?

Plus this isn't the first time I've been on a Solos trip. Oh no, my dear reader, this will be my sixth vacation with them. So far there have been no problems so I should be fine. I've got my kindle (and a couple of books in case something happens to said kindle), ipod and there are plenty of bars. But, as everyone will be there to have a good time, I'm sure it will be great.

Now I know what you're thinking: Holiday romances.
Well, we'll see. I've seen them happen. I've got friendly with a couple of ladies in the past (keep it clean, you lot at the back)
Will this be the year? Will there be a lady on the Manchester flight that is destined to be mine? (I'm hoping for the Manchester flight because, lets face it, the London flight makes things more complicated). Will I meet my 'impossible' girl who will want to come and have adventures through time and space with me? (You can make up your own jokes about sonic screwdrivers, this is a family show).

Or will they hear the words "I like Doctor Who" and run like hell?

Nobody knows. Not even me. Well alright, The Doctor might know but I haven't seen the TARDIS round these here parts so I guess he ain't telling.

So for now, I'll just have to go to Manchester airport in the small hours of Sunday morning, get through security and see what happens.

So, I'll leave you now. Lets face it, this packing ain't going to do itself. But I shall return, my dear reader, yes I shall return with the second part of this blog and tell you all about it.

Ta ta for now.

Giving Chester a boost (hopefully!)

Well hello my lovely little readers.

Yes I'm back to bring you more joy and happiness from within the black and souless void that is the internet.

So what's been happening I hear you cry.

I'm helping to bring a bit of culture to the streets of Chester. Well when I say I'm helping I mean got volunteered to help. And when I say I'm helping I mean I'm writing micro-plays.

Yes, in the next couple of weeks I shall be straining every creative sinew to create some pieces that will be performed in a bar somewhere in Chester. And not just one either. No no no... that would be too easy. No, my friend, I'm doing a two or three of these buggers. Now I've got ideas. Slowly forming in my mind.

But why am I doing this?

Chester needs a cultural boost. A bit of a shot in the arm. To let it know that someone still wants these things to happen.

It will be small. It will be low-key. But who knows where it will go from here. After all, from small acorns grow great oaks.

We can but try.

ta ta for now

Is it November yet?

Well hello my lovely readers.

Guess you've been wondering where I have been. I mean, doesn't time fly when you're having fun?

Well no not really. But it has been a couple of weeks so what have I been doing?

In short, my dear reader, I've been doing sod all except the usual routine mundane things in life like working, sleeping, eating, trying to talk to girls etc etc etc.

And of course one of those routine things is watching the odd tv show. Do you often wonder how much of an impact the television has on our lives. I mean, I don't watch much and I'm very selective about the type of shows that I do follow. I rarely watch ITV on a Saturday night for example. Its just not my cup of tea.

As you may know though, a show that is very much my cup of tea is Doctor Who and the season finale was on last night. So at seven pm I was there as the latest adventure of the time travelling madman in the blue box began to unfold. The last adventure before November. Which for those that don't know is a very special occasion as it's the 50th anniversary of when the show first started. And, to be honest dear reader, I sat down last night with a small amount of trepidation.

But why I hear you ask.

Well this run of 8 episodes which have made this second half of series 7 of new Doctor Who (its been spilt into two halves you see. The first half ended the departure of Amy Pond *sniff*) has had something missing. It has not been firing on all cylinders. The writing hasn't quite been as top notch as it was before Christmas. I didn't quite believe the relationship between The Doctor and Clara as much as that of The Doctor and Amy (and Rory).

And last nights episode secrets were to be revealed. Important secrets.  It was going to be a big episode. It had to be done right.

And it was.

It was absolutely, incredibly, jaw droppingly excellent. I'm not going to give anything away (spoilers!) but it paid off the mystery of Clara (the impossible girl) brilliantly and set up something that left me and every other Doctor Who fan wishing it was November NOW.

But we'll just have to wait patiently as the wheel of time turns slowly onward and the future becomes the present and then becomes the past.

But...

Is it November yet?

Ta ta for now.

3rd entry in Room 101

Well hello my dear readers.

And welcome back to my little corner of the universe. You have come back right? Right?

Hello, Hello?!
Oh there you are. Good. Thought you had wandered off for a minute.

So, I here you ask, what is next to be put into room 101 and oblivion? What is going to join the first two entries? What ranks alongside text speak and Valentine's day as being so awful that it deserves to be obliterated from the face of this earth?

