don't forget to play your april fool jokes on people an hour later tomorrow.

i think the expression 'growing pains' is an old fashioned one.
i seem to remember it being used an excuse for everything from delinquent behaviour (for example, me telling a very conservative neighbour to f off) to teenage disease (for example, thick glasses, greasy hair and acne ... yes, that's me again).

but now, i think everyone over the age of about 12 should be called a growing pain.
what happens to kids that turns them from lovely, cuddly, playful things into pale, morose, broody, moody, and boring?

this ramble stems from meeting up with two of my many nieces at the weekend - one, just reaching her tenth birthday and still just about my bundle of joy;  the other, 13, and obviously a growing pain on legs.

to cut a VERY long weekend short, what i want to know is, if every kid has growing pains -
WHY CAN'T SOMEONE GIVE THEM TABLETS FOR IT?!

i think two is about right.

 your nominations please for best actor in the world ever, and best actress in the world ever.

it can be stage, tv or film.

the prize is a night out with that person, subject to the not very small print of me being able to get in touch with them at any stage in the next millennium.

the day of the doughnuts ....

waiting an hour for my appointment at the hospital today gave me plenty of time to observe.
it took me back to the days when i was a regular on the london underground.

faces set and still, eyes averted, giving the appearance of great interest in a speck of dirt on the floor.
doctors and nurses happy and bright and doing a great job of customer service - let down only by the fact that they were running an hour late.

so many people with so many ailments ... disfigured faces, distorted limbs ...
waiting silently for their five minutes with the consultant before their bulging case file is put back on the shelf.

people who endure and live their lives carrying such heavy burdens are the real heroes.
but you never see them in the new years honours list do you?

would it be fair to say that Friar Tuck was a chip monk?

or not ...

ok...

not.

food and sofas were the big issues today.
it wasn't so much a case of have you enjoyed the weekend as how much did you eat.
and after only a few moments, it was clear that the girls - all of whom are members of weightwatchers - had been scoffing for england.... easter eggs, steaks, puddings, chocolates, chocolates, chocolates ...

then, just when there was a lull in the conversation, one of them mentioned she also looked at new sofas.
well!
that was it!
they crowded round the computer to look on a website at the sofa she was getting.
then enjoyed a detailed discussion about colour schemes.

now i know why retailers choose to call fabric shades things like mocha, chocolate, latte, coffee cream.

but why not go the whole hog and offer 'chip buttie' or 'ham and eggs' as interior design themes.

i know a few people at work who might go for it.

oh no.
i have a wobbly front tooth.
if it falls out, this lovely white rectangle will be replaced by a black one.
my eating efficiency will be impaired.
though i suppose drink will go down quicker, perhaps.

i think i'll ask the old lady next door if she'll knit me a harness for it with a bit of elastic so i can strap it round the top of my head.
that ought to hold it in place.

i'd look ridiculous if that tooth fell out.

a new survey reveals that british teenagers are spending an average of twenty hours a week online, often into the early hours.

the dog is walked and snoozing in the kitchen after the exertion of investigating every molehill in sight.

right.
i make it about twenty five minutes before this day is over.

so what are you going to do with the time?

do families exist just to make us feel guilty or do they serve some other purpose?

i was interested to read that user numbers on sites like facebook and myspace are dropping rapidly.
others have commented here that visitor numbers are generally going down.

so if anyone offers you a blog site to buy, keep your money in your pocket.

if you have any spare pennies, i'd advise you to invest in anything to do with pets.

blogging is fun and can be therapeutic.
but these virtual chat rooms are no replacement for walking the dog.

maybe that's it!
bloggers are buying dogs and discovering a different life?

my vote would always be for ...

there was an expression my mum used to use.
when people said it was time to slow down and give up work, she'd say - 'and what are we going to live on? fresh air?'

well after walking the dog twice in a sharp cold northern wind that's been spiced up with a swoop over the sea to suck up even more ozone, i've decided mum was wrong.

maybe we would all be better off if we gave up work a few years early and concentrated on getting fresh air.

anyway, got to go now - there's a terrible draught from my window ...

just taking a look round my desk, if you're interested.

i don't know why i've got an unopened box of Otex Ear Drops next to my keyboard.

but mainly, i've noticed i have a lot of free CDs off the front of magazines i wouldn't normally buy.
they're full of programs i've never even opened.
i probably spent five minutes maximum flicking through the magazine before recycling it or using it to light the woodburner.
not a great investment, then.

i'm quite annoyed with myself for being such a sucker.

ah well, waste not, want not - may as well use the ear drops, which i presume are the treatment you need after a face lift.

the sign said there was a neolithic mortuary over there.

well i can't see it.

it should be just about here.

maybe it's that mound there.

but there are lots of mounds up here.

how are we supposed to know?

well i'd know which one it was if they put a cafe next to it.

this is all owned by the national trust.  they usually put signs on everything.

