Something for the Weakened

Hello, my pretties. Yes, I survived the re-run of the Somme, more or less intact. A more in depth report on that in the next couple of days if I get time or remember. Having resolved to do that, I must now find something else to blather about. Okay, how’s this.

I’m currently indulging in one of my almost annual attempts to grow some kind of convincing facial hair. In the past, these attempts have always lead to some form of unmitigated failure. Two weeks without shaving leading to a couple of clumps of bum fluff, that sort of thing. This time it weirdly seems to almost be working. The clumps seem to have melded together to produce something which might even be considered a beard by those who aren’t too picky about these things. Admittedly my cheeks are still barren in terms of hair (hello girls), but the chin sprouts seem almost uniform in length. The problem I now face is twofold. The combination of my pale anaemic skin with my pale fair hair makes the growth invisible at distances of over twelve feet. There is also the fact that it looks quite shit. I will give it until the weekend to either suddenly look great or for my face to change colour in some drastic ways. That don’t involve me blacking up. Not after last time.

Other business. My technological woes will be over in the next couple of weeks with the acquisition of new technology (hooray!). This should mean that updates should start becoming more frequent (boo!). It might mean that I finally get around to telling the story of my latest encounter with my dentist. The previous encounter is detailed here, for those of you who may have missed it. Wow, I’ve never used the archive before. It works! Astounding. I had planned to make some mention of the one-year anniversary, only to now discover that I’ve missed it by a month or more. Have I really been churning this nonsense out for thirteen months? This scares me. I’ll shut up now.

Hey, chidlins! Two posts in as many days. I give too much, really I do. Bad news for you is that it’s something of a nothing. Just to say that the likelihood of any postings over the next seven is low. Very low indeed. I shall be ensconced in deepest Zomerzet, indulging in the Lord alone knows what. It’s seven or eight years since I’ve visited the festival, so it wouldn’t surprise me if some type of internet cafe thing had reared its head on the grounds. If so, there does remain a faint possibility of me hammering away at the keyboard for a while in some sort of mushroom induced stupor. Though as mentioned earlier, this is pretty unlikely. On that note, I shall leave you to your doings. Go do!

Okay, I realise that almost everyone who reads this will have already heard me blathering on about little else over the last couple of days, but do bear with me, there is a point to all this. On Saturday I was hit by a speeding cyclist who’d jumped a red light. Bruising, scuffed knees, a small graze on my cheek and minor shock ensued. The cyclist managed a large gash over his eye and presumably a similar bruise ratio. A very helpful couple with a babby in a pushchair scooped us both off the road and phoned for an ambulance, concerned by our head traumas. Following the paramedics arrival (sadly not Matthew Bisp, the only paramedic I’ve had the pleasure of dealing with in the past – a story for another day) there followed about five minutes treatment and then twenty minutes of paperwork – predominantly my signing things stating that I had no intention of suing the NHS. Is it not a wonderful world we live in? Anyway, at some point during the second form, one of the Ambulance-men asked if I wanted to take any action against him what done me wrong. I quickly replied in the negative. In spite of his bike landing on top of me and his not being of an advanced, befuddled age like myself, he seemed to have come off worse out of the whole incident. Apart from slightly scratching my headphones (which still work, even after being pulverised into the pavement!) I had sustained no collateral damage. My pride was slightly damaged (whilst going into shock I became extremely hot so was forced to remove my shirt, condemning all around to the sight of my nipples), but as far as I could make out I would be able to go about my business, albeit in a slightly wobbly fashion. I left the scene while the medic’s went to work on the chap’s eye, wobbling the last few hundred yards to my door.

Okay, scene set in two hundred more words than I’d planned. Now the part that interests me. The exact same thing very nearly happened to me today. Again I was crossing the road when all traffic lights around me were red (excluding pedestrian crossing ones). I turned to look behind me, not out of a new found paranoia, it’s something I always do, only to find a bike bearing down on me having jumped the red lights. Its rider wasn’t pedalling as hard and fast as on Saturday, so veered around me, muttering something under his breath.

Now here, at long last is my point. This second cyclist made my blood boil. My entire being was suddenly consumed with the desire to pummel his needlessly handsome face into the nearest wall and then spend some time jumping on it. To kick his rear wheel in such a way that he went over and under the next bus to pass. To ram a large pole through the spokes of the front wheel, catapulting him into the back of a churning cement mixer from which there would be no escape. All these thoughts shot through my mind in seconds, before I had even arrived on the other side of the road. Then it struck me.

This man had done me no wrong, yet I wanted to crush his needlessly handsome face in one fell swoop. Whereas I let the cyclist who had crushed me under ten kilos of speeding metal get away scot free, without a single thought of doing him any wrong.

What brought about these two opposing standpoints? Possibly the fact that I saw the first bloke in pain already and decided he didn’t really need any more. Maybe it was because of my state of shock, I was more worried about my own health than crushing the inflicter of pain’s skull. I think it’s most likely because the second bloke muttered something I took to be derogatory and I didn’t hear what it was. I saw him crossing the road on foot shortly afterwards. There were cyclists riding all around him, but no matter how hard I wished none of them even went close to him. I considered cutting the brake cables on his bike for a moment, but then thought better of it.

I couldn’t remember what it looked like.

My lack of both technology and time continues. Actually, I probably could make more time, but can’t stand to be in this building any longer than I need to be. Random nonsense will return in the fullness of time. Oh yes.

No, I am still alive. Barely. No time to write. Something more substantial soon. Promise. Out.

Now you know.

nothin