Well it's this:

Action Figures

Now don't get me wrong. I like the show Doctor Who as you well know. I like a lot of science fiction shows. But the action figures...WHY?

Now you may of heard of a shop called Forbidden Planet. And if you have ever been to the Manchester outlet you will have seen that the place is wall to wall full of these plastic abominations. I mean, seriously, what are you supposed to do with them?
And not just Doctor Who either. No sir. We're talking Star Trek, Star Wars, Stargate and probably a few other things with the word 'Star' in the title. I mean, am I supposed to display in my bedroom or something. Is it a way of saying 'yes i love this show and, to demonstrate my love for the show, I'm going to have a shelf full of six inch long pieces of plastic crap that may or may not look like the character they are supposed to represent'? And I'm not saying that all the various mechandise is crap. I mean, ok, most of it is but there are exceptions. The books are reasonable. They tend to be what I call 'candy floss books' in that you can read them but don't read too many of they will rot your mind.I like the audio cds for the shows (especially the Big Finish Doctor Who releases).

But the figures...

I just don't get it.

So they are going in to Room 101!
(Hey, its my blog, so my rules)

Secrets - A flash fiction piece

Well hello to you my lovely readers.

And here we are again. I was going to say on a wonderfully sunny Sunday afternoon. Except it started raining a little time ago so it's now a wet Sunday afternoon. Still, you can't have everything

So I guess you've logged on to see what utter drivel I've come up with this time haven't you. Well, you won't be disappointed.

Right then. Most Friday's I, along with a couple of writer friends, go to  a random word generator website. The word we are each then given forms the basis of a story we then go away and write if we get inspired or, in reality, have the time to do. This Friday the word I got was:

Fountain.

As you will see what came out has very little to do with a fountain. Although it does in a way I suppose. I use these exercises as a way of experimenting with different styles and ways of writing. Some work, some don't. I did consider adding a last line but after reading this through thought better of it. I think the ending works as it is.

Ta ta for now

***

Secrets

An old man sits beneath an oak tree, the breeze gently cooling his face in the hot sun. He watches the people who have come from miles around just to view the statue of the princess. They come from the various kingdoms of the land and from far across the seas just for one glimpse of the fragile perfection. Some will stare for hours at the delicate carvings debating the pose and expression on her face. She is wistful they would say. She is dreaming some say, others that she is sad. Some just want to see and admire the exquisite workmanship, the subtle lines and curves of her face and hair cascading over her shoulders. Some even throw coins into the ice cool, clear waters of the surrounding fountain. Such a treasure, they say, could only have been sculpted from true love. Hence it must bring good fortune and luck to those that make a wish to it.  Standing in the immaculate rose gardens in the old king’s palace, it stands as a tribute. Though the king is no longer there, the palace is kept in all its splendour for the visitors who visit daily to marvel at the wealth and magnificent opulence. But it is the statue and the fountain surrounding it that they will remember when they leave. Built from a solid block of marble the sculptor had spent ten years of his life working on the piece, carefully chipping away at the stone with the most delicate of touches. He could not be rushed, harried, forced or coerced into working faster. Sometimes he would not touch it for days, weeks even months at a time. My hands cannot achieve perfection at this time so I cannot work he would say, his tears glistening like diamonds in the sunlight as he gazed upon his slowly forming masterpiece.

Now it stands in the garden and only the old man knows her thoughts, for they are his thoughts as well. A true love they say, and he smiles a sad smile, for he knows they are right. It was a true and perfect love. But it was also a love that could not be. A love between royalty and a commoner. A love between a princess and a sculptor.

You'll Never Walk Alone

Hello my dear reader friends,

You may be wondering what this blog will be about. Well, it's a serious one.

24 years today, 96 Liverpool fans went off to the FA Cup semi final between their team and Nottingham Forest and did not return home. They will not be forgotten.
Some of you who know me will know that I don't support either of those teams. In fact, I support Liverpool's neighbours and biggest rivals Everton.

Now:

There is the rivalry between the two sides.
They want us to lose every game and we want them to lose every game

There is banter between the two sides.  There are the jokes about one team said by the other and vice versa.

The following is a text conversation from I had on Saturday with a Liverpool supporting fan. Everton had beaten relegation candidates QPR 2-0 while Liverpool had drawn 0-0 with another relegation threatened tean, Reading.

Helen: You've been restrained with any abuse over the football

Me: Would have been like shooting fish in a barrel! 5 points and a game in hand ;)

Helen: I retract my previous statement haha. U wait, Liverpool will have an amazing finish, Everton will eat our dust.

