Perma.

It's like an Arctic Fox's homecoming.

Frost covers the ground. A frost, the likes of which I do not remember. For three consecutive days, I have woken to a glistening white slick of shimmering crystals. Then, when I have taken my Lemsip (boom boom) and look out of the window... everything is frozen over.

The low rise, boot cut sun, which doesn't rise above fifteen degrees over the horizon, does not help the struggling temperatures which don't rise more than a couple of degrees above the cold night's attempts. It does, however, look pretty, filtered through a misty haze, so as to appear as a perfect bright white ball, gently bouncing across the hilltops.

A hard frost. Frost of the roads, the paving, the grass, the trees. Everything covered, in what has not melted for three consecutive days. The start of an ice age. Thank God for the temperate climate control. Winter is such a beautiful time, I would hate to miss it.

My man flu is on the mend, and I have finally joined, rank and file, into the procession of lemming shoppers, queueing up to throw ourselves off the Disney Store rooftop. It's depressing. I get depressed at buying people "things" for things' sake. I get even more depressed at the idea that I might forget to buy someone something for something's sake!! It's catch 22, and the chemists are all sold out of the tablets to counteract it... I noticed whilst stocking up on sore throat remedies.

Seems I am never happy unless I have something to moan about these days.

I like the frost though.

Argh.

It's now officially four days of being sofa ridden and house bound, struck down with a fatal dose of man flu.

Feverish. Uncontrollable temperature, soaring like and eagle and plunging into the icy depths, with all the grace of a three legged penguin.

Yesterday, beer was mentioned, and although I am in no fit state to entertain a lovely frothy pint at this moment, there is the chance that if I make a significant improvement, that I could visit the Drop Inn's winter beer festival (14th to 16th December in Elland). That's definitely something I will be trying to get to.

I've still got a hundred weight of Christmas and birthday shopping to do. My paperwork has all run away from me. My car needs booking on for a service and MOT. I have about two months of photography that needs sorting out!!! My whole life is collapsing around me.

I really could have done without the green lurgy this week.

Blech!

I'm dying.

... to the power of ten, coupled with a death-rattling bronchial chest infection. It's like coughing out oysters that carry flick-knives!! A sore throat that feels like I've swallowed a tennis ball made of razor wire. Every tendon, muscle, nerve and piece of connective tissue seem to be fused into a big lump, that is of course rolling down a rocky hill and I am feeling every jolt, knock, and scrape.

Yes, it's the annual onset of man flu.

You girls are SO lucky you never have to deal with man flu, I can tell you. You're just fortunate that we lie on the sofa and expect you to run around after us, and that you are immune to this specially mutated extreme winter virus.

I can't even enjoy lounging on my sofa, which has turned into a fire breathing bed of nails, covered with a blanket of Vesuvian lava or a dense sheet of permafrost, depending which way the virus is pedaling at the time.

Joy to the world!!

Bollocks and humbug!!

All quiet...

... on the western front.

Since relinquishing chicken and cat control to my folks, I've been struggling to get my own house back into a working order.

It's one thing to move back to being permanently based in a house, and a completely different thing to make sure there's enough to eat and drink, and another completely separate thing to ensure that all the bills, paperwork and documentation are as up-to-date as possible.

On top of reclaiming my territory comes the task of re-centralising all my media files. It's amazing just how many sights and sounds files you can amass over the course of six weeks, and how completely randomly interspersed across all manner of media they can become. There is data everywhere!!

On the odd occasion where Dawn and I have a mutually "vacant" stretch, we are completely preoccupied with supermarket shopping and Christmas shopping. Today, as an example, saw me spending three hours in a single supermarket!! How can that be??

On top of Christmas, there's the matter of birthdays for Connor, Dawn, and finally Tom, all in the week before Christmas day.

It's hard work. Everyone should just create a "wishlist" and life could be much easier.

I think winter is just around the corner. A completely clear sky and frosty night.

Please wait.....

Searching......

