Ready.....Aim......Fire

What does it mean when you visit a strangers house and they invite you to fire a rifle pellet directly into their living room floor? Does it mean you're TOTALLY in? :o)

Unfortunately the lovely chappie in question is a 64 year old bus driver called Ken, I've been single a while, but not prepared to go there quite yet.

The Christmas season is upon us! And in my own inimitable style, I still have half of my Christmas shopping to do and have written next to zero Christmas cards. I was much better when I was living at home and had my sister dragging me out shopping at every opportunity.

I have, however, managed to both amuse and horrify my new manager by decorating my new office:

Yes, I know, tasteful :o). I have also managed to consume an entire box of Lindor almost to myself, and polish of half a bottle of bubbly with Oggs that was presented to me a mere day or so ago. I think as far as achievements go I'm doing quite well. Essential achievements such as wrapping and.......buying in general continue to elude me.

I'd like to take this opportunity to Say a big Merry Christmas to everyone out there who has held on as a follower during my exceedingly lax year this year! My resolution is to get off my blogging ass and do something fun to write about next year. Next year I will mostly be writing about snow.....ice......snow sludge......icy snow sludge, and then the wonders of finally being able to walk in a straight line with correct posture, instead of like a rather tense, hesitant gnome with a persistent back complaint.

So, Merry Christmas Y'all, and a Happy 2011. I hope the new year turns out to be all you wish for :o)

Oh, Stow, how I love you so

So it's finally happened! Ogs and Sprogs live together.....a recipe for disaster I hear you ask? Will the universe implode? Or wll we simply die of alcohol poisoning?

Neither....I hope.

I moved in yesterday...with the help of my long-suffering father (Thank you Daddeh!). We packed the van in the morning, spending much of it confused that there seemed to be so much less than when I moved in. I'm sure I brought almost 20 boxes home, along with roughly 8 binbags....and all the crap that goes along with it. This time I had 6 boxes, 4 black bags.....and all the crap that goes along with it.

Hmmmmm....one suspects I may be bringing stuff back with me after visits home for quite some time.

I realised the day before moving that I actually didn't have much furniture. I left most of my stuff behind when I moved out of Grants, and so I have books with no bookcase and underwear with no drawers (drawers with no drawers....geddit??? I'm so funny). So I'm currently in a state of slight disarray, but all shall be fixed next weekend when furniture arrives...huzzah.

For now I'm amusing myself by smiling at the cats. I'd say laughing, but that's just mean, because their current behaviour has been brought about by the stress of the move and living in a new house. Having said that, I have to admit that they can be comical.

Mornington has always been a skittish kitty, the phrase 'scaredy-cat' was invented purely for her. She's currently spending most of her time under the bed, but she does venture into the living room occasionally. However, she doesn't seem to like the corridor floor, I think she sees it as hot coles...or shark-infested water, and Jo's room and the living room are at opposite ends of the house. So when you're sitting in the front room, you know when she's coming, she thunders down the corridor at a rate of knots, as Jo said the other day....at least she'll be losing some weight.

Mornington in less-skittish days at Gandhi Close

Sometimes you'll hear thundering and she won't appear, and when you peek out into the corridor she's perched ontop of the kitty scratcher or the 2 cardboard boxes a little further down, like a portly sentinel, presumably to regain her wits before the next assault on the floor. Likewise, you're not allowed to walk past her in the corridor, I suspect she lacks some spatial awareness and is convinced that you'll squish her if you try. This causes her to make a mad dash for whichever room or tower she can reach before you get to her.

Bless her crazy little heart.

Lucy is a little more relaxed, I wish she'd have a word with her errant daughter.

Tarquin has survived so far, presumably because Mornington is too preoccupied at the moment to have noticed his existence. I'm sure within a few weeks he'll be suffering the effects of her appetite.

So far so good people, stay tuned for more adventures of Ogs and Sprogs......oh...I simply cannot wait!