Me: I'm sure seventh will seem like a great finish. It wouldn't be that good if you were Everton mnd you. Higher standards you see. :)

I'm sure similar conversations were had between Everton and Liverpool fans all that evening. Actually ours is probably rather restrained

But here's the thing:

When things like this happen to either Everton or Liverpool, the two sides unite. When one gets knocked down, the other picks them up, dusts them down and will say "right, you've got both of us to deal with now".
The recent Hillsborough charity single sums it all up with the title : 'He ain't heavy, he's my brother'. (The idea for which came from the song being played at Everton's ground when a report on the disaster was released which exonerated the fans.)
I was on holiday in Tunisia a few years ago. It was a Solo's holiday so there were single people from all over the country. One evening we were all having dinner and another chap and I were happily chatting away and getting to know each other and we got talking about football. I found out he supported Tottenham and he was told about me following Everton. He then asked me about the Everton-Liverpool thing and whether I had any friends who were reds. He seemed genuinely surprised that I had good friends who were reds. He told me that he didn't think he would have any mates who were followers of their rivals Arsenal. Their's is a bitter rivalry and while I  said the Everton-Liverpool rivalry could get pretty cutting at times, it was easily the 'friendliest' bitter rivalry in football that I knew of. Maybe things are different down in London, I don't know.

I don't know what this means, and my words are probably very poor, other than that when it gets tough then the two sets of fans become one.
But from this one blue to all and any reds reading this, let me just say:

You'll never walk alone.

Like Ships That Pass In The Night - Part 7 (The final episode)

Well hello to you my rather excellent readers,

I hope you are all well. More to the point I hope you are still here and haven't gone off with some other floozy of a blog. They're not as good as this one. Really they're not. Can any of the others say it was lovingly created form these very fingers. Scrutinised in order to bring you this level of perfection. Don't just throw this stuff together in about fiver minutes you know. Oh no. Not at all. No.

Now, my dear reader, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. Not this blog I hasten to add. Hell no, you're not getting rid of me that easily no matter how much you want to. Don't think I didn't see through that name change or change of address.

No, I'm talking about what you are about to read next. The final episode of the flash fiction series 'Like Ships That Pass In The Night'. Yes, it really is here. It's the end.

But why, I hear you cry.

Well reader, it's time had come. And to be fair there was only so long this type of work can go on before you'll be screaming 'enough! Just get them together or have him die under a train for God's sake'. (Hollywood, please take note).

So here it is. I had the ending in my head for quite some time and this seemed to be the best point to end it. In fact I knew I didn't want to drag it too long right from the start when I decided to turn it into a series. Leave them wanting more as they say. So I hope I leave Anthony and Charlotte with an ending but also with you wanting more. If that makes sense. Which it probably doesn't. So, now you get to read it.

Enjoy. And let me know what you think of it.

Ta ta for now.
----

Like Ships That Pass In The Night.

Part 7

“Moments”

Anthony stands alone in the centre of the station concourse. He has a good half hour before the train he needs to catch arrives at the station. The morning is a bright sunny one now that spring is in full bloom. He has put away his long heavy winter coat and is now wearing a dark blue jacket. People pass him by, either not noticing the lone man standing there or, at the most acknowledging him with a brief nod before they continue on their way.

***

Charlotte crosses the road. The sun warms her face as she steps from the shade into the light and she can feel the temperature difference immediately. Passing a few shop keepers opening for the day she greets them with a quiet, but cheerful ‘Good Morning’ as she makes her along the street. An elderly man, bringing out flowers to display outside the front of his florist shop offers her a rose. Cheerfully he places it carefully in a button hole on her light brown coat as she smiles and thanks him. She turns a corner and looks down the slight slope the few hundred yards towards the station in the distance.

            ***

Anthony watches the displays of arrivals and departures as the place names slowly change with each train that comes and goes from the station. He briefly begins to wonder if this is mistake. If he is wrong is to do what he wants to do. He wonders if he should walk away and forget everything that has happened but then he thinks about Charlotte and he knows he wants to stay

***

Charlotte walks down the road, the entrance to the station getting ever closer. She feels herself becoming nervous, her heart beating that little bit faster. Pausing momentarily and looking towards the clear blue sky she considers turning around, heading back home and phoning in sick. No she decides. Putting one foot in front of the other, she continues on her way.