It's the weekly rundown on those lost souls that stumbled into my blog, and what they might have been looking for.

BEST BEDSORE CREAM (Google)
Ouch, my research into the world of bedsores on behalf of this errant Googler have not been pleasant. Some of the images have turned my stomach over!! It would seem that treatment of bedsores with creams is not necessarily the best course of action. There are a range of treatments that must be used in a multidisciplined approach. If you want a cream, then perhaps try: Vasogen or Sudocrem antiseptic healing cream.

shadow stone Fold by Andy Goldsworthy (Google)
Everyone knows I love the Goldsworthy. I have been lucky enough to visit the Yorkshire Sculpture Park 2007 exhibition on two occasions this year. The "shadow stone fold" is a sheep fold at the park, with a large "shadow stone" at the heart of it. You are supposed to lie on the stone and create rain shadows, but it's never rained when I have visited.


has anyone used digitalfirst (Google)
Yes, I have. I bought my camera from them after EGears let me down, badly. Digitalfirst were actually very good. They did exactly what they said they would do, they did it when they said they would do it, and it was a lovely experience. I would not hesitate to recommend them.

magical eleves, cadburys (Google)
Now, I am assuming here, that you were actually looking for the magical chocolate making elves that work at Cadburys? Well, I'm disappointed to tell you that the real magical elves that work in a chocolate factory are actually employed by Willy Wonka!!! If you MUST pursue the Cadburys inferior variety, then they're here.

hot water bottle tummy fetish (Google)
I can honestly say, hand on heart, I don't know what the heck you are. What the hell were you looking for, really? This? Or this? I don't know.

megadrive game fox pig (Google)
Interesting one. The only game I can think of for the Megadrive that involves a fox, would be Psycho Fox, but it doesn't seem very "pig" oriented at the other end of the spectrum. The only other thing that I can think of, is a game called Pooyan which involved pigs and a fox and a bow and arrow. A real arcade classic.

Monologue of an arctic fox (Google)
You're reading it, right here!!

do arctic foxes eat people (Google)
Nobody that ever saw one lived to tell the tale. I guess that's a bit like shutting your head in the fridge door to see of the light goes out when you close it?

find me a slut in blackpool (Google)
Find your own slut in Blackpool you lazy bugger!!

wessenden cam (Google)
I don't think there's a Wessenden webcam. There are plenty of pictures of Wessenden though. If you actually meant to type Wessenden Dam, then you're sadly mistaken, because Wessenden is a reservoir. You can see it here.

Bloody meme!

So I've been tagged by Grilled Pizza

The rules

1. Link back to the person who tagged you. (Check)

2. Imagine you could send a letter back in time to yourself, when you were 13 years old, what would you write to yourself? (check)

3. Tag 5 people to do this blog (check) - spice-the-cat; maxxo; Toad; Mr Clack; Mr Pudding.

Ok, well let me set the scene. I would have been 13 in the year 1981. The letter I would write would go along these lines:



Dear Wevz,

I am speaking to you from the future... uture.... uture.

Believe it or not, but you have somehow managed to send yourself a letter from the year 2007, and Michael J Fox (who you probably may only know as a bit part actor) has not yet begun his successful time travelling trilogy. Make sure you go and see them at the movies when he does, because they're good fun.

I could pass along any amount of advice to you, which would help you run your life. I could try to help you make things turn out differently, but in all honesty, I think you've turned out alright. I wouldn't want to change your reckless, oftentimes spontaneous attitude towards life. Whatever stupid choices you make along the way haven't landed you in jail or killed you thus far, and you've had some wild experiences that will teach you a lot about life.

The best pieces of advice I can give you are:

Read more books.

Check out the newsagent's daughter where you get your Beano and Dandy!!

Look after your toys and games, especially Chartbuster!!

Never turn down a night out at The Orbit in Morley, contrary to what you believe, it will not be there forever.

Try harder at school you big idiot. Listen to your English teachers and your form teachers, they do actually care what happens to you.

