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Thoughts on spring

Grandad March 15th, 2010

My whole world collapsed over the weekend.

It was absolutely devastating, but these thing happen, and you just have to roll with them.

I have a favourite armchair. I have had it for years, and it is extremely comfy. It has nicely moulded itself to my contours and over the years, we have exchanged molecules so that I am part chair and it is part me.

I was sitting there minding my own business, when there as a bang, and I descended.

Yes. I went down in the world. The fucking chair had broken.

I spent a day in my lower position, pondering my lower perspective of the world and I felt rather nervous. If one whatever-it-was can break, then so can the others. Was it just a matter of time before I ended on the floor?

In the end, I upended the chair and cut the bottom off to take a look inside. There was quite a lot in there. There was a lot of dust and fluff, a dead mouse, two slices of pizza [I don’t know how they got there as I do not like pizza], several paper clips, €3.27 in small change and a broken spring. Yup – the steel spring had snapped.

I haven’t the vaguest idea where you can buy those springs, so I decided that rather than drive myself demented trying to buy a new one, that I would repair the old one. That is not quite as easy as you may think, as I don’t happen to have a welding torch, and anyway that just would have burned my chair to a crisp.

Any man worth his salt will tell you that one of the most vital things to have around the house is a Vice Grip and a few old wire coat hangers.

I set to work.

chair fix

I’m quite proud of my efforts.

My binding tried to thwart me by slipping off, so I had to add some bits to stop any sideways movement, but as feats of engineering go, I think it’s up there with the Forth Bridge and the Hoover Dam?

I’m sitting back in my chair now. I have gone back up in the world.

Spring may not have arrived yet, but it is fixed.

Looking for Morpheus

Grandad March 9th, 2010

I didn’t get much sleep on Sunday night.

I don’t know what the cause was. It was just one of those things. For hours, I lay in bed and stared at the darkness, but the brain just refused to sleep.

Eventually, I did nod off, and was woken by the dog a couple of hours later. Once again, I was wide awake, so I decided to cut my losses and get up.

Yesterday was a shit day. I like my sleep, and when I don’t get it, I’m like Mary Harney without the HRT. All day, I wandered around in a bit of a haze, kicking the guinea pigs [they make quite good footballs, incidentally] and generally breaking things.

My one consolation was that I knew I would have a grand sleep last night, because I was knackered. I didn’t get to bed too early because a certain dimwit had fucked up his site, and he came clamouring to me, late in the evening to fix it. I told him to fuck off, but he said he’d pay me in pints at the Blog Awards. That was enough for me, so I set about fixing it.

I quit after a couple of hours, and went to bed.

Do you think I could sleep? Like fuck, I could.

I lay there for five hours or so staring at my old friend the darkness. I tossed and turned but Morpheus had fucked off on his holidays. No sleep. Not a single fucking wink.

I got up as dawn broke, as I was sick of the tossing and turning. I went back to Dimwit’s site and eventually fixed his problem. Three hours in total, it took me.

I did some sums.

I think I am worth around €100 per hour as a consultant. Three hours? Three hundred smackers. Converted to pints, that comes out at somewhere around eighty pints that Dimwit owes me.

Now, I should sleep after that…………

Going for a Wii

Grandad March 8th, 2010

I am going to the Irish Blog Awards for several reasons.

First and foremost, I think I deserve some [hah! some?] pints with my old friends that I met in the previous couple of sessions.

Another reason is that there are a lot of you women who attended last year, who would like a second crack at The Ultimate Sensual Experience. It’s true what they say about the oldest fiddle making the sweetest music, as I’m sure you will agree? However, on my doctor’s advice, I’m afraid I have to limit myself to no more that eight women this year, so it will be on a first ~~cum~~ come first served basis, as it were.

Also I have booked a place further west for the next few nights, so Galway is merely an overnight stop on the way to better things.

The one reason I am not going is to pick up an award, as I very much doubt that that will happen. It didn’t happen last year [ya miserable fuckers!] so I’m not holding my breath for this year.

There is one thing that does concern me about the Awards thing though, and that is Herself.

