Migraines...who bloody needs them, Part 3

Taking today off. Had to email a schedule I worked on this weekend though so I thought I would blog some artwork which just about explains the soreness of the head this morning. But only just.

Adventures of the LWD

As duly noted by FG we dragged Sparrow all over Whitstable on Saturday. It was hot, he was hot and miserable. He stopped wagging his tail at strangers and didn't even summon up the happiness to lick and slobber over anyone by the end of the day. He was a seriously miserable little dog. We took no notice as he insists on coming on outings!

This morning, he decided to get back at me for taking him on said nightmare outing. As is my wont, we went for a walk in the park in the morning, before I leave for work. Exercise for both of us, it clears my mind, it gives him a chance to run, pee, sniff, poop, cavort with other canines and such.

This morning, his highness decided to find the only dead thing in the park and roll in it. Nice. I shouted at him, he jumped up, tongue lolling, looking for all the world, as pleased with himself as you could imagine. I kid you not - if his ears weren't in the way, the doggy grin on his face would have gone all the way around his head.

So, we speed marched around the park, me studiously ignoring smelly little dog cavorting about the long grass like a antelope, surprising the living bejeezus out of a rather frail old Westie (the Fastest Paw in the Westie!) by leaping out at him as he strolled past with his rather superior owner. Angus almost died from fright, the owner merely sniffed in distaste at the youngling's behaviour.

Got the mutt home, eventually, after an extraordinary amount of peeing along the way (him, not me) and tackled him with gardening gloves, fairy dishwashing liquid and some hand towel. He was considerably cleaner by the time I left for work. I worried for our couches.

Got home this evening and found him as white and pure as undriven snow.

The little shit.

He just did it on purpose.

St Sparrow

Sunday Service

Young Christian O'Connell has a new show on Sky One - including his Virgin Breakfast show.

We stupidly thought it would be a good idea to go and watch it being filmed. It was grand fun, initially. Christian was hilarious, Chris was fab...Brian was well, Brian (snigger) and we all met Ross Noble, comedian and Angel Delight addict. But then, three and a half hours to film one show - I felt so sorry for us, for Christian, the team, the crew...we worked hard to laugh, clap, laugh and applaud some more, looking enthusiastic.

It is such hard work being pleasant. We staggered out, eventually allowed to leave. I clutched my bribe to Christian, having been convinced that it was so perfect I would have the bloody scooter they had up for grabs but as it was a pre-arranged thing...grumble grumble - a sparkly silver glitter mug emblazoned with the face of the Hoff. A true one off piece of art - I managed actually meet Christian, showed him the mug and he was stunned and amazed at it sheer majestic beauty...pointing out that he was stunned it had not been chosen to be put forward as one of the items to choose from for the big prize of the game. Oh well. Such is life. I trust the young woman who did win the scooter does not live in Kent, or in London, because as sure as the sky is blue and the sun is shiny, if I spot her scooting around, I will make a point of shoving her over. Grins happily.

But, do watch the show on Sunday evening, at 10pm and see all our hard work. Good fun...tiring...but good fun.

Beset by Insane People

Honest to goodness, I am a magnet to people who are weird, odd, a bit Touched and those who smell a bit too much due to forgetting they had a bathroom because the aliens have stolen their brain.

Case in point, this morning:

Lizzy happily walking along Lower Regent Street, minding her own business when tiny small woman edges into her path. Lizzy steps past woman, lengthening her stride, to get past her as she is conscious of the fact that she should get to the office ASAP. Lizzy's bag jostles little woman's several bags as she is sipping her double late moccachino skinny espresso. Lizzy apologises, does not think anything more about it, and walks on. Little woman, clearly in the mood to pick a fight, storms up, jostles Lizzy and bag and starts shouting "next time you fucking touch me..." and I stop and stare at her. Jaw dropped, smacked in the gob by this display of bunny boiler psycosis. I blink, stupidly, nod my head and listen to her rant and say smartly "shut up you stupid psycho bitch" or something in those lines and literally run across the street in case whatever she has is catching. To my regret as I would have loved to have found out the rest of her tirade...I only heard a few bits of it as I was listening to Linkin Park on my stereo headphones and could see her mouth opening and closing like those of a fish...called Bob.

It was bizarre. It left me seriously frazzled though as the sheer look of distate and - dare I say it - hatred that shimmered in her eyes really left me quaking. I kid you not. You expect odd behaviour like that from unwell people...I choose to think that she didn't take her Calmets this morning...or forgot her Bach Flower remedy and her fragile state was pounded on by a nasty train journey, or whatever. I really feel sorry for whoever she works with, whoever she is married to. All I can say is, in the words of the inimitable Little Britain chap - eeeeeh eeeeh.

Captain Jack is back!

And he is still - as if it was ever a problem - just utterly scrummy. If you are into that type of thing - ahem.

POTC2 is rollickingly good fun. They get their legends totally messed up, Davy Jones and The Fying Dutchman...but hey, I reckon that it was for a good cause.

The action is fast and furious. Kiera gets to snog Johnny - the bitch, ahem - and Orlando - who cares? - and the chap starring as Captain Norrington (Jack Norrington) turns out to do dark and brooding and dirty, really well. Orlando gets to preen and still be the prettiest elf, Kiera swings her swords with meaning and Johnny, well he is rock n' roll.

What is hugely clear is how much serious fun the actors had making this movie. It isn't as good as the first one, by no means, but the characters have been established so it is full steam ahead with cutlasses, kraken, pirates (argggh!) and one plot development after the other.

We get to meet Will Turner's father, who is "working" on the Flying Dutchman as a crustacious crew member of Davy Jones (Bill Nighy who is fantastic! but not as good as Jeffrey Rush as Barbosa) who is the captain of the FD. And strangely enough, Cpt Jack had struck a deal with Davy Jones 13 years ago to be Captain of the Black Pearl. His time is up and he needs to fulfull his promise to Davy Jones - to serve him, offer up his soul. Unless he can get someone else to take his place, as a downpayment...guess who gets tricked into going onboard the Flying Dutchman?

And naturally, Davy Jones - bless his watery heart - has a secret. His locker/chest hidden on land actually contains .... oops, no, no spoiler, I promise... but well, needless to say Jack and Elizabeth and young Will are after this treasure...

Good fun. A bit predictable...but the ending is a serious cliffhanger...basically guaranteeing that everyone will be dying to find out what happens in 3!

Now, bring me that horizon.

Is it a man, is it a bird...is it a plane?



Nope, it is Superman and you know...eventhough I don't really like Superman, even FG agrees, that this boy is exceedingly easy on the eyes.

And also, I really posted this as I know WW would get a kick out of watching...go on, press the play button, you know you want to!