This Standard Scottish Life

… honest Gov.  Did you know I have another life ?  It’s over here.

I have been reading the books about cycling training and fitness and looking at the Tour de France website.  What more training do you need to do ?  I also cycle 10 miles to South Queensferry every Thursday to go to Tai Chi class and then cycle back (sometimes moderately inebriated which presents a challenge when trying to dodge the foxes and rabbits).  I most every day cycle the 10 metres to work too.  4,500 miles across North America ?   Pah – piece of piss! Tour de France ?  A measly 3000 miles?  Ya bunch of skinny sissies!  Kiss my nappied arse!

And today I joined the gym.  It looks pretty in the gym.  Don’t think I’ll go on those machines though.  They look dangerous.

Is it a monster ? Is it a MONSTER ?

I just thought I’d drop that in. It’s my new fav tune on me iPod.

And I think it is! A monster. If you are called John you should be worried! Got a little tummy ache Hotboy ?

“I can feel myself fading away …”

I am at death’s door [slight exaggeration with possible hints of melancholy and hypochondria] and worse than being stalked by Mr Ekerot is that I have lost my appetite. I don’t remember where I left it. I hate losing it, it’s worse than losing your keys. All I’ve had to eat today is a bacon roll. Oh no, that’s right, two bacon rolls, a glass of orange juice and a coffee. And an empire biscuit. And then there was some Le Chef prepared coleslaw and a wee bit of that rice thing. Some, ginger cordial too. But that’s hardly anything for me. I have a hearty appetite. Oh well, I suppose losing half an ounce won’t do me any harm.

And then what a depressing day.  This morning I got soaked in the rain again (that’s 3 times in 3 days). And this afternoon it was all Nazis and Japs, followed by a Spanish film with Mr Ekerot’s mate Max von Sydow. It’s a sign. A sign I tell you!

He’s here now.

At the door.

That guy with the scythe.

This is my last blog entry.

Good-bye cruel world.

What is that He is offering me ?

A glass of wine ?

Oh I feel much better now.

Piss off Mr Death and go cut the grass with that thing.

… I have got ra plague. I think I caught it off Ra Bliss Blog. I didn’t know that germs could traverse the internet highway. My plague is of the green gunk, uncontrollable sneezing, snuffling and coffing type. I begged off work this morning and retired to my bed of used and unused tissues and slept a blissful sleep (see Hotboy Ra Flatheids can do Ra bliss but only when infected) until I was rudely awoken by my rumbling stomach at 2pm!

Due to Ra plague I have missed Marc Almond but I sent Gussie and Roderick to check that he was still being glum and wearing black. In the meantime I have been watching people swimming in mud and rubbish bands at Glastonbury. Kasabian are particularly rubbish but not as rubbish as The Fratellis, not even their Scottishness can save them from their rubbishness. And will someone give that wee boy frae the Arctic Monkeys a pie or a biscuit or summat, he looks starved. In between mud and rubbish I bought tickets to see the epic Music in 12 parts by the not at all rubbish, in fact quite fab Philip Glass. (I bet that he looks good on the dance floor!)

Hmmm … maybe I caught ra plague off of the meece. (PS I have deployed the ultra sound screechy things and the meece have been absent for some time now)

… hold on to that feeling“. Is what me and the waterproof MacBook were singing in the bath while watch an evaluation copy of the final episode of De Sopranos.  When y’all catch up wiff me you’ll get it.

So, there I am singing along to a Journey song wondering how it is I know all the words.  And then I remember I had a pal, Iain, at college who liked such music (actually, Iain liked all music) but I’m pretty sure it’s his fault that I can confidently belt out power ballads.  Maybe he was trying to save me from the student moping of The Smiths, The Cure and REM.

I feel a poodle perm coming on!

