2012 - 63b

Dog Days

I neglected my usual Saturday programme to sit in the garden, with my book, and do nothing for best part of the day. The first weekend after the return to school is being what it should be, a time of uber-relaxation. Takeaway on Friday (after shopping), nibbles (from Akshar) and salad yesterday and most of today's dinner has already been prepared. My main priority was to do very little and soak up the last rays of summer sun (because, unremarkably, the forecast now appears to be dreadfully British rather than ironically Indian). This is why I'm here now, at just after 9.00am, getting the bulk of this down before I resume yesterday's exertions.

It has to be noted that the other reason for my reluctance to write anything for 2012 - 63 was also down to a lack of motivation. My first week back at work (and 1 of 8 - the longest ½term of the lot) has been a mixture of brilliant, positive and fucking exhausting. My job has indeed changed, but now it appears to be right back up my street, giving me the opportunity to do what I'm best at - talking, listening and offering sensible, human, advice while explaining in a less than aggressive way what the consequences will be. My style of irreverent ambivalence and laid back reasoning is actually quite difficult to argue with (but a couple did on Friday and discovered what happens when Style A doesn't prove to be as convincing as it usually is. Style B is far more disciplined, with added 'Told You So' rubbed into the wounds like salt). One thing the kids at my school have been reminded of this week - as brilliant as most of the kids think I am, don't piss me off.

However, the new role is bloody exhausting. I must have walked 10 miles yesterday (I might get a pedometer just to see how far I do walk) and the standing around played havoc on my back and it's been grumbling quite vociferously since about 1pm on Friday. The Celecoxib have been broken out - those mega-brill painkiller/NSAIDs, which cost about £20 each and I'm only to use when it's that bad, got to the pain almost straight away allowing me to be incredibly athletic in the bedroom last night, in a sentence that is probably causing most of you to be saying TMI. Those of you with long memories of the bollocks I've written for the last few years will remember that Celecoxib's side effects are simple - wind leading to really stinky farts...

Ironically, there might not have been much from me about my week, but I did have lots of inspiration. The sad part was after 6 weeks of holiday routine, it's taken me longer than expected to get back into the work routine and all the trimmings (like making notes about things I want to talk about in the blog). That said I do have some notes and we will get to then at some point...

The Political Bits

Lots of notes about politics. Jeremy Hunt getting promoted to Health must surely have raised some eyebrows, even amongst Tory voters. Cameron really does like his twats. Which brings us nicely to Grant Shapps - Tory party co-chairman, poster boy for the right and a man with less qualifications than me! He is an Internet maestro who has been blacklisted by Google; writes under pseudonyms and most importantly comes across as a sort of Tony Blair kind of guy, which is why the Tories have him.

The cabinet reshuffle was laughable and again makes me wonder if floating voters with any interest in politics are paying attention to how inept the government is and how the changes made kind of scream of the football manager languishing in the relegation mire who is too frightened to change his team of 'stars'. The Tories remind me of one team in particular (and I really do apologise to supporters of this team because most of the people I know who support this team are pure socialists); West Ham. A pretty average team that occasionally gets it better than right, but more often screws up, leaving the next generation to repeat the sequence all over again.

The funniest story (and one that stayed top of the news for as long as it took people to realise the futility of it) of the week was the Office of Fair Trade's investigation into fuel prices. This almost had me choke on my dinner for the simple reason that even if the OFT found fuel prices to be ludicrously high (as most consumers do), the government (who I think are responsible for about 90% of the price) aren't going to say, "Tell you what, we'll cut 70% of the duty we put on fuel, make it fairer and in line with most other European countries," are they?

I think the BBC were quick to realise that it was possibly the biggest non-story of the year so far.

Wibble

I'm going to regret saying this, but I fancy Andy Murray's chances in Monday's US Open final, whoever he has to play.

I tried to find a cartoonist to draw a picture for me based on an old cartoon I once had. I got really frustrated that despite knowing so many artists, I couldn't get one of them to draw a single panelled picture, albeit for free, for me. Then I realised I still had the original; the problem, however, is just where it is. It might be in the loft. It might be in the cupboard behind my back which we kind of cleared out a few weeks ago and put the two possible boxes it might be in at the back of said cupboard and then put tons of other junk in front. Or it might possibly be in two or three other places, but only if it isn't in either of the first two. If I find it, I shall scan it and display it on here. I think it is possibly one of the funniest single panel cartoons you will ever see.

But it's 10 o'clock. I need breakfast and to get out into the sun and burn my already crispy skin for the last time until an indeterminate date in 2013. More later...

The More, Much Later

Except there isn't much more. I have spent the last three days being exhausted, stressed by the wrong people and quite enjoying myself. It is now Wednesday night and tomorrow is my 26th anniversary. This time last year we were just recovering from a really awesome party that some of you actually attended; this year I'll take t'wife to Pooja and watch Prometheus.

Right, t'mother-in-law is here now and I'm not allowed to hide...