***

Anthony eye’s are now on the entrance to the station. In ten minutes his train will arrive and his chance will have gone. He looks down at his shoes before returning his gaze towards the archway. Then she appears and he watches as she goes to the ticket machine. His heart is in his mouth as she collects her tickets. She looks around but sees no one at first. Until…

***

For both of them it’s almost as if time then stands still. Anthony can feel his heart beating hard: Charlotte can hear hers. Slowly they make their way towards each other. They stand silently, neither knowing what to say but neither wanting to spoil the moment. He holds out his hand. She sees he is holding out a cup

“I thought you would like a coffee. It’s a skinny latte,” He says quietly

“Thank you. Very thoughtful” she replies.

She smiles the shy smile that he saw the first time. The smile he will see every day from that moment on.

Feelings of Inadequacy (part of me)

Well hello my reader friends and welcome back to my little witterings.

So how have you been?
See I only ask that because it's a nice lead in to what I'm going to say. But I hope you're all doing great.

Because the truth be told, my friends, I've been feeling down lately. But it's difficult to really describe properly.
I had no ethusiam for anything I was doing. Or at least no real faith that what I was doing creatively was any good.
Suppose the easiest to show what I mean is this way:

If I go into a pub or club sooner or later (probably sooner) I'll start thinking that everyone in the establishment is either more interesting, more humourous etc etc than me. Basically they are more fun and generally a far better person than I am. They're probably not, but that is what it feels like to me. Now most of the time I can shrug it off. But even then it's still lurking there at the back of my mind just waiting for a moment to strike. Those moments, as a rule, come in the quiet moments. Like Bank Holidays and Easter weekends. (For those that know, it also comes when other people read their work out in creative writing class). It's rather difficult to explain. I more than likely think too much about these things.

I don't know why it happens.
I don't know how to stop it happening again.

Actually this is quite good because writing it down and then casting it off into the great dark abyss of the internet is a nice feeling because it's nice to be able to write it down and see how stupid it is in print. Even if no one reads it.

Ta ta for now

Like Ships That Pass In The Night - Part 6

Good afternoon my dear reader (s)

Well hear we are again. So are you sitting comfortably? Good then I'll begin.

So here I'm bringing to you, my loyal follower, the sixth part of the flash fiction collection. Yes, it really is Part 6! Which given that it originally wasn't going to go beyond the first one is rather impressive I think. But you, yes you, my dear readers, wanted, nay, demanded that I carried on. So now we get to here: the penultimate episode. Thoughts always welcome on this as well

ta ta for now
 **

 

Like Ships That Pass In The Night

Part 6

“Correction”

Anthony sits on the bench on the platform. He remembers the moment. He was kissing his sister goodbye when the woman with the shy smile and skinny latte walked by with a look of sadness on her face. He had wanted to go after her and see if she had been alright. He sits staring at the floor, the cracks on the pavement and the lone piece of discarded chewing gum mere inches from his right foot.

The words of his sister come back to him, telling him to go full out for this woman. To take that chance and maybe, just maybe to grab his chance at happiness instead of watching it float away down the river of life to become just another missed opportunity. To see if she wanted that cup of coffee after all. He smiles slightly at that. She can have the coffee, he’ll have tea.

He hears the announcement that his train will be arriving at the platform followed by the motion of people jostling for position, all trying to the first on to the train thus ensuring they get an all important seat. He remembers helping her on to the train that first time and it was because they were both standing that he helped her from the train with her heavy suitcase.

The train pulls into the station and the doors slowly open. Before anyone can get on though the passengers coming here have to alight so gaps appear in the waiting crowd. It’s now that Anthony stands up and surveys the scene. People walking passed him as they make their way to the exit. He sees her walking with them. He knows he has to do it. It’s now or never. He moves over to her. She stops right in front of him and for a moment there is silence as they both look for permission to proceed.

“Hello again.” He says

“Hello” she replies

“I was going to see if you wanted that coffee but I haven’t seen you”

“I was on the night shift this week. At the hospital.”

“Oh right. Maybe some other time?”

“I’m not sure your wife would approve.”

Anthony’s brow furrows in confusion.

“My wife?” he asks

“I saw you getting out of the taxi with her and the wedding ring on her finger.”

“She’s not my wife. She’s my sister.”

Her eyes widen at the realisation of her error and she feels her face going warn through embarrassment. She breaks eye contact and looks around for anything to divert her from the mistake, to look anywhere but at him. She begins to move away from him hoping he won’t say anything.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’m not married if that’s any help,” He says gently.

