Tales From The Shed

Bright, sunny morning so far. Though it is a bit cold outside.

I'm going to head into town, see if I can tweak some stuff I've been writing and that I've sent off. I have a deadline, but I'm well in advance of it - plenty of time for tweaking what I have written.

Last night, in lieu of watching any TV, I came here to the shed and just sat, and thought, and thought some more. Then I read this wonderful little book on "Streetwise Spycraft" - DIY James Bond lol I kid you not. Bought it in The Works, and told my nephew Sam about it. He seemed enthused about the book, showing it to Mum when I "accidentally" left it on the coffee table the other day when I went to the shed.

I think I'll go and look for a second copy for myself in The Works and leave this behind for Sam to borrow on "extended loan". If nothing else, the desire to read this book could help him improve his reading capacity, which can't be too bad.

And another thing concerning Sam: I did this before for him, so many years ago (back when nyghtshayde and I first started corresponding, roughly, IIRC), so I have no idea if he'll remember it now. Come Easter Sunday way back then, I asked Sam to help me make omelettes in the kitchen, and I asked him to get out the "special eggs" in the eggbox in the cupboard. When he opened the eggbox, he saw that it contained six Creme Eggs.

I like doing little things like this with my nephew. I might as well. Won't be long before he'll be all grown up, so all the childhood time I can spend with him now, I will.

Belt News

Once in a while, I like to report good tidings. And this item is one of those tidings of goodness.

I have mentioned, in past posts, that the belt I wear about my waist is actually a length of black chain with quick links and a key chain fastener for a buckle. The reason why I need a belt is because, basically, no leather or plastic belt can hold my girth for long without giving under the strain. Or so it used to be.

Over the months since I began working on my CR regime, my waistline has steadily been shrinking. I have reached the stage where, if I suck it in, I actually look thin.

To prove it, I moved one of the quick links on my belt down a notch. I now have seven whole links free, hanging from the end of my belt. (I attach my key chain to the loose end, so nothing goes to waste).

Until yesterday, it was six links - and a fortnight or so ago, it was five.

If this carries on, I'll have reached the stage where (1) I'll have ten links free; (2) I won't need to suck in my gut to look thin; (3) I'll start to need trousers and underpants with a smaller waist measurement.

That time draws ever nearer. If the shrinkage carries on at this rate, who knows? I might even manage to get myself all the way to thinness by the end of April.

"She Must Have Some Fucking Neck"

- My exact words, when I heard this woman's speech

The lump sum comprises £14m for Mills's income needs – put by the judgment at £600,000 per year – and £2.5m to buy a property in London.

The settlement involves McCartney paying for Beatrice's nanny and school fees, as well as £35,000 a year directly for her.

Mills made it plain she thought this was a derisory sum. "Beatrice only gets £35,000 a year - so obviously she's meant to travel B class while her father travels A class, but obviously I will pay for that," she said.

Yes, you fucking should pay for your own flights, you grasping cow.

Now if she'd turned around and said something like "X million of this is going to Amputee Awareness", or "I will Match It For Pratchett and contribute X million to Alzheimer's Research because I really don't need the money," I would have retained my open minded attitude and kept on giving her the benefit of the doubt.

But she only just brought it all down to money for her. Money, and sticking it to her man.

And it finally clinched what Mum and everyone around me has been saying - only, where they have said this with an underlying sense of envy, I now say this with the cold voice of calculated disinterest.

She Only Married Him To
Screw Him Over With The Divorce Settlement

Much as I may harbour a dislike for most British redtop journalism, I guess I must concede here that, this time, they may well have got this woman's metastable, mercenary, gold digging character nailed.