Look after your feet. You only get one pair, and when they're not in good shape, it's very frustrating.

If you MUST smoke, then choose a VERY light brand of cigarette.

Do not lose this letter or tell anyone else about it.

To finish this letter, I can tell you:

In the future there will be something called a lottery. It's like a big raffle.

Make sure, that for the "Euromillions lottery" draw on Friday 30th November 2007, you choose the following numbers:

12 : 19 : 20 : 30 : 38 and the lucky stars are 07 and 09

Lots of love,

The Arctic Fox!

Imagine....

Imagine a world where I've been in limbo. A world where there are no comfortable chairs. Where cats are revered as gods. Where the longest bit of making a meal is waiting for the oven to warm up. A world so devoid of home comforts that I spend more time with a vacuum cleaner in my hand than I do watching films or playing on Pogo.

Limbo... how low can you go.... how low can you go....

Well, I am pleased to announce the return of my folks from their trip to Australia. They arrived back this morning (at about eight thirty AM) in the middle of my hangover. Pints, last evening, at the newly "Atlas Mill Brewery" acquired "Dog and Bull", and the "Rat and Ratchet" (merely as an excuse to purloin some of Lahori Taste's excellent fish pakoras) saw me a bit pissed. Subsequently, I always manage to tip out far too much of their chilli sauce onto my food!! I definitely suffer from chilli coloured beer goggles.

So, my tenure of dual citizenship is relinquished. Finally, and not a week too soon!! I don't think I'd have lasted another week. Thirty nine days done and dusted, and vacced and mopped, and fed and watered, filled and emptied, washed and polished, and laid to rest.

Imagine my horror at finally getting back to "google reader" to find a deficit of six hundred and thirty eight unread items. this bitter pill is only marginally sweetened by the fact that one blog alone accounts for one hundred and eighty five of those articles alone!!!

So, you can imagine, finally liberated, able to come and go as I please, I am glued to my laptop trying to play catch up. No doubt I will be catching up with you all very soon.

Finally, finale.

I am not the sort of person that claims that Arnold Schwarzenegger, in Action Movie X, could not possibly have fired eight rounds from the chamber of a Glock 31 in under half a second, because the bullets would jam in the barrel. For the record, that's not even a fact, I just completely made it up to illustrate how untechnical I can be.

I AM the sort of person that wonders, if Linda Lovelace really suffered from that mythical condition in that very rude film, then how the hell did she manage to eat breakfast? Toast, madam? Are you mad, it'd be like sandpapering my... well you get the idea!!

As a long-time sufferer at the hands of the horror genre and all the inevitable plot holes and flaws that go with the territory, it's not uncommon to find myself reassuring those around me that I may have forced to watch a terrible movie, that the reason she doesn't shoot the zombie or run the other way instead, is that there would be no movie if she did.

I'm no stranger to suspension of belief. Sometimes the suspension has to be so enormous that it would put the Akashi-Kaikyo Bridge to shame. If the movie or television programme is one that is otherwise enjoyable, then turning a blind eye is not too difficult.

And so, with great anticipation, last evening, after twenty two weekly episodes, I sat down to watch the conclusion of Heroes season one. I honestly did not know how it would end, or what to expect. Like so many viewing experiences before, I honestly was prepared to be disappointed, but kept the fire of hope burning (just in case).

And how was it?

Despite the fact that the whole series has toyed with the past, the present, and indeed the future, you would have expected to have seen what was coming, several times, from several different angles already. Well, you hadn't, and I didn't see it coming. It was.....

Simple, sensible, unpredictable, satisfying, elegant, and enjoyable.

Now, if only I could imagine that for just one minute, the second series will not simply turn this great show into just another ongoing money spinning "Lost" or "24" or "Prison Break" -esque shadow of its former self.

Suspension of disbelief can only take you so far before you plunge into the icy water below and wake up back in reality!!

In other news.....

Stop press: My folks are already on their way back to Blighty. They'll be home at some ungodly hour in the morning.