She looks up at his smiling face and feels herself relax. She doesn’t say anything but merely nods in understanding.

“So, maybe next week then?” He asks

“Maybe,” She replies

“I’m Anthony,” He says

“I’m Charlotte,” She replies.

I geek, therefore I am

Hello my dear reader,

Well it's Saturday night and here we are. Or to be more precise, here I am because you aren't reading this yet.  You're probably all out in some nightclub somewhere drinking and dancing the night away. Not that I'm jealous or anything. Absolutely not. *sniff*. So let's just say that when I started writing this it was Saturday evening and leave it at that.

Besides I'm writing this and you're not. And I've got Madness playing. On my ipod - they're not actually here in my house though it would be cool, if rather strange, if they were.

Anyway, earlier today I did something that I've never done before.

(Leave it! You're making your own jokes up and being rude!).

 Right where was I? Oh that's right: I ordered some stamps. Not bought you may notice. Ordered. And not any old stamps either (at this point if you're a fb friend you'll know what I'm about to say). No sir. These were a set of special Doctor Who 50th anniversary stamps.

Yes, I know your impressed!

Now before you all start to snigger and shout 'GEEK!' let me take the wind out of your sails and say 'Yes I am, but so what?"

I like science fiction. I read it, I watch it, I write it.

And

I like Doctor Who. What's not to like about a 900+ yr old alien that can change his appearance and can go anywhere and anytime in the universe. And more importantly tries to do good and right wrong doings without resorting to just blowing it up if he can help it. So why shouldn't I like it?  So why do some people seem to think that it is ok to mock other people for their interests when it more than likely is far better than some other thing that a person can be doing. Yes there are some out there who can probably name every character that spent more than five minutes on screen during the entire Peter Davison run of the show but then there are probably some out there who could not only name every goal scorer in every FA cup final but also tell you what minute the goal went in. So which of those two are the more geeky?

And really, does it matter.

Ta ta for now

A black cross on my door

Well hello my dear readers,

Did you miss me? What you mean 'no'? How dare you. I shall be most offended by your lack of loyalty.

Just kidding. I know you missed me really. You were just messing with me. Come here and give me a hug. Please.

*sniff*
No one loves me.
*sniff*

Anyway, I bet you've been wondering why I've been absent from here for the past week so I'm going to tell you. Well, I going to tell you even if you weren't wondering so you may as well make yourself comfortable.
See, dear reader, I wasn't feeling very well. There I was ready to type some wonderful, insiteful and witty words onto this page when I was struck down by the most insidious and debilitating of germs, rending me virtually incapable of even the most basic of functions. The illness which can strike down half the population of the earth without mercy but is almost criminally misunderstood by the other half leading to slanderous accusations and hideous recrimination.

I am, of course, referring to...

MAN-FLU

Yes, my dear reader, Man-flu

It was terrible. For a moment it was touch and go. But you know what? Armed only with willpower and Beecham's capsules I pulled through. I was that man. I was that brave soldier who doesn't know when he's beaten. I went to work everyday. I refused to be beaten down. I stood tall, back straight, slightly wheezy chest out and firm jaw manfully set against a slowly waning sunset and I looked the Man-flu straight in the eye and I said "No! I refuse to stay home and watch Bargain Hunt, Loose Women and Cbeebies. I shall not yield."

And yield I did not dear reader. I struggled to work. I struggled to the pub on Friday night and I struggled to have those pints of lager.

And dear reader, I was victorious.


So now, I can say...

I'm back
It's been a long hard road and there were times when I stumbled but I never fell. Knowing you were here waiting on my words pulled me through those darkest of hours. And for that I can only say, inadequate as these words must surely be..

Thank you

*'Holding Out For a Hero' starts to play in the background. I stand tall as a single manly tear slowly rolls down my cheek*

Like Ships that Pass In The Night - Part 5

And so without further ado (and no waffle as promised) here is part 5

----

Like Ships That Pass In the Night

Part 5

“Taxi”

The traffic lights turn to red and the taxi pulls up. The warm afternoon sun shines though the window onto the two passengers.

“It’s stupid I know” says the man        

“Not really,” the woman replies, “there might be a perfectly good reason why she refused the offer of a coffee.”

The lights turn from red to green and the taxi starts off again.

“What time is your train?” he asks.

“Twenty past five. And don’t change the subject.” The woman smiles as she speaks, brushing her blonde hair back over an ear.

