Dotty

I don't use the site much these days for personal stuff.  Please forgive the indulgence.

She was three months old when she arrived from the guinea pig rescue centre (don't ask) in mid August 1996.  Her ears looked too big for head and her tail looked like it probably belonged to a badger but I was immediately smitten.

Dotty was wilful from the word go, never quite getting that the bedroom was off limits or that kitchen work surfaces were no place for a cat.  She did her best to ruin the rented flat in Walthamstow, pulling small strips of wallpaper off wherever she could get some purchase.  She also brought the flat to life and became, very swiftly a huge part of my life.  There was one notable day in those early years when she went missing.  We were crestfallen we'd lost her.  Eventually she was found trapped in a lock up.  A borrowed sledge hammer and a smashed steel door later and she was free.  If anything it just cemented how much she meant to me.  Those who know me will be aware that a sledge hammer and I are not a natural mix.

She was a character throughout her 16 years and she never changed in disposition.  Always talkative, even after she lost her hearing, she liked to be heard and very much liked to be listened to.  She wasn't much for adventure, rarely straying beyond the back garden once I moved to Southampton.  If she got bored of being outside she would, up until recently, move to the front of the house and bang on the front door to be let in.  Proper banging.  So much so that the metal skirt at the bottom of the door ended up losing one of its screws and will always hang at a slightly odd angle as a result.

There wasn't a mean bone in her body, she never once turned on me.

As she grew up she grew prettier and learnt how to play on it to get what she wanted.  She hated me having a girlfriend, often trying to sit between us on the sofa or lay on pillows.  It sounds odd but the last six months I'm glad she got my undivided attention.  I think I owed her that after the 16 years she gave me.

People will say, "She was just a cat."  I get that and I can't deny that the recent stroke my stepdad has had helps to put losing Dotty into some sort of perspective.  However it doesn't devalue how much she gave me and brought to this house and the flat in London.  I think the biggest compliment I can give her is that I never really thought of her as a pet.  She was my friend.

The last three weeks had been tough, watching her deteriorate, seemingly pick up and then really go down hill on Friday.  I'm pleased she lost her fight at home, while I was there to comfort her.  Yesterday was hard, but I am incredibly grateful to have had her in my life she was an absolute pleasure to have known and I will miss her terribly.

We all know when we get a pet that this is part of the deal.  It feels like a shit deal right now but I'm glad I made it 16 years ago.  A part of me will never really let her go anyway.

Goodnight x

Rest in peace now lovely girl x

Faster. Higher. Stronger.

I didn't go to the Olympic park, or any of the other venues.  I haven't held the Olympic Torch, nor do I have anyone remotely close to me competing in the games.  And yet, despite my distance to it all, I have never been so moved or so personally inspired, by ordinary people doing extraordinary things for their country.  For us.

Never Forget

2011

In a year of news, a year of unrelenting change, two stories, both personal, although one more public than another, intertwined.  The King returned to Anfield and although it may seem trite in a year that saw so much change around the globe, seeing him lead the side out at Anfield felt like a step back to a time when things were simpler.  When Liverpool's result defined a week rather than my actual life.  It came at the right time, that jolt back to the past.

There are lots of positives to focus on, lots of things I could talk about that, on reflection, would make the year sound like a good one.  2011 is forever tainted by the second story but it's not in my gift to tell you why.  In a lot of ways that awfulness has fuelled the positive: the giving up of the ciggies, the savings account, the photography and of course Tweetathon.  Obviously there have been good times this year, Bestival and Festival were both brilliant weekends and Twitterpubnic was a great, great day.  It just doesn't feel right to dwell on them.

Happy Christmas

New York

And love won't play any games with you

                                               Anymore if you want 'em to

So we better shake this old thing out the door

I'll always be thinkin' of you

I'll always love you though New York

I'll always love you though New York, New York, New York 

RIP Oscar

Today my sister and family said goodbye to Oscar there beloved family dog.  RIP mate.

