Monthly Archives: April 2007

Why God is left-handed……

Obviously as all the greatest people in the world aer left-handed and God can be nothing but the Greatest it is only logical to conclude that He must also be a lefty.


This is from The Times on the 25th, and is a reference to Boris Yeltzin when he forgot to wake up to meet the Irish prime minister. As you can tell by the fact that God’s watch is on His right wrist, He must be left-handed (in a survey, conducted by me, the majority of lefties wear their watch on their right wrist).

The Times on the 25th also included the first fiendish sudoku that I managed to finsih. And inside twenty minutes at that!!!


I’m being sent off to S.Wales for the next ten days or so for work, so I shan’t be around much I’m afraid. Take care of yourselves now!!!

Tarred with the same brush….

I have recently had a revelation about what sound’s like a truely scary book.

Having read the blurb* I am slightly confused that how they managed to get an entire book out of such a small topic. Gee-whizz, they have covered the topic in the outline, what more can they say??? I do have some issues though…..

*The book’s basic contention is that all heterosexual men love to pursue women, and highly prize “catching them.” If they like a woman, they will overtly declare their interest because they really enjoy doing this. If he sends mixed or positive signals, but waits for the woman to ask him out first, then he is either lazy or not very interested (hence the title). This behavior is hardwired in men’s brains and hasn’t been changed by feminism. A woman making the first move will either disappoint the man, or be attempting to start a relationship with a lazy or uninterested one.

These are the fact that it seems to polorize men as being either like dogs chasing a bitch on heat, or lazy/uninterested. Now I know that somehow they have managed to fill in the one hundred and eighty-seven pages, and possibly they’ve covered other topics, but I suspect not.

Thing is, men are (and I do mean it, really) a little bit more complicated than that.

I have…… a friend…. whom I would say would fall into neither of these categories. Simply from one (hyphenated) word – self-esteem. Or two words – low self-esteem. My friend would counter that to “overtly declare their interest because they really enjoy doing this” is just foolish. Afterall, the LSE says that there is little point in doing so, because you are not good enough.

Likewise with the “waits for the woman to ask him out first, then he is either lazy or not very interested” unless of course LSE tells him that she’s mistaken and deserves better.

Now I suppose that somewhere in the one hundred and eighty-seven pages there may be something that covers that sort of thing, like I said I’ve not read the book, but if this* is the reason why the book was written, there’s a very good chance that it isn’t.

*The book was inspired by an episode of Sex and the City entitled “Pick-A-Little, Talk-A-Little,” in which Miranda asks Carrie’s boyfriend, Berger, to analyze the post-date behavior of a potential love interest. Because the man declined Miranda’s invitation to come up to her apartment after the date, Berger concludes that “he’s just not that into you,” adding that “when a guy’s really into you, he’s coming upstairs.”

Jumping on the bandwagon…..

Sure, most people seem to have done this and as my life at the mo revolves around going to work and hoping my feet stop hurting soon I thought I’d join in…..

Something that I love about these is that they always say nice things, everything is nice. “I am a romantic and nostalgic, though with a spirt of adventure. I am a creature of habit with a love of the stability and comfort of routine. A real romantic and dreamer, for me love is all about devotion and tenderness…..” see, all nice….. true as well, but that’s beside the point!!!! ;o)

Seven hours , fifty minutes and twenty-three seconds……

And they were possibly the most painful just-under-eight-hours of my life…. well, no, the two hours it took me to walk from St James Park to Westminster were definatly worse. Or this morning when I tried to get up for work (yes I went and put in a full day), that was pretty bad as well.

The weather was hot (hottest London Marathon ever) and I started well, though I had to walk off cramps in my calfs early on. The problems came when I pulled a muscle in my foot round the ten kilometre and the limping set my hip off, so by mile ten I was using my flag pole as a walking stick. That is not a good thing. Not with sixteen miles to go.

Needless to say, after crossing Tower Bridge and turing right (the opposite direction to the finish) and seeing most people heading the other way, well, it’s pretty despirting. Coming up to the sixteen mile marker I had to stop at one of the St John’s centres for a sit down.

Deciding to carry on till at least the next St John’s I discovered the greatest aspect of the London Marathon, and that’s the spectators. Despite being hours after all the elite runners and most of the rest of us there were still people out on the road cheering the straglers along. Lying through their teeth when they say the finish isn’t far now, but it all adds up.