City Link delivery: This morning, in order that I would not miss the delivery, I decided to get up super-early, which for me is eight thirty AM, and feed and water the menagerie, before spending the rest of the day in my house waiting for deliveries. I was home by nine AM and of course the delivery arrived at nine thirty. Amazing, and I am bloody glad I made the effort to get out of bed. Normally I get "last drop" at half past five in the evening, and I've waited in all day. Just waiting for the postman now, before I head back to the Pole.

Chain reaction.

It's not too far off Christmas, and the deliveries are arriving thick and fast from all my internet purchases. I much prefer to buy online and avoid those late Thursday night sessions where each and every shopping mall is like a scene from "Dawn of the Dead" but with the zombies laden down with plastic carrier bags full of junk that will be broken by Boxing Day or will remain unloved in a cupboard until it finds its way onto eBay or Freecycle.

A knock at the door sends me scurrying around the house collecting various pieces of clothing at random, from the random places that they were discarded in the first place. I say "scurrying" in that, as much as a sufferer of plantar fasciitis, wearing one shoe, can actually scurry. It's generally a mix of tackling stairs sideways, and hopping, and hobbling, and generally trying not to overstretch anything in the heel, calf, or foot.

I arrive at the door, unlock it, open it, and find a postman frantically trying to unjam the parcel that he has already tried to jam through my letterbox, with the added difficulty of the fact that the door is now moving away from him. We exchange pleasantries, as if the postman is actually giving me a parcel (I always find that a strange feeling I have when parcels arrive... as if it's from the deliverer themselves... I guess that would by why the saying "Don't shoot the messenger" came about? - Don't kiss the postman for delivering a parcel that you bought and paid for yourself).

We arrange a suitable "secret" location for the postman to leave subsequent packages in, in the event that I might not be around at some point when he tries to deliver them. He's concerned that he will have to carry parcels around and take them back to the Post Office at the end of his round (ironically, this is his job) but it is a real ball-acher to have to go and collect them, so we give the secret handshake and nudge nudge..... third stone on the left......

I've truckled over the cat banishment issue. If mum, on the other side of the world thinks it might not be suitable treatment, although it was originally suggested by her, then far be it from me to argue. Forget the hours that we (Dawn and I) have spent cleaning and dusting and disinfecting and hoovering and making nice the house for their return, or the fact that we could, instead, have spent those precious few hours that we might have had together to do something more pleasant.

I go to sort out the animals. It would appear that I have lost another chicken. To lose one chicken is unfortunate, but to lose three is downright carelessness. The cats have puked all over the Rayburn again and I dash round feeding them and cleaning up their vomit. As fast as I can, I leave them eating their Felix, and head for home.

A "We have a parcel for you" card is shoved through my letter box from those lovely people at City Link. They are possibly the world's worst couriers, and I rarely EVER receive a hassle free delivery from them. I missed them by about the amount of time it takes to clean up a pile of cat vomit (three minutes to be exact).

I am further frustrated by not being able to speak to a real person and to find out if the van driver is still in my vicinity and whether I could meet him to get the parcel.

A robotic voice on the other end of the phone suggests that they may try to deliver it again tomorrow if the wind is blowing in the right direction, but of course, they can't intimate a time.... that would be far too sensible!!

Chuff a duck.

You sometimes can't win, to the point that you sometimes wonder why you bother.

I am in trouble for locking the cats out.

Despite the fact that this particular act was originally encouraged by my mum, it is, seemingly, now it has been put into action, unacceptable.

For the record, and in my defence, and contrary to the misinformation my mum has received, here are the weather conditions for Huddersfield for the rest of the week:

Tuesday (today) High 12 degrees - Low 12 degrees (cloudy).
Wednesday (tomorrow) High 12 degrees - Low 7 degrees (showers).
Thursday (day after next) High 13 degrees - Low 7 degrees (showers).

After which time, the folks will be back in the country. Admittedly it is set to come a bit cooler on Friday, but still I think you will agree that these temperatures are NOT cold for December, by any stretch of the imagination.