Glastonbury '94

Firstly, how the fuck is it seventeen years since I went to Glastonbury?  I work with people who are seventeen.  Fuck.

I went with two friends from the Island and we saw Oasis and Pulp before they were big and Blur on the cusp of releasing Park Life.

We also met a man called Die.

We'd arrived on the Thursday evening and first thing Friday, after failing miserably to get drunk on what turned out to be apple juice, we headed into a local town to buy beer.  We purchased the beer and then needed to head back to the site and were offered a lift by a kindly fellow attendee.  Unfortunately he had also offered a lift to a massive Welshman.  His name was Die.  I guess it's probably spelt 'Dye' or 'Deye' or 'Dia' or some other Welsh way such as 'Dieyeeey', but for me he will always be 'Die'.  I was sat in the back of what may have been a Fiat Punto, with Die next to me chatting about how he was going to get into the site.  He was a ticketless Welsh  skinhead giant and we were three kids with wrist bands and beer.

He took some of our beer in the car.

All the way back to Glastonbury he asked if we'd seen gaps in the fences, what the security was like etc and he remained fucking massive.  The kindly person who'd given us the lift, who I have no recollection of, dropped us at one of the entrances and it was then that it happened.

You know how people tell you things happen in slow motion?  It's bollocks.  Things happen really fucking fast.

Die went for my wrist band.

I got lucky and his giant fingers failed to take a proper grip and my wrist band hand was in my pocket before either of us could blink.  I knew he'd tried to take it, he knew he'd tried to take it, my companions had failed to notice.  Fuck.

The next two minutes were two of the most awkward of my life.  I think I eventually said.... 'Right, I think we're gonna go back in,' and wandered off to the queue as my mates chatted amiably with him about how much he hated England.  For a bit he followed us and I remember whispering to one of my mates something like, 'The giant terrifying skinhead nutter Welshman, called Die, just tried to steal my wristband,' and we hastened our steps.  Eventually, as we got nearer the security guards, he gave up and left us.

Which might be quite a boring end to the story, but out of all the things that happened that brilliant weekend it's the thing that I remember the most.  Thanks for that Die.

I realise many of you will want to tell me how to correctly spell Die.  Please refrain.

And yes, that is a 'James Suck' T-Shirt.

Four by the Twelfth: An Update

As my week and a half draws to a close and with the final episode of A Game of Thrones due to air tonight I thought I'd give you a little update on where I am in my 'quest' to re-read all of A Song of Ice and Fire before the 12th July.

I'm deep into A Feast for Crows and will have comfortably nailed it by the aforementioned date.  I'd forgotten how meandering and at times down right plodding book four is, with almost none of the violence and heartbreak of A Storm of Swords.

My week off may have begun with Isle of Wight Festival but the last two days of it have been primarily focused on reading and drinking.  Lovely.  But tonight I'll be sat watching the final episode of the TV show, hoping that the crucial last five minutes aren't a fuck up.  A lot depends on those closing moments, believe me.  Get them right and you'll have an audience hungry for A Clash of Kings, fuck it up though and there will be a whole lot of online bitching.  Mostly from me.

Whatever happens tonight the first three books have been an absolute joy to plough through again.  Their density perpetuated with spikes of wonderful evil and more double crossing than I could keep count of (and I can count really high) has been impossible to put down.

Book four has its flaws with the introduction of new characters in an already well populated story and at times it's hard to care for them.  It lacks some of the really big players too and loses some of the forward motion because of that.  You start to fear for Martin as he tries to bring all this together in the final two books once we've had the other half of A Feast for Crows in A Dance With Dragons later this summer.   It's still a cracking book though and come July we go back to The Wall.

Winter is coming.

6 and a Half Weeks

I'm still not smoking.  Miraculous.

