Welcome, stay awhile amid its unqualified ramblings. I play at this blogging lark because deep down I’d like to be a bit more creative and write more. I pop on here from time to time to drop the odd published grammatical disaster-piece.
Ten years served under her majesty’s crown as a prison officer, trained from day one, in the art of searching. Searching cells, rooms, open areas. Ten years of active searching, missing stuff, finding stuff, the cat and mouse game of chess, the offender with time on his hands, time to plan, scheme, plot. Then in my last year of service came the dedicated search team, the higher level of prison security search team training, taught by experts that have spent years perfecting their field of expertise. Explosive devices, weapons, adapted weapons, drugs, contraband of every description hidden in all manner of places.
I have searched in cavity’s no man should ever have to look in, searching for things you wouldn’t believe fit into those cavity’s . .
Little did I realise that in retirement from the service, in peace time, on civvie street, in my own home . . . I would need these skills again!
For I have . . . ((a daughter)) . . . and damn it, she is testing my very searching skills to the ends of her Little Tikes premium cooking creations wood kitchen and matching accessories set . . . She’s good damn it, but I won’t be beaten, I’ll find every set of car keys, earrings and mummy’s anti children medication she try’s to conceal up dollies skirts and and in between the pages of the Gruffalo . . I remain unbeaten presently but am unsure of how long this victory will hold, I simply can’t afford to lose, the thought of being stood on my doorway one morning dressed ready for work and suddenly noticing I have no car keys is too much to cope with at 6 in the morning.
Little Tykes, how could you, you’ve basically created an inmates dream, a self contained, concealment paradise without the security bolts and anti tamper head screw tops. The fridge is currently her favourite stash hole, however the microwave and dishwasher have all been used in the past to squirrel away nabbed goodies. I’m already thinking ahead to the possibility’s involved in the matching salt, pepper and spice accessory pots.
I shouldn’t moan of course, this is only the beginning I’m sure, I’ve looked around the room and realised that Little Tykes is just the training ground for the real world. My house is just a big version of all things little tykes. Boys by the way, I can cope with, I have experience of boys, I was one after all. I hid stuff, sometimes not so well. I’m reminded of 10 B&H and a green lighter, oh and a pen Knife I stuck into my bookshelf before being promptly distracted by my mates calling round for me and then running out the door and forgetting all about them. I can still hear my Dad shouting for me out the window, the sudden realisation of what I had done slowly dawning on me, before the long walk back home.
Any one with tips help or advice for the future would be greatly appreciated . . . Prison life just didn’t prepare me for this level of skulduggery!
Ok so tomorrow I start 2015’s detox and diet attempt, I’m not using the word diet in the sense of going on a diet, more just changing my diet. I start off most years with good intentions to get back into training again and eat better, last year, or was it the year before, I forget, I did really well! But as with anything it’s far easier in our modern life to slip back into the old ways. It’s just plain lazy tho, everything bad for us is within easy reach, so when you’re busy it’s just so simple to slip and that’s when you’re back on your old path. The simple truth is that when I was training every day and fit as a dog, I was also knackered and had no life. I need to find that balance this time.
So the plan is a quick week long detox get the crap out of my system, then hit a balance in eating, good days and bad days, loose some weight then get back into some training. I promised myself I wouldn’t enter my 40’s with a massive belly so I’m currently running out of time. It’s basically this year or never. My fear is simple, if I enter my forties like this I’ll never change and I’ll run into all sorts of problems and die young, or never be able to rough house with my kids!
So how do I feel today? Like shit, I’ve eaten like a king all Xmas and new year, drunk loads and basically I have the energy of my children when you ask them to clean their room. If not worse, my children rarely crash on the sofa in the afternoon like I did today and not have the energy to play candy crush, I know, tough times huh!
I’m going to document my journey on my blog this time for two reasons, 1) I wish to blog more and this may force my hand and 2) I think writing down how crap I feel today and in general will remind me that when I’m feeling amazing on my new diet, I must not to give up and I must remember back to this day.
So Chaz of the future, hello, I speak to you with a desire to remind you of just how ill you have been December and in fact November 2014! You have had a cold on and off for the past two months . . You have dipped in and out of man flu status . . . You have struggled to maintain focus on nearly everything you have wanted to do. You have been borderline dead from the eyebrows down for the last three or four months, that coupled with the odd attack of depression and poppy running around with the energy of a small little league football team, it’s been hell, and quite frankly boring. Your skin is horrible, your guts are rotten, your gums constantly hurt and or bleed, your knees can’t take it no more, you’re basically nutrient lacking on every level except crap that you shovel in at a rate of knots. So no matter how hard it is, no matter how boring that shake is or that kale tastes stick to it for five days a week at least, for me old pal, just for me! Forty is coming, even faster for you because you are nearer than me, so this is it! No going back!
When a friend was hospitalized for appendicitis, people flocked to visit him at the hospital. When I was clinically depressed, some who knew it avoided me like the plague. But I completely understand — it’s natural for us to be afraid of the unfamiliar, including unfamiliar illnesses. And when it comes to depression, people are wary […]
So I don’t usually moan, I’m your “it is what it is kind of guy” in fact I’m your it is what it is but how does it work and what’s the engineering involved in it kinda guy . . . . . But!
This year, I’ve been lucky enough to travel out to Las Vegas to get married. Whilst out there I did of course have the need to visit the odd public loo, or “Restroom” as they seemed to be called in america. Not sure why, I did not feel the need to take a rest in one. Now, I’m not singling out the US because more and more in the UK we find automation. Taps, hand dryer’s, flusher’s etc etc. But they did seem to be on everything out there.
Now I totally understand, especially in a public restroom’s why the need for less people to share is a priority. Some of the bogs I’ve been into in my time you need to wipe your feet on the way out. I’m reminded of the toilet in trainspotting as I type this.
But here’s the thing, this automation, it has to work and It has to work well, and it has to work first time. I found myself flapping, waving, jumping up and down, you name it I tried it. As a bloke in the loo there is a certain protocol involved in going for a wee wee. You get in, you don’t talk to anyone, you get out! So to be forced to stand at a sink waving your hands back and forth in order to try and get water out or soap or some air to dry your hands is not ideal. You wave your hand water comes on, you go to wash your hands the water goes off, wave hands, nothing . . . . go to turn away water comes on. Arrrrggggghhhhhhhhh. I still prefer the idea of automation in toilets it just needs to work please.
Stunning backdrop and a stunning lady, fab day all round. A place and day I will always take myself to in times of strife and reflection.