[if you ever run it yourself wear something that identifys you, either with your name on it or, as in my case, I wore a running singlet with the welsh flag on it, carrying a welsh flag, so I got a lot of; “come on welshy!!” or “nearly there Taffy!!” and you know it’s for you. That helps.]

From mile seventeen I realised that if I wanted to get to the finish before eight hours I would have to complete the last nine miles doing twenty minute miles. This while having to limp and using a stick. What you end up doing is concentrating on the pace, one, two, one, two, one, two…. and end up ignoring the pain.

That is until you come through Westminster. Along the edge of St James’ Park, turn right when you get to Buckingham Palace and then you can see the finish halfway down The Mall.

Once you see the Finish you are just able to summon energy that you did not know you had. I had been limping for over sixteen miles, using my flag as a make-do crutch and yet I was able to break out into a (alibet slow) sprint waving my flag in the air. One of the nice things about finishing near last (35610th) is that you don’t have to worry about people getting in the way of your finishing photo. When I finished there were about five of us on The Mall and we were all pretty much spread out.

Will I do it again…..??? Well, it’s too soon for me to say yes (yes) but I’m damned proud that I’ve done it…. and I’ve set a time that I should be able to beat!!!

NB – for those interested, I’d had sunburn on my shoulders, chaffage on my thighs, arms and nipple (left), painfull; lower back, knee, ankles, hip, feet. There were blisters so big on my feet that when I took my running shoes off I could see them with my socks on. After averaging just over five kilometres per hour for the marathon, it then took me two hours to walk from St James’ Park to Westminster tube station (~600m).

I have curtains……

A fairly simple statement, but one that I could not have said…. oh…. yesterday. But now I can.

It has been a long day, working in Harrow which is a fair trek into London and then along the Bakerloo and Metropolitan all the way to Harrow-on-the-Hill. On the other hand, by some complete miracle, I actually bumped into one of the two people whom I know in London, on their way to work, in Baker Street underground station.

Thankfully I managed not to fall asleep on my way home (though I nearly dozed off n a couple of occasions) and I’m now going to be deciding what music I shall have on my mp3 player to listen to on Sunday.

Two days to go…….

There are some people who might suggest that crashing my bike twice would have been a slight hint. There are some that might say that your GP telling you to stop training for a month, twice, in the run up would be a stronger hint.

Unfortunally I am terrible at taking any sort of subtle hint which is why come sunday morning I shall be in Greenwich lining up to run a tad over twenty-six miles…..

I. Am. A . Fool.

You know…….

You know that feeling when all of a sudden you really miss someone and just want to speak to/see them but can’t. I don’t know what set it off but just as I was getting back to the village from practice this evening and suddenly I felt it.

Not really nice, but c’est la vie.

nb – and no, I didn’t “borrow” the bed spread from the local children’s ward. It’s my alternative spread, incase my usual one hasn’t dried in time. Or as in this case, is the one my mum gave me to put on and I couldn’t be bothered to try and find the other one. Be glad, I generally don’t care what the pattern is and until recently I was still using Thomas The Tank Engine sheets from when I was five!!!!

Cheeky sod……. :p

There has been some good news and some not so good news in the world of British Ice Hockey.

“T&E – What about the bed?” you cheeky sod!!! :p

However, maybe people aren’t interested in the wonderfull world that is Ice Hockey (though I can’t think why).

P4145107 P4145108

The bed has turned out to be very comfy, though a tad to high just to get in (obviously my legs are too short) but far too low for the use of a ladder. Ok…??? Is that good enough??? Don’t say that I don’t try to please!!

A local affair…….

There are some people who might be aware that I am a slight Ice Hockey fan. While I do follow the National Hockey League over in North America I also follow British Hockey. Though we’re not that good. (World Ranking List – scroll down)

However, after two very tight semi-final matches this evening my two local teams, the Guildford Flames (yay) and the Bracknell Bees (boo) have both (eventually) made it to the final of the EPL playoffs, playing tomorrow in Coventry. I’m going to try and get a ticket and go up.

Last game of the season and it’s going to be a local derby…. oh yeah, I want to be there!!!

I’ve not heard of which seems to be a news service which the public writes, however one of the lovely reporters there (Kaitlin) did ask if she could use my dino photo from my hols in her story about the link between T-Rex and chickens. I hadn’t the heart to say that I didn’t think the dinos were t-rexs, but one of their cousins…. cause I may have been wrong.