If you can't tell, I'm very annoyed that my mum felt fit to question my judgement and she firmly believes that against all common sense I'd leave the cats out in an arctic blizzard and she'd be returning home to four ice cubes.

All my frustration could have been avoided by a visit here!

If anyone else thinks these temperatures are too cold to leave the cats in a greenhouse then feel free to add to my splendid mood.

Post update update: Vindication came, whilst watching the weather forecast, and it was described as being "exceptionally mild".

Drums please.

Day thirty five. We are in the final week, and to protect our "tidying up" investment, the cats are now banished from the house and consigned to the greenhouses for the rest of the week. Mum can make the decision to reopen the catflap to them when she gets back.

I might actually have a use for the bloody cats at my house.

A trip into the kitchen tonight left me with a churning stomach and the ultimate dilemma. A bloodied and slightly maimed mouse is hobbling about on the floor. There's blood around the upturned mousetrap, and the blood is semi dry. This mouse has been suffering for perhaps an hour or so.

I pick up the dustpan and scoop the blinded broken legged animal into it and take it outside. I put the dustpan down by my garden bench and hop back into the kitchen (I only have one shoe on). I imagine that the mouse will be eaten by something or suffer and die in its own time. It's more than I can take on my conscience.

I put on a walking boot on my left foot (to counterbalance the trainer on my right foot), and grab my stick (I cut and shaped my own big walking stick, which is not dissimilar to a neanderthal club) and head out to where I left the mouse. He is still there, shivering.

I tip the mouse out of the dustpan and bring down the club. I must have winced and closed my eyes, and completely missed!! Second time, I didn't!! His little body arched and twitched and he was gone.

Poor beggar. I feel saddened that I have hurt another animal, but I really don't want them in my house. I also feel sickened at having to finish one of those poor little critters off face-to-face as it were, but I know it was the right thing to do under the circumstance.

With all respect to the mouse and to my sensitive readers, I decided that it was not in good taste to photograph this untidy kill. I did, however, feel it was important for me to share the experience, if only to make someone feel as sick as I did!!

Groan.

Sunday, and I have the mother of all hangovers. I think I qualified for a degree in mixology last night by sampling a range of drinks that certainly should not be within three feet of each other. Every high really does have a corresponding low.

I have struggled to bring you a Sunday search engine selection though, and I hope you jolly well appreciate it. Actually it was quite good fun today, and there were some amusing searches to pick from.

so, without further ado, I give to you..... ten of the best......

Marissa Miller (MSN)
Two people came looking for Marissa Miller this week. I don't even know who she is, or why, for that matter a search engine would turn me up as a possible source of this information. Oh, wait, this is MSN search so it's something to do with Microsoft... that would explain this seemingly random correlation. So, it turns out she's a model, and bang tidy at that!! Go see for yourself!!

jonah barrington squash download (Google)
Yes, it was my favourite ZX Spectrum game. I loved it. Not sure where you can download it from or what platform you require, but here's a link that might help (you will need a Spectrum emulator to play the images you can download). It was published by New Generation and cost the princely sum of seven pounds and ninety five pence!! The game also featured the "voice" of Jonah Barrington through your lovely Spectrum.

hairy women huddersfield (Google)
Yoink!! It takes a braver man than me to pass comment on this one!!

Is chocotate fatal to mice (Google)
Yes, especially when it is placed on my "Lucifer" French mousetrap!! You can see the (be warned sensitive readers) results of chocolate induced death here.