P.S, thank you Nicki for the awesome moving-in gift :D Once I have a good pic of it that I can get my hands on, it'll be posted. Love you x

The Pitter Patter of Tiny Feet?

Nope, more like the trample-clatter of stiletto-clad size tens!

This past weekend saw the fantastic spectacle of the 6th Annual Greenwich Drag Race. I had seen pictures of last years race on a friends profile, and I simply couldn't miss out this year, given my innate fondness of men in dresses.

My sister and I, Oggers, and our mates Ste and Kyle installed ourselves safely in Bar Du Museé on Nelson Street prior to the big event, along with about another 20 of Ste and Kyles friends. You see, it's simply not cricket to turn up to the Drag Race 100% sober....even for the contestants. I had been under the impression that the race would start at 7pm, however, the rumour had circulated that it in fact didn't start until 8pm, they told the Queens that it was 7pm to make sure they turned up on time!

We were still in the bar at 7:45pm, knowing that in all likelihood it still wouldn't kick off until 8:30pm. The area we were sitting in had actually been reserved for another party, but they were loathe to throw us out seeing as we reportedly spent about £1000 between us over 3 hours. Instead, they had blocked off our exit with a sofa, herding us safely into the corner with no hope of escape. So precious a commodity were we, that when we left at 8pm and Ste asked if we could reserve the area to return at 9pm, they accepted immediately and marked the area off.

Released from our upholstered prison, we trotted along to the Rose and Crown, the pub that organises this now-annual event. The Rose and Crown bills itself as a straight-friendly gay pub, I really love that! It was very cool to see policemen and women along with towering drag queens milling around in a huge crowd outside the pub. I spotted at least two brides, one Lady Gaga, a group of air hostesses complete with carry-on and at least 6 wigs that must have exceeded a foot in height.

Now the drag race is only one lap around the block (a large block). You can sympathise, the minimum requirement for the race is a 2 inch heel, and you must start and finish with your shoes on. There are also 2 'Sambuca Stops', where the Queens must halt and take a shot before carrying on. We positioned ourselves where last years Sambuca Stop had been, in the hopes of seeing some entertaining staggering and/or digestive pyrotechnics. Unfortunately they had moved the stops, but we were nicely positioned to see the Queens racing/trotting/walking/staggering into the final straight.

The winner of the Race was really quite impressive, we looked on to see a bride racing towards us, and I mean racing. She had her long white gown held up and out of the way, arms pumping, leaning forward in the manner of a bull running for a red flag. She reminded me somewhat of an over-competitive young mother at a Sports Day, kicking her toddler before her like a football as she 'helps' him win the 10 metre sprint.

She was followed closely by a few others, and then the rest began to come through in a slow flow. There were the joggers, balancing carefully on their 3 inch heels. They obviously hadn't put as much time into running around Greenwich with heels as Miss Bride had. Every competitor got cheers, waves and sips of beer from the crowd as they passed back into view of the Rose and Crown. But the biggest cheer was reserved for the last contestant.

If I remember correctly, she was dressed in a leopardskin top and pink leggings, and one of her heels had broken off, but she was persevering! After a slow walk chatting up a policeman, she 'sped' up, her legs bent so far it looked like she was in a half squat, and taking a tumble every now and again, but she made it over the finish line.

I've never seen anything quite like it in my life, I think I love it, a huge collection of people coming together to celebrate sexual and cultural diversity. However, the thing I love the most is the fact that the police close the roads for the duration of the race. I saw a bus stopped at the end of the road, the unexpected sight they were treated to must be something that will be burnt into their memories forever!

I Hath Returned!!

Back to reality...I've been back at work for a week, and when I think about my 3 months travelling I can't believe I was away for 3 months.

Work has been pretty much ok actually. I think I've been helped along by the fact that everything is changing for everyone at work at the moment. No one really knows what's going on, and so everyone is just as confused as me. Had I been plonked down into exactly the same situation as I left in, it may have been more of a judder, provoking a high-pitched wail of 'Nooooo......not for the rest of my liiiiife!!'