You see, she isn’t fit.

I have noticed this lately. It takes her twice as long now to plant a field of potatoes as it used to. I also notice that when I let her carry my bags, she tends to drop them a lot. It was time I did something about it.

I went and bought a Wii.

I have never bought a games console before, and the very name of the Wii makes me want to vomit, but in times of crisis I have to put my principles to one side. I really need her to be fit in case she has to carry me anywhere.

I set it up, and she insisted that I try it first, so I did. I am, apparently a perfect specimen of manhood, but then you all know this anyway. My balance is perfect and my Body Mass Index is bang in the middle of the ‘Ideal’ range. I did a few exercises and notched up quite a good score.

Then it was her turn.

She stepped up onto the little pad thingy, and the Wii screamed. She fell off with the fright and landed on the coffee table, which of course smashed. She then tried standing on one leg. That went well…. for about half a second. She slowly keeled over, like one of those brick chimneys being demolished, and ended in a heap in the dog’s bed. She cried; I sighed.

I think there is a lot of work to be done before the end of the month.

A very moving tribute

Grandad February 28th, 2010

Looking back, I think I may have been a little harsh in my treatment of Herself.

She has been [and continues to be] a good wife and a good mother.

During our thirty five and more years together, she has stood by me in my times of trouble and tribulation. She worked very hard to pay the mortgage. She managed to bring up our daughter K8 with only relatively minor psychological problems. She was even good enough to keep her family at bay [most of the time], leaving me to lead a peaceful life.

Yes. She has been a wonderful wife to me, and I have treated her harshly, I’m sure you will agree.

This is going to change.

The time has come for me to show my appreciation for the years of backbreaking sweat and toil she has put into making our marriage a happy one.

I have a little surprise for her.

I have been doing some renovations when she hasn’t been around. I have been busy tidying and decorating. I am finished and I think she will love my work.

Tomorrow, I am going to break the wonderful news to her.

I’m moving her out of the coal hole at last.

I hope she is very happy in the garden shed.

Two up two down

Grandad February 24th, 2010

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to expand my property portfolio.

I know property is supposed to be a dirty word these days, but I refuse to believe everything I read in the papers, and anyway this property was on the market at a reasonable price, so I bought it.

It is a nice little property. It’s a two story, two bed detached house. The ground floor is open plan and upstairs there are two bedrooms with a wee mezzanine level. All rooms are en-suite.

Guinea pig house.

It is intended to go outdoors, but while this fucking snow and frost persist, it is remaining in the kitchen.

It is working very well. There is a trapdoor between the two levels, so it can serve as one large house, or two apartments, hence the water bottles on each level. Unfortunately, Minnie has discovered that she can open the trapdoor from underneath, so she has to stay in the penthouse suite, while Fizz has the ground floor.

Normally they are very happy there. I separate the guinea pigs at night so they can get some peace and quiet, and then open the trapdoor so they can meet up and have a smoke and a gossip during the daytime.

This morning was different.

I don’t know what got into them, but as soon as I came into the kitchen, they kicked up a mighty racket. Both of them started twanging the bars, which they know drives me mad. I checked that they both had food and water, which they had which made a change. I then opened the trapdoor, thinking they might be hankering for a bit of a natter.

That was a mistake.

Minnie gave a loud yell of “get your knickers off, you little slut” and she went hammering down the stairs to bugger Minnie. Lesbian guinea pigs are so fucking tiresome.

All hell broke loose as Minnie chased Fizz around the house, as I have a feeling that while Minnie is a lesbian, Fizz isn’t, which makes life difficult for Fizz. Minnie roared obscenities and Fizz kept telling her to fuck off. They made one hell of a racket. I couldn’t hear myself think.

I had to arrest Minnie for harassment in the end, and she is now sentenced to five hours in her old cage on top of the rubbish bin where she is in a sulk. Fizz [as you can see from the photograph] is sitting, looking rather stunned and is probably wondering what the fuck happened.

Maybe, on second thoughts this property lark isn’t quite all that it’s cracked up to be.