Where the name Arctic Fox come from? (Google)
a) It is a fox.
b) It lives in the Arctic region.

geordie slut getting shagged (Google)
Erm..... try Youtube!! Second thoughts try Shufuni (Don't try shufuni if you're under the age of consent and/or yyou are at work - Be warned it is VERY rude!!).

elvis rubik's cube (Google)
Not sure this exists as a product, but look what I DID find while researching this. Come to think of it, there might be a market for an Elvis Rubik's cube!!

arctic platypus (Google)
You're pulling my leg, surely? someone tell me that this is a joke? There's no such thing, surely?? Am I wrong??

biddendens (Google)
I suggest, if you want to remember your evening, that you stay well away from the Biddendens Dry - Which is a very strong cider, and contrary to its popular name, I found it to be more medium than dry... very pleasant, and possibly only to be drunk as the LAST drink of the night!!

devastatin' dave t-shirt (Google)
Don't say I never give you anything. Here, in all their glory, are the Devastatin' Dave products.

Research.

As part of my "ongoing" gift-wish-list project, I am refining and adding items at a steady rate. The problem I now have, is that each item I add requires so much research.....

Take for instance......

There are a bunch of camera accessories that go neatly with my new camera. Half of them haven't, as of yet, made it anywhere near the shops except in Japan. The ones that I can find on the internet (knowing fully that they won't be stocked in any high street stores for a long time after they appear all over the internet) are so badly listed (i.e. ambiguously, they may or may not be the correct item) and are so bloody overpriced that I feel forced to spend endless hours over-monitoring the situation, so that I may notice when they finally land at a reasonable and affordable price.

And so...... What do I find as some sort of conclusion?

Lens LC55 = £69
Lens LC55 = £29 (If you live in America)

Lens LT55 = £160
Lens LT55 = £83 (if you live in America)

Battery S006a = £45
Battery S006a = £19 (If you live in America)

And so it goes on....... Most frustrating.

What annoys me most about the findings above, is that I am loathed to add these items to my "most wanted" list on the basis that I know that the items could be bought cheaper by someone resident in the US of A than anyone else. I feel like I might be doing any potential benefactors out of pocket somehow. On that basis, I feel I am possibly missing out.

The other piece of research I've been doing concerns my ever painful heel..... Joking apart, we all know it's as well to Google your own illness than it is to hang around in a doctor's waiting room with lots of poorly people and for the GP to Google it on your behalf. I Google.....

It transpires, I think I may well be suffering from plantar fasciitis. It sounds about right, and also sounds pretty bloody annoyingly tricky to deal with. Still not sure whether to go to the doc's armed with this information or not?

Another week.....

... another episode of The Mighty Boosh.

... the chickens retire to their dwelling earlier than ever (somewhere around the four o' clock mark).

... The penultimate day of "I'm a celebrity, get me out of here!" and I haven't even written about it, although I've watched more of it than I'd care to mention or indeed remember.

Most importantly, I am on the evening of the start of the final week of chicken husbandry. The folks return one week tomorrow!! Hen shit, cat puke, cat food, cat hair, feathers, all begin to fade into the distance. The remaining time spent dealing with the animals and multiple residency is now just a bite size chunk.

Thirty one days and counting down... the end is in sight.

Mistake.

It's a mistake. I am writing this blog in the Firefox browser, and I know from cold, hard experience, that not all the usual features are present in this browser that I am accustomed to when using Internet Exploder. I know for example before I even begin, that I will not be able to underline the very title at the top of this blog entry!! Go figure!! So, bear with me, I'll be writing it and then subsequently fine tinkering it in Exploder when it will be bothered to load.

So, I'm sitting here, and the embers of the coal fire are trickling through the grate into the fireplace below. I'm drinking Yorkshire Terrier (no jokes please... it's a beer!!) and debating whether to bank the fire back up to keep the warmth going, or to call it a day and head up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire!! It's a quandary, and now I notice that for some reason Firefox is bloody "spell checking" my typing for me, above and beyond the blogger spell checker. Grrrr.

So, I am sitting here.....

So, I am sitting here, drinking the last bit of Yorkshire Terrier, and the fire is made up and is crackling away merrily behind me. I've been working on a new concept... well a concept that's new to me at least, and it's one which is dear to my heart..... Join me, and (I seem to remember Rol at least having trouble with rubbish gifts from relatives) banish the crap gift syndrome...