Festival was always going to be a test with my BIL smoking next to me but I kept popping the lozenges and drinking my beer and once I was drunk (everyday) I forgot about inhaling my nicotine.  The odd waft of weed on the breeze made me pine a little, but that was it.

How am I feeling?

Pretty good.

My lungs are still clearing, I still get the odd coughing fit, but they seem to have started healing and my brain feels sharper.  Which seems weird.  I can't remember that happening during previous giving up attempts but I think that has more to do with me doing it for me rather than to impress/piss someone else off.  This time I have money to show for it too.  That's a big step up from four years ago when I was still pissing it up the wall on some girl or other.  I dipped into the savings a bit for Festival but not all of it and the thought of some sort of treat down the road is much more of an incentive than it has been previously.  An iPad?  Maybe, although I'm loathe to put my lovely MacBook in the shade so early, so who knows.

The long and short of it is that I haven't smoked though.  I'll reduce my lozenges to the 1mg ones later this week, give it another two months and start having extra strong mints in their place.  But to be honest if I remain addicted to the lozenges that's a fuck load better than smoking.

Four by the Twelfth

Four years ago I read five books in around five months.  George RR Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' opus consumed me utterly.  I lived and breathed the books by day and dreamt of them at night.  On the 12th July the next in the series is released and because four years have passed I thought it best to refresh my memory.

It was a little odd reading A Game of Thrones as the TV series began on television but moving on to a Clash of Kings has been a joy.  It's the depth of the world that Martin's created that never fails to amaze and his fearlessness in taking a major character off of the board (with a violent beheading...).  It's graphic, far more so than the TV series which has shocked a few in itself and dark.  Very dark.

The mission then is to nail at least four of the books by the 12th July.  The fifth can wait as it's at that point that Martin was forced to split the timeline in two.  The new book will be set in exactly the same period as the last but be focusing on the characters that weren't included.  Which means that in some respects we still have a very long wait to see what happens to the characters from A Feast for Crows but then that didn't have at least three of the big players in it.

Between gaming, going to the cinema and writing for here, not to mention working and tweeting, life is feeling pretty crammed.  But the reading thing is great for the not smoking thing and at the moment that's pretty crucial.  If I can get to the end of A Storm of Swords (books three, split into two books) that will mean that I'll be in middle of July with over ten weeks of not smoking behind me and a new book by my favourite author in my hand.

Lovely.

Two Weeks. No Smokes

All I really seem to be missing at the moment are those five minutes of peace at work.  Standing outside and shutting off from everyone that exists outside of my iPhone can be quite a cool thing when accompanied by a cigarette.  Without them I'd just be some bloke on a roof with a phone.

The lozenges are negating the cravings amd although I think I may be on them for a while, the plan is to cut the dose down to 1mg rather than 2mg after the Isle of Wight Festival.  Which, when I've used them in the past, I've not done.  Festival will be a massive will power test in itself but I'm more determined than I've ever been to not cave.

I've been more active than I can remember being in about four years.  My house is positively gleaming and even the garden looks reasonably respectable.

The money saved is scary.  Really scary.  So far, according to the NHS iPhone App, I've saved £121.26.  Even if you take out the forty quid I've spent on the lozenges that's still over £80.  Mental.  What the fuck was I thinking?

Setting up internet banking before hand (I know, I was late to the party on that one) was a good idea too.  I can see that I still have cash, where as usually a week before pay day, I'm starting to think about which game I need to sell rather than thinking I might have some left over to stick in the savings account.

And it's good for the site.  My Cineworld pass, which I got back in April because I knew giving up was coming and was therefore affordable, means that there will be more film reviews.  I can afford more games, so there will be more game reviews.  I can afford more gigs, so if I get my arse in gear more band reviews.  Basically it's just good all round.

I might miss those five minutes, but I don't miss the smoking roof.

Here we go again...

I gave up smoking on the 1st of May and whilst I've done it before I've not attempted it since I've been on Twitter and therefore not since I've had this site.

