Not The Bees

Hey, it seems I sort of forgot to touch my blog for about six months. I am finally bowing to public pressure, having recieved over 3 requests (4 requests) to update it.

Much has happened since last time, and unfortunately a great deal of it has been shite. One particular bit of it is so shite that to write about it in a trifling blog would rather cheapen and denigrate it, so I won't. As for the other shite stuff, I will give only a brief rundown:

- This was the illest Christmas ever, and I don't mean ill in the good, hip-hop sort of way. I mean everyone was ill with a debilitating flu virus that had most of my family nigh incapacitated for over a fortnight. It was Christmas' number 1 unwanted gift, and nobody had thought to keep the receipt.

- Slightly before New Year's, I got collared by a deeply unpleasant London Midland Railways employee at Birmingham, as I had erroneously secured a slight discount using my Young Person's Railcard, which, unbeknownst to me, had expired. This resulted in him taking me to one side, reading me my rights (he was under the delusion that he was a police officer) and proceeding to detain me for 45 minutes under "official caution", during which time he all but accused me of grand larceny, attempted murder, and cyber bullying. Anyway, for 'defrauding' (his words) the company of, oh, £3, they may take me to court, which would surely cost them more than £3, but what the hell, if they want to waste their money on bullshit, I am happy to help them. Hell, I could work as an advisor for them, I know all about wasting money on bullshit!

- So I finish reading Making Money, then literally right afterwards, I look at the news and Terry Pratchett has fucking Altzheimer's. It's been caught very early and he seems very upbeat about it, so I will be angry in his stead: Shit fucking fuck bastard cock Wankel Rotary Engine. Why him? Why not Dan Brown?

Anyway, that's all I care to go into. Good stuff has happened also, however. Recend goodnesses that spring to mind include taking Claudia out for face-stuffing purposes at Greenwich's famed celebrity nightspot, Noodle Time. Later we went to the market and I bought a monocle from a retro shop, for the princely sum of £1.50. It goes well with the pith helmet I got for Chrimbo, but really it needs a top hat and a devilish moustache to properly set it off. And in about 60 years' time, I will totally be able to pass for Patrick Moore, which will be brilliant, because I love that guy. He's only slightly younger than some of the stars he snoops at in his DIY observatory, and yet he manages to also maintain Hitchcockian levels of fat-blokeness. My personal theory is that his sizable gravity well (mouth) draws matter (cheeseburgers) towards him, thus adding to his overall mass. No getting wizened for our Patrick, he's far too super-massive.

Another good thing was that I worked a few days for my company at the Toy Fair in the Excel Centre, demonstrating various new games to potential buyers, which means extra moolah to inevitably waste on the awesome things I saw there, when they appear in shops. Among such things were new Airfix planes (I had an awesome, cosmically nerdy chat with one of the original company guys, still kickin' it after, oh, about 50 years), and... Indiana Jones Lego.

God DAMN that company. Every time I stash my Lego junk in the loft and fool myself that I've outgrown it, the bastards release some new, insanely awesome thing that I am morally obliged to own. There were a number of sets, all with fairly generic non-specific names, although they each clearly depict a particular Bit from the films. For instance, one, called "The Lost Treasure", nonetheless certainly seems to feature Indy and Sallah, in an underground temple, Raiding a distinctly Ark-shaped object, which had perhaps been Lost for some time. Another one features the desert truck chase, complete with honest-to-god LEGO NAZIS. Of course they are euphemistically described as "guards" but basically what you get is cutesy little figurines of Hitler's dreaded Afrika Korps, replete with a machinegun-armed Volkswagen. Totally metal. There's also the bike chase from Last Crusade, featuring the Jones boys and a dandy sidecar motorcycle for them to tool about in. Neet!

My company sells educational games and trad games such as chess and backgammon, so we generally tend to attract slightly... odd people. None so odd as the inbred-looking couple who came onto our stall, announced that they have a shop that sells nothing but chess sets, then proceeded to shoot down our every attempt to show them our chess sets with a childish chorus of "BORING". This eventually culminated in us offering them a catalogue, which the husband took, then announced "if you can only afford one catalogue, I'm afraid it's goodbye" upon which the pair of them stormed off as if we'd spat in their soup at our fancy restaurant. Like I said, odd people.

Also myself, Claudia, and The Arnolds© are soon to be going on a fabulous getaway to sunny Brighton for a couple of days, as a joint birthday venture for Claudia and Gillia. N. We will wander around the intriguing Lanes, visit that bizarre onion-topped fake mosque thing, and dine in our hotel's excellently Graf Zeppelin-looking dining room. And of course there's always the chance of an ambush by the Internet's Tetsujin "Steven" Griffo, who lives there. In Brighton, not in the dining room. Although maybe.

Anyway, I have to go now because I must get my head down, and also my keyboard has run out of letters. Hopefully the next update is less than six months away, and will be generally more coherent.

Hurr.