Head Rambles

Grandad December 8th, 2007

Today is one of those days.

I woke with a hangover, which is very unfair, as I wasn’t drinking last night. It’s like doing a sentence without the benefit of the crime. I have been unjustly convicted of drinking.

So my head is in a fuzz.

It’s one of those days when I wander into a room, and then wonder what the f*ck I went in for.

On top of that, I have just broken my lighter. I had only just filled it with gas, and it dropped on the floor and all those little bits of tinny things went skittering everywhere and I can’t get it back together again. A Humpty Dumpty Lighter.

And one of my prize young trees was leaning precariously in the gales we are having at the moment, so I had to go out in the lashing rain and re-stake it.

And I have just had to do a podcast with America and Australia, and I couldn’t think of anything to say. [Which reminds me - the last one we did has finally been edited and has been put on the Interweb - "Kilos of Craic"]

Being silent can work on television, but it doesn’t go down very well on radio, like miming or juggling.

And now I finally sit down to scribble on my blog, and I can’t think of a single thing to say. I’m not even sure what a blog is, just at the moment.

It’s what I call a Senior Moment. Except that it has lasted all morning and a bit of the afternoon.

I have just remembered why I went into the bathroom ten minutes ago.

I need a pee.

• Getting old
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Grandad December 7th, 2007

Being a celebrity is really hard work.

The hardest part is fighting off all the beautiful young women who insist on crawling all over me.

Elaine [Head of the Grandad Fan Club]

It is difficult at my age.

Here I am chatting up Maura McGrath of Jenerate [who sponsored the Blog bit] and I have a furious Glenda about to thump me for ignoring her. I can’t win.

But that damned smoking law isn’t going to spoil my night.

Of course, as soon as I had a spider in my hand, it was too much for Elaine, and she was back. [The other bloke is Cully by the way, not Liam Neeson's son]

At this stage I was getting really worried.  There was another approaching from behind me with a huge tarantula crawling out of her cleavage.

With three spiders, we got a little rowdy, but that was before the band struck up.  They would have drowned out a Shuttle Launch.  Incidentally, the very sophisticated young lady seated beside me is K8 the GR8.

It was a bit wild, because Elaine was also celebrating getting her Masters exams that day, and also I had just signed the book deal.

Frankly, I was glad to get back to the peace and quiet of the mountains.  I could take off that ridiculous suit, get back into my old jeans and jumper and my wooly hat and try to live the life of an anonymous celebrity in the bogs.

• Getting old , Rambles , The Book
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Grandad November 11th, 2007

Our K8 has come up with a new meme.

And, bless her little cotton socks, she has passed it on to me.

She wants me to write a post that uses every tag. It’s all very well for her - she only has a few. I have loads. The cow!

Now I may be getting old but I find these difficult. I had a hard days blogging yesterday, as I had a good rant on a podcast to America. That was after I did my post on Cully and Sully.

So today I went for a ramble around the garden, trying to think of a topic. No go. There was no inspiration around the house either, and I’m damned if I’m going around the village or around the town for something so trivial.

Back in the 70’s life was a lot simpler. There were no computers or Internet, or even television so there were no memes. I had no irritating daughter in the family either. We found our pleasures in simple things. I remember learning to drive so we could go on holidays touring in the West, with no worries about flying and Global Warming. We had such simple sports as children in times past, like watching spiders spin their webs, and the designs they’d make. We’d go for rambles through the woods and have picnics of tea and spam sandwiches. We were a lot healthier for it.

Nowadays, work is the new religion and people have lost the use of their imagination. People only get worked up over celebrities and smoking out corrupt politicians. They panic over property prices and have lost sight of the soul of life.

No.

I can’t think of anything.

I elect not to do it.

I’m going to file this under Uncatagorised.

Maybe Sixty should have a bash at this?

Or how about Kirk at Just Thinkin’? I haven’t tagged him before.

And it’s a while since I annoyed Grannymar!!

F*cking memes….

• America , Around the garden , Around the house , Around the town , Around the village , Back to the 70s , Cully & Sully , Election , Getting old , Global Warming , Health , Holidays , Internet , Learning to drive , On the road , Podcasting , Politics , Property , Rambles , Rants , Religion? , Smoking , Television , The Family , Times past , Tourists , Uncategorized , Web design , computers , spam , sport , work
• Comments(18)

Grandad October 17th, 2007

Most of the time I know what I am doing.