I now have a Christmas wish-list. You can view it here, and of course, you may buy any of the items on the list for me, and I won't be forced to speak ill of you behind your back on Boxing Day when your ill conceived gift has gone down like a lead balloon.

I urge everyone to choose their own gifts, and subsequently this should cut down the amount of indiscriminately wasted money on Christmas impulsive useless gift purchasing.

The chickens are in bed. The cats are draped over every piece of furniture that I have not actively knocked them down from. Just a week and a bit left before the folks return and I will be free from my life of servitude.

Time to go wipe down the Rayburn and disinfect some sideboards and tuck the washing up away before I settle down to some Kakuro!

Twenty eight days later.

It's been a fairly busy few days. I've not even had chance to write a half decent blog, and that's very unusual for me. I've normally got time to write a VERY half decent blog!!

So here it is.... my half decent blog.

The chickens are happy. They've been enjoying a relatively mild couple of days. Plenty of opportunity to go rotting round the fields, scratching and scraping and pecking at everything. The days are quite short, with the sun setting at around four in the afternoon, and the SON rising at anywhere between nine and eleven in the morning as he sees fit. They are making the most of the time they get outside.

The cats are not so happy. My mum's soppy cat loving regime is now a distant memory for them. The cats now live by MY rules, except for the puking, which I, unfortunately, cannot control.

The folks, in Australia, are having a good time of it. Lots of beaches... Lots of rain.... and LOTS of insect bites. Sounds like my idea of heaven... NOT! I can't imagine why anyone would actively CHOOSE to be there.

I've been to York!! It was nicer than Australia, because you can get there on a train for a fraction of the cost of a long haul flight. You don't need a passport. You don't need traveller's cheques or currency exchange to get by. You can walk all the way around it, even with a knackered heel, and all in the space of a day, and you can still be home in time for tea. I, on the other hand, chose to have tea in York.

The beer is INFINITELY better in York than anywhere in Australia too. York Brewery's Guzzler and Yorkshire Terrier being two very worthy pints.

Searching....

I've been a little busy over the last few days, and will endeavour to tell you about it as the week goes along, but for now..........

I guess this is getting a little long in the tooth now, but for whatever it is worth, here are some more search terms that brought people in.

who do Arctic foxes communicate with (Google)
Anyone that will sit still for five minutes and listen. In fact, you... right now... reading this.... you're being communicated!!

tom pitchforth (Google)
Haw haw, someone Google'd my cousin... I bet it was him, and he was googling himself!! You're so vain.... I bet you think this blog is about you....

llamatron atari (Google)
Possibly the best game I ever played, written by one of the coolest people ever to have lived. Jeff Minter AKA Yak.... I spent so many hours playing Llamatron, it's obscene. You can find the Yak here. You can even download a lot of the games too. Don't ever say I don't give you anything!!

"chewing ecstasy" (Google)
If you're gonna insist on taking it, then I won't tell you not to. I WILL however tell you that: If you don't chew it, then it will take longer to "come on". Me, personally, when I have taken it, I have ALWAYS chewed it, and I always get ulcers and blisters in my mouth and toothache afterwards, but I am not still winging my nuts off when I get home 'cos it's pretty much all kicked in and there are no late night surprises to be had when that last tab floors you on the train home.

"sky+ default pin" (Google)
I've been there, and I've hung on the phone for a couple of hours to get through to some idiot in a call centre. I've locked myself out a few times, and I've even deleted perfectly good recordings when I couldn't access them because a PIN code was required. I can now reveal, and I've said this before, that the "default" PIN code, is the last four digits of your sky viewing card number!! Job done. PS: If you're a small child looking for this information to access your parent's stash of porn on their Sky+ machine and need the PIN to get in, then you ain't seen me, right?