I figure one post a week about how I'm doing is enough.  The last time I gave up was around four years ago after dipping in and out of smoking for around six years.  Then, as now, I used Nicotine Lozenges to help with the cravings.  I'm trying to change my routine a bit to deal with the ciggy moments.  Of which there are many.

So far though it's not been too bad.  The first two days I was on the Isle of Wight visiting family and so wasn't in my normal environment, although I was with a smoker for most of that time.  The first few hours at work today were hard though.  My usual routine goes like this.

Wake up: ciggy out of bedroom window

Get up make a cup of tea: ciggy out of back door

Go to bus stop: ciggy waiting for bus

Get to work have cup of tea: ciggy on smoking roof

Work until 10am: have ciggy

Finish tea break: have ciggy

Yikes.

Today none of the ciggies happened.  My routine stayed pretty much the same I just didn't smoke.  I've had seven 2mg lozenges which compared to my usual nicotine intake is hardly anything and although I came home and cleaned like a nutter on speed I seem to be doing alright so far.  No one is dead yet at any rate.

Never Forget

At 3:06pm on the 15th April 1989 the FA Cup Semi Final between Liverpool and Nottingham Forest at Hillsborough was stopped.  Never forget.

Something You Might Have Missed

I set up a tumblr, not to spout more rubbish, but to share pictures from the new camera that have been played around with in Aperture.  The site is fairly functional, no twitter feed, no facebook links etc but it is posting to twitter and facebook when pictures upload.

Any feedback on pictures appreciated, I'm learning as I go at the moment.

Click on the image above to go to the new site.

The Last Day

Day 17 of my break from work, tomorrow I return to the rat race.  I was gonna blather on about how ace my two and a bit weeks has been but the above picture kind of sums it up.

Spring sprung.  Etc etc.  Thanks fuck I bought that camera though, cause otherwise you'd never have know.

Lego Sand Wars - The Mummy Returns

My nephew made this, bless his heart.

I'm pretty sure that's @lastmanstood providing some of the voices too.

Q: And Life

For around two years I have not bought Q magazine.  Then today, with Grohl gurning on the cover I got  tempted.  It's four quid now, thinner, smaller, but still essentially the same magazine it was when I started buying it over twenty years ago.  There's a pile next to my bed as tall as some people of Q mags.  It's better than a pile of porn I guess.

Magazines used to be everywhere in my house, by the bed, in the bathroom and the lounge, well that was like a fricking library.  Friends used to come round and between their turn beating me on ProEvo they'd be leafing through Games TM, Edge, Q or the NME.  Now, there's maybe one mag in the house and I don't buy any every month.

Buying Q today was kind of evocative.  It, along with NME (which I kind of saw as it's unruly kid brother) used to be my bible.  The net has played its part in changing that, but I don't log into their website to read reviews etc, I get them from 'real' people on Twitter.  Blog posts, throwaway 140 tweets about an album or a song, life has, for better or worse changed.  But it was nice today to curl up on the sofa with a magazine and just read about bands for a while.  Q were always good at not giving into the 'success = wanker' thing, turns out they still are.  Good.

My waking life is spent connected to the net.  Even when I'm asleep the iPhone stays connected, Boxcar racking up the overnight tweets and my mail accounts, both personal and project related receiving mail.  It's not often I don't wake up to one update or another, even if it's just to say it's my turn on WWF.  Even three years ago the PC lived upstairs, my phone was incapable of a Facebook update, only my PS3 saw me regularly connecting online with what could be described as 'strangers'.  And to be fair those strangers were mainly just shooting me.  A lot.  Facebook wasn't anything other than a way of interacting with colleagues and friends back then, but now it's more of an extension of Twitter.

So what did Q do for me today?  Well it stopped me tweeting for a couple of hours.

Then I tweeted about buying it...

38

So rather than get all sentimental about turning 38 here's a pic of my best present (cheers Gill) and a video with a cute cat in.