Most of the time I know where I am.

Rarely do I know when I am.

This seems to be a problem in this household. We keep getting confused as to what day of the week it is. In fact, I had to buy a watch especially. I like analogue watches, because I have always used them. I hate digital watches. So I have an analogue watch with a digital display on it that shows me the date, and more importantly the day.

Yesterday, I received an email from one of my probation officers. He wanted a report [for the courts or something], and he wanted it urgently. I wrote back and said I was busy [because you can't let these people boss you around]. I said I would do it over the weekend and would have it for him by Monday.

Then I realised that it was Tuesday and not Friday, and I had to write back and apologise. And I hate apologising to probation officers. It upsets the natural pecking order.

With one thing and another, things are a bit hectic here at the moment. Gone are the glory days when I could relax and surf around the blogs, not leaving comments on them [yes - I'm a lurker]. Gone are the days where I could have a reply for everyone who commented.

You see, I suddenly have a whole load of things to do on the work front, and it is annoying me. My fuckwads customers punters clients keep changing the goal posts and they suddenly want everything yesterday [having been quite happy and quiet for most of the year].

All I want to do now is take a nap. But I can’t because I have so much to do. And anyway those b*st*rds next door are making too much noise.

So if I’m a bit erratic with my postings in the future, or if I don’t reply to all your comments, I’m sorry.

I’m tired.

I’m weary.

God help me if the battery in my watch dies.

• Getting old
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Grandad October 11th, 2007

I wandered over to Poodwaddle.

I know that sounds like some place in the Australian Outback, but it isn’t. It’s a weird site that has all sorts of clocks on it.

I went to the Age Calculator.

I put in my age, and then answered all 33 or 34 questions. I didn’t lie. I told the absolute truth. I even told the truth about my smoking.

Interesting.

Apparently, my Virtual Age [which is apparently the state of physical health of my body] is only 40.9. Sure I’m only a nipper!!

The other thing though, is that apparently my life expectancy is 94.1. I like the 0.1 - it means I can calculate to the month.

This means I have another 30 to 40 years to go [assuming Ron or the CIA don't get me first].

Will my pension last that long?

Can you put up with me for that long?

Can I put up with me for that long?

-oOo-

Damnit!!

As soon as I posted this they removed the clock out of Poodwaddle, for legal reasons.

They give an alternative site, so I took the test there.

That gives me a physical Age of 36.5 !!! I’ve just gained four and a half years

And my life expectancy has shot up to 99. Wow. I might get the telegram from the Pres yet…

• Getting old
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Grandad October 7th, 2007

When I started this blogging, I thought I was entering a world of twentysomethings and thirtysomethings.

I called myself a “Senior Irish Citizen” to mark myself out from the young crowd. Like a dog pees against a tree to mark his territory.

But I am amazed to find that in fact my readers range in age from twenty or so to the over-eighties. A range of over sixty years! I’m only a youngster in comparison to some. It’s an eye opener, and I’m delighted.

There is one thing that gets on my tits though. There seems to be this thing in America of calling people Boomers. I hate that expression. I always thought that a boomer was some kind of code for a Russian submarine. Though, to me, it conjures up an image of a suicide bomber.

I’m not a suicide bomber! In fact I don’t really want to be labelled as an age group at all. I hate labelling. I’m not ‘old’. I’m not ‘elderly’. I’m not in my ‘golden years’. ‘Senior’ is OK, because a 15 year old is senior to a 14 year old. I used ‘Senior’ because I thought I would be older than most of my readers. So I label myself as a Grandad, because I am one. I label myself as retired, because I am. But these are ageless terms. Technically, I could be a grandfather in my thirties. Technically, I could be retired at any age.

The only title I sometimes bestow upon myself is ‘Old Fart’. This is partially correct, as Herself was giving out to me again last night for my resounding flatulence, which echoed through the halls of Head Rambles Manor.

So if people must apply some kind of label to those of us who’s lives don’t orbit around the latest episode of ‘Heros’ or Bebo or what Paris and Britney are up to, then let’s think up a new label.

Something along the line of “Thinkers” or “Experienced” or BTDTWTTS [Been there, done that, worn the t-shirt].

Any ideas?

• Getting old , Internet , Rambles
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