egears.co.uk (Google)
egears (Google)
egears problems (Google)
www.egears.co.uk (Google)
egears.co.uk review (Google)
"egears.co.uk" shopping experience (Google)
egears uk phone number (Google)
egears + problems (Google)
"www.egears.co.uk" (Google)
who are egears (Google)
egears uk problems (Google)
anyone used www.egears.co.uk (Google)
egears feedback (Google)
EGEARS UK (Google)
who is egears (Google)
who are egears.co.uk (Google)
ordering from egears (Google)
egears blog (Google)
Well, what would my Sunday Searches be without the inclusion of an EGears rant? Believe it or not, these are all search terms that people have used to find my blog. I can only say, that if you are thinking of using EGears, then don't bother. If you've already used them then I suggest you contact them and ask for your money back. You can get the same items from any number of other places, and with a lot less hassle.

susie blackpool (Google)
suzie blackpool (Google)
slutsuzie (Yahoo)
slutsuzie (Google)
suzie of blackpool (Google)
slut suzie blackpool (Google)
Another multiple entry (pardon the obvious pun) for our old friend, the Blackpool Slut that used to have a blog. As far as I know, her blog died a long time ago. I've tried on several occasions to find some way of pointing these people in the right direction, but the best I can do is link to an apparent email address.... this may or may not be correct, but it's the best I can find: slutsuzieuk@hotmail.co.uk

house sitting yorkshire (Google)
Yep, that's me. If you've got cat puke that needs cleaning up or chickens you want to lose, or a house that you'd generally like to be abused and/or neglected while you are away on holiday, then leave me a message and we can work out some sort of deal. Thanks for looking.

giant chicken or fox inflatables (Google)
Well, at first I was just going to regurgitate the old link to the rubber fox suit, but it's not something I would take too much pleasure from. Perhaps you could try looking here... they have some bloody mad stuff.... mebbe amongst the madness you will find the inflatable of your dreams.

effects of cold on laptop (Google)
1) Your fingers may feel cold when typing.
2) Your laptop may be shivering.
3) The laptop may collapse.
4) Your laptop may seem irrational (ignore if Microsoft products are installed).

Twenty four.

I must write something, I know that I oughta,
But these past few days I've just been treading water.
The words won't come because there have been no actions,
No highs and no lows, nor between them no fractions.

Watch The Mighty Boosh.... It's good for your soul.

Short and sweet.

Day twenty three came and went in an unremarkable fashion.

Cats.

Chickens.

A film.

Some television.

Cats

Chickens.

Shopping.

Cooking spicy chickpea and potatoes.

Eating.

Television.

Bath.

Bed.

It's all right there..... I never know which house I will wake up in, but I am usually unsurprised to find it is the same one I went to sleep in!!

Guilty.

Of course, I am guilty as charged. I'm a brat, an ingrate, a miserable, moaning, grumpy, son of a mum.

I knew that my blog yesterday would rain fire upon my own head. I knew that there would not be a single person who would share my frustration. I knew everyone would, in fact, side squarely with my mum over my conduct and lack of enthusiasm at connecting across the water, but this is my blog, and of course, you're going to get my view. It was more important to get the rant "off my chest" than to actually "diss" my mum as the Pudding of Yorkshire would have us believe.

Straws and camels backs make for easy blogging.

Take for instance, the chav with a two bit pimped up ride that insists on waiting for me to get in my car so he can steal my parking space. He rubs salt into the wounds by parking across two spaces, so there is neither space in front, nor behind for another vehicle. I wish painful illness upon him. I feel better for just writing it down!!

Of course I love my mum..... what self respecting Yorkshire born skinhead wouldn't? We've been through a lot together... endless spit washes.... mutually reciprocal hospital visits (is that an oxymoron, or am I just a moron?)... Grazed knees... And unlimited sick buckets of both illness and self inflicted poisoning varieties... And of course, in return, my mum has done quite a bit for me too..... I jest of course!!

As a friend of mine once said... "When I get home I am going to rip my mother's knickers off...." and I can only imagine the stunned silence echoing around my blog is not dissimilar to that which fell upon the scene at that time. I think someone screamed before he continued... "This elastic's killing me!!".

I will leave you with that thought on day twenty two.