“Give me a break,” he replies. He shuffles awkwardly in his seat and looks out of the window into the streets as the pass by. He watches as the pedestrians go about their own lives with their own hopes and dreams. How many are like his, he wonders, how many dramas are being played out at this moment thanks to a chance encounter at a train station.

“You’re not going sulk, are you Anthony?” the woman says playfully, “I shall have to tell Steven if you do.”

“You can tell my brother in law whatever you like,” Anthony says.

. The taxi drives around a corner, a little too fast and Anthony has to grab the arm rest of the door to stop himself sliding into his sister. She brings a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“You need to ask her again. You know what they say, nothing ventured and all that.”

“If I ever see her again.”

“Now don’t go all sourpuss on me little brother. That’s always been your trouble.”

“There could be any number of obstacles. She could be married. She might not like me,”

“She might just feel the same way you do,” She says leaning over, “you’ll never know unless you try.”

Anthony sees the approach to the station and a few seconds later they have arrived. He can see the amount to pay on the display above the taxi drivers head and pulls out his wallet. Handing over a ten pound note he tells the driver to keep the change. He steps out holding the door as his sister gets out after him. The door is closed as the taxi pulls away.

“Got everything?” He asks.

“It was only an afternoon trip little brother. We see too little of each other as it is.”

“Well don’t leave it so long next time. Give my love to Steven.” He takes his sister in a warm embrace and kisses her on the cheek. She is about to walk away when she sees Anthony has paused and is looking at someone. She follows his gaze and sees a woman coming out of the station carrying a coffee. She watches as he raises his hand to wave and sees the light and joy in his eyes. Then she watches as the woman pauses for a moment before hurrying off down the road and her brother’s face happiness to turn confusion.

Like Ships That Pass In The Night - Part 4

Good evening to you my lovely little reader.

Well when I say lovely I'm talking to the lovely lady readers out there. So for the blokes amongst you:

Alright mate. How's it going? Fancy a pint mate?

Right, so that's the pleasantries out of the way lets get down to business shall we? (that sounds rather naughty doesn't it? *snigger* Although if there are any ladies out there reading this I'm 37 and SINGLE).

So here for your eyes and mind is Part 4 of the flash fiction series 'Like Ships That Pass In the Night'. In the next post will be Part 5. Without all this waffle though. You'll see why I was inspired to write the two so quickly when you read them.

Enjoy!

Ta ta for now

---

Like Ships That Pass In The Night

Part 4

“Assumption”

The announcement comes over the tannoy on the train that they will shortly be arriving at the station. It’s been a long stressful week but now she knows she’ll shortly be home. Its late afternoon but not quite rush hour so the train is quiet as she hoped it would be. She could do without a full carriage, people crowded in on each other. She wonders if he will be there and is surprised to find that she hopes he will be. If only so she can return the offer of coffee. Is he thinking the same thing she wonders? They don’t even know each others name so she doubts it. The outside world, once a blur, now starts to come into focus as the train slows on approach to the station. A few people stand up and begin to put on coats and after a few moments she does the same. It is a warm afternoon so hats, scarves and gloves are not required today. She makes her way along the carriage as the train pulls up along the platform. Coming to a halt, the doors open and she steps down off the carriage onto the cold concrete floor. Without lingering she makes her way to the stairs and the exit. He’s not here on the platform anyway she thinks. Why would he be there? He won’t be waiting as he doesn’t know you’re here she tells herself. Don’t be so stupid. You don’t know anything about the man. Her heels clack on the steps as she walks up them her hand lightly trailing on the banister. She is not in a rush so walks a steady pace  along the walkway on the bridge. A whistle is blown on one of the platforms below her and the noise of a train moving off fills the air. As she starts to walk down the steps going down to the main area of the station she can see that it is, as always, busy with people. Some are now just finishing work and beginning their journeys home; others doing the opposite and beginning a night shift. Ticket in hand she makes her way through the turnstile. It is now time for a coffee she thinks and there is no queue so she makes her way over to the little shop and asks for a skinny latté. Her usual. A few minutes later coffee in hand she makes her way out of the station premises. A taxi pulls up outside and she stops and watches as he gets out. She thinks about calling out to him but stops as he holds the door open and a woman gets out, they embrace and he kisses her on the cheek. He smiles as he spots her with a coffee in her hand and sends her a quick wave. Swallowing hard she quickly walks on without noticing the now confused look on his face.