Things have changed since I've been away, new boss, soon-to-be new office, new colleagues.

.....Psychic octopi.......

Really??

Yes, this is what REALLY inspired me to begin blogging again. Paul.

Having been away for 3 months, my sister took the opportunity to tell me about Paul one day at home. There I was, innocently tapping away at the computer, probably wasting another day playing TumbleBugs (awesome....give it a go), when she started.

'There's this octopus'

*I look up, a tad confused. Did she just say what I think she said?* 'An octopus?'

'Yes.....there's this Octopus, his name is Paul'

'Paul...'

'Yes, his name is Paul, and he lives in Germany'

'Ok' *Okkkkkkkkkkk*

'And he predicts the football scores'

'Shhhh...go back to sleep Nicki'

And yet sure enough, there he was on the telly an hour or so later. Apparently, his selection for the finals is going to be shown live on television. I do hope that Paul the Psychic Cephalopod doesn't suffer from stage fright.

I read in the Metro this morning that he has been recieving death threats from angry Argentinians in the form of seafood recipes. One chef having threatened to catch him and 'tenderise' him, before serving up a wonderful calamari I suspect.

Poor Paul...I wonder if he'll survive to enjoy the next world cup, or whether he'll have been squid-napped (oh....that was truly awful, and taxonomically incorrect) and held for ransom by the England football team, in return for their dignity?

I feel sorry for Paul and his future of psychic evaluation and scientific probing. That pod is gonna be SO sick of mussels by next month.

Long Time no See.....Check this out....

Hello Everyboday :D

I haven't updated here in a while...my apologies, but I'm spending 3 months in Asia and blogging over on my travelblog. I can barely keep up there as it is, trying to do two would kill me!

I did however, just have to direct you to the site of a relatively new blogger. He's someone I've known for over ten years, one of the funniest people I've ever met, and he's just begun to write. He's been keeping me entertained with his musings over the past couple of weeks and you should TOTALLY check out his blog, click here, click now! You won't be disappointed :D

B xxx

Missing me? I'm over here..

Hello All :)

Incase you've wondering where I've gone, I'm in Thailand, kicking off my 3 month SE Asian adventure. I'm blogging over at Fly Away With Me for the next few months...check it out :D xxx

SURPRISE!!

A lot of you will know that my dearest darling sister organised surprise leaving drinkies for me this Friday. A lot of you will know because you probably recieved the message that she sent around to almost everybody in my phonebook! Raped and pillaged my mobile she did.

Apparently it was also all over Facebook, how I managed to miss it I have NO idea, clearly I'm not nosy enough!

Friday was excellent, I arrived at the pub under the impression that I was meeting a 6ft 4 policeman and his mates for a pub crawl (care of Wilf Porkie Enterprises) and found two tables full of a completely random assortment of lovely lovely people.

Caroline, Choy, Uma and Viv were there from the zoo, Bruce and Chris from work, my old housemate Steve, Wilfy and Jo who had got me to the pub in the first place, and of course the lovely Nicki were all waiting to surprise me! There were balloons and there was cake and nibbles and lots and lots of booze. There was also an exceptionally excellent white vest being passed around that people were writing messages on. I'm taking it with me and using it as a sleeping top....should be a bit of an ice breaker in the good ole dorm rooms.

After a while, Nicki recieved a phone call from someone who was coming, but neither of us recognised his number. He was described as having an indian accent and for the life of me I could not think of who it might be, until I saw Julio wandering through the pub. That would explain why I couldn't think who it was, he speaks with a very strong Spanish accent! Julio is a painter decorator that we've had in a couple of times to do some jobbies at work. He's absolutely lovely and proceeded to plonk himself at the bar with his mate, from this position he held court with all the ladies and purchased tequilas with wild abandon.