ah.  maybe they don't want people to find it and walk all over it.

right.  but they marked it on this big display board, though.

they probably deliberately put it in the wrong place.

the tea room is clearly marked.

let's hope that's in the right place.  come on ....

news that anthony minghella died so young reminds us all that it can all end so quickly.

i'm sure someone will have written endlessly long jokes about this, but here are my thoughts on the subject of how age creeps up on you.

well i finally got to meet the woman on the phone - as mentioned a few posts ago.

my guess was pretty accurate.

she looked not unlike that puppet that talks funny in star wars.
you know, the old wise one that gets words in the wrong order...
'ridiculous, this is."

she was quite small, but not quite as small as a garden gnome.
and she wasn't carrying a fishing rod.

i did ask her whether she had recently sucked a lemon but got no answer.
how rude is that?

anyway, i've had several phone calls from other people since then, so i've moved on.
the last one was pretty interesting.

i reckon he wears a grubby mac and thick glasses, and always has his hands in his pockets (except when
he's talking on the phone to me, of course).

i do hope video phones don't take over. it will spoil my fun.

i'm a big fan of raymond chandler.

so i was leaning back in relaxed smooth james bond style, one hand on the steering wheel, the other
on my gear stick, driving home from work.

and i started thinking -
wouldn't it be nice if you could use clever computers to put yourself into classic movies?

then i wondered which ones i'd want to be in.

i think i'd like to take the place of harrison ford in 'the fugitive', for one.
i'd also kick trevor howard out of the waiting room so i could be in 'brief encounter'.
maybe also the role of keanu reeves in 'the matrix' series.

what about you?!

nosology  

1. The branch of medical science that deals with classification of
diseases.

2. A systematic classification or list of diseases.

do you ever try to picture someone from their voice as you talk on the phone?

the saddest thing i heard this weekend was from a female friend, one year away from her 50th birthday.
i always ask awkward and personal questions - i can't help it.
so i asked her if she was going to take early retirement.
she is a fairly senior manager, with an equally well paid husband.
she said she wouldn't know what to do with her life if she stopped work.

i tried to explain that there is a whole world out there.
new things to do.
journeys.
experiences.
cakes.
repeats of countdown.

by the end of my speech, i was as exhausted as britney spears' counsellor.

but it was all to no avail.

ah well.
work tomorrow.

Have you ever noticed that birds and animals always keep a safety zone around them.

I think the way people walk says a lot about them.

And another thing ...

why did all the jammie dodgers go first?

what is wrong with shortbread biscuits all of a sudden?

I don't want sympathy, but I am definitely in shock after three days in a row working in an office, instead of tapping away in my home office.
I've had to put up with

• endless discussions about the merits of different sorts of biscuits
• endless discussions about weight loss
• eternal complaints about how busy everyone is (how have they got time?)
• bedsores, or equivalent, from sitting in a mouldy uncomfortable office chair that was probably an MFI reject
• too many cups of tea and coffee
• AND - i've got to go back for more tomorrow!

still, at least i don't have to travel by bus.

You don't get long to make a decision these days, particularly when you're driving, or walking in a busy street.

Driving home after a manic day, I took a slight detour to avoid the main road and toddled serenely through a quiet village or two.
Quiet for me, no doubt, but I expect the net curtains were twitching as I rattled past in a cloud of diesel fumes.

I'm glad I did.
There was a neatly written sign at the roadside.

It said:

FRENCH NITE
Thursday night: 7.30pm
xxxx Literary Society

French nite!
Zut alors.

I wonder what they do at these little literary soirees?
Do readings from 'Allo Allo' perhaps?

It was national health service with a smile for me today.
I went for a blood test and the nurse told me to squeeze a rubber duck she handed me - then grinned and added "If you have the strength."
I laughed gaily, squeezed and watched with pride as the veins in my arm bulged.
Then chinned her.

Next stop was the hospital for a couple of X rays.
Nurse aimed the machine at my stomach and said "Hold your breath".
Then she ran off while the death rays scythed through me.

Then she came back and lowered the machine to my - er - groin area (pelvis actually).
I said: "Do you want me to hold my breath again?"
She said: "No, don't worry.  There's nothing down there that's going to move around much."

I thought of several suitable replies once I'd got back to the car, but it was obviously too late by then.

I have always had the feeling that the world would be a better place if we all got more fresh air.

I only know it always makes me feel better.

Like today.
I got back from walking the dog in gale force winds and feel like I've overdosed on the stuff.

Maybe it's time they made fresh air breaks compulsory at work.

Seems only fair - after all you can have a tea break or a fag break.

That's it.
I'm going to open my window a bit now.

What's the best last drink before you go to bed?

I don't know which new blog group to join...
bondage, or bereavement?

Both?

Maybe we need a few more groups beginning with B, such as ...

Bookmarks.
Biros.
Bottle openers.
Badgers.