… I was in Mediocre & ‘Spensive tonight and while looking for booze I saw a tub of Organic Chicken Chunks in Jelly.  It was dog food.  Why do dogs need organic anything?  They are dogs! They don’t care what they eat.  Come on … they eat their own vomit and lick their arses! Oh, that’s right, middle class dogs have high standards and are a bit fussy about the source of their food.  I wonder if they worry about fair trade, food miles and the carbon foot print of their farts ?
Inspired by a Gussie forwarded Guardian article.  And I am not joking about the Organic Chicken Chunks in Jelly.  It was very tasty with a glass of Reisling.

…. I willnae be able to do that!  I said at Tai Chi class tonight.

Sandy the cycling snail and T the speed boy (with the carbon fibre racing bike) are dedicated Tai Chi-ers.  We cycled 10 miles to class in South Queensferry tonight and then I cycled the 10 miles home.   For two hours we tugged at birds’ tails, unhooked hooks, tried not to crash our Mercedes into the garage door and I’m sure at one stage I was biting a tiger’s ear (I’m not sure I got that move right).  So we can do four moves now.  Then the Tai Chi master said, Will we do the short form or the long ?  Long, the rest of the class said, all 108 and moves.  How will I remember 108 moves ?  I can hardly remember the 4 I do badly.  About 50 moves in they did this standing on one foot thing while moving the other foot around really high up and very very slowly, with no wobbling.  Not a chance!  No way will I be able to do that.
I’ll get my coat then …..

… it was at the veggie patch today. I was sweating over the weeding, but not in my garden. I don’t like to weed in my garden anymore, I like to weed other people’s. Two hours of weeding Derek’s allotment and I was happy (he put up my greenhouse so I traded weeding in return). But I was weeding in my t-shirt and now my arms are burned! Ouch! And not only are my arms burned but also a little strip on my back. Double ouch!

(I don’t think the water skier is really a water skier. I think he’s a Rocky Horror Picture Show extra from Florida.)
While on a break from the weeding and being fed and watered on choccie biscuits and Fanta orange I got chatting to Rab. He told me that he didn’t like to use pesticides on his garden coz he practised Dharma and was a Buddhist. I told him about Hotboy and his hut meditations.

So it’s dharmic not organic gardening! Do all allotments have Buddhists ? Is it the rules ? I am clearly almost nearly a buddhist coz today practised:

• right actions – eeeding other person’s garden
• right livelihood – I ate thinnings of my lettuce crop and no meat (except a small slug by accident). I’m not sure if Hagen Daas ice cream counts as right livelihood tho
• right exercise – I cycled to my garden
• as for the other 5, well they are hard and I’ll get to them tomorrow

Take two bicycles. One weighs 75kg (including rider) and the other weighs 100kg (including the same rider). Both bicycles travel along a flat surface at 20km/hour (i.e. the bicycles are rolling not accelerating) with the rider applying equal effort on the pedals. If the cyclist stops pedalling will both bicycles travel the same distance before they halt ?

Was the question I asked Le Chef last night. This was a mistake. He mentioned something about potential and kinetic energies and momentum and then some horrid formula about friction and then I lost consciousness. I never found out the answer because apparently the answer to my question is very hard! I thought it was O grade physics stylee. Remind me never to ask questions that involve Newtonian mechanics (I have already learned not to ask about quantum mechanics). Imelda MacKillop is wise to this as well. She never asks questions about sums or that nature of the physical universe.

PS Le Chef is not only a chef he is also a mathematical physicist. What a wasted life. He could have been an actuary. I could have been rich and retired.

Dear HotBoy

You will be pleased to learn that I have taken the first step in flatheidedness reduction. Today I went to Tai Chi class (they run the class at lunchtime in the workplace). I thought Tai Chi would be easy. It’s bloody hard!

Stop doing THAT NOW! screamed my Achille’s Tendon.

No, no, NO! don’t bend like that yelled me knee.

and

Will you F**KING BREATHE! hollered my lungs, heart and brain.

How come those old Chinese ladies make it look so easy ? But never mind I have learned to do one complete move (of 30) quite badly and am looking forward to Striking the tiger’s ears next week. It’s quite fun really!