And later on the lovely Kayleigh and Tom turned up, by which point most of us were pleasantly pickled....apart from Steve who was driving...poor Steve.

The whole evening was excellent, Viv was totally on form. She gives the impression of being a very kindly, sweet and benign lady, which she totally is.......and then she gets her hands on the wine. She came out with some absolute gems and took a bit of a shine to our Steve ;), grabby grabby, NORTY Viv!! She certainly helped make the evening, I think I'm a little bit in love.

There were a couple of persistent themes of the evening, the first being spillage of wine! I don't think anyone got away without being splashed by wine at some point in the evening. I was sporting a particularly spectacular purple stain...very chic.

The second theme was JENGA! Perhaps contrary to expectations, as the evening wore on and we became slightly the more worse for wear...we actually got better at Jenga, check this baby out! WIN!


Cake was lovely and booze was lovely and company was excellently lovely lovely. When we got chucked out of the Castle, Kayleigh, Tom, Jo and I moved onto somewhere in Angel for a drinky....but being CONSIDERABLY inebriated by this point, it didn't last too long and soon Jo and I were headed for the nightbus.

We were woken up halfway home by a kindly man who took pity on us and let us know we were being booted off and onto another bus. We must have been a picture of beauty and gorgeousness. Faces squished up against the windows, snoring (probably not gently). I'm impressed he had the guts to approach.

Home for CHIKIN.......and the next thing I know I woke up on the sofa at about 5am.

All the signs of an excellent night I think! Thank you Nicki for organising such a lovely evening, thank you to Jo and Wilf for propelling me in the right direction and thank you to all those who came along to wish me well on my travels. I haz a big love for all of you :o)

Please....take a peek at the photies, these are in order....more evidence for why drinking is bad. There's distinct deterioration!

Nicki fails at Jenga!

Such concentration

Cheers!

Mmm, sexah Jenga pose

The lovely Julio

Tastes good

Hee hee, fab evening guys xxx

In The Spirit of Equilibrium

and also...I confess...partially to remove that hideous photo from No.1 position, I'd like to post this article I just came across:

http://www.macon.com/2010/03/23/1069261/bleckley-school-officials-allowing.html

You may remember that a couple of week ago I posted an article about a Mississippi school board that had cancelled a senior prom, they'd cancelled it because a lesbian student had requested that she be able to take her girlfriend as her date.

#167 Dad quite rightly highlighted the fact that this shouldn't be taken as a stereotype for the whole of the US, or even as a stereotype for all of the more conservative US states. This article proves that point.

Derrick Martin has been given permission to attend his senior prom with his boyfriend as his date. He lives in Georgia conservative Republican state, and in a town comprising of roughly 5200 residents.

Initially he was turned down by the principal of Bleckley County School, but after deliberation it was decided that there was nothing against it in the rules, and as such they could not say no.

If this can be achieved in these circumstances then there's hope for Mississippi yet....right??!

Huzzah

Hey Kayleigh....Remember This?

Why I shouldn't drink - exhibit A

That's me licking wood....apparently. Kayleigh, she's such an artist she is. She's the sculptor of the magnificent hairstyle I'm sporting here.

Magnificent

Equally magnificent is the gift Kayleigh bestowed upon me, from her trip to Falmouth.

Behold!

My wonderful new plastic dolphin is now gracing the office along with all my other office tat.

Kayleigh also showed me how to use macro on my camera last night....I can't tell you how excited I am about that. I can't believe I didn't know I could do it, but now I do and I haz a happy.

Well.....I can only apologise for this post. I'll do better soon. I promise!

Meditating on Meditation

Meditation is HARD!!

I went to a meditation class yesterday at the Croydon Buddhist Centre, it was very lovely, though they cleverly and subtly subscribe to that consumerist ploy, you enter and leave through the shop. I'm weak and easily influenced, so I'm now the proud owner of a new bag (with bells on...literally) and a book about meditating on the breath.

Well done me.

I was greeted by Clive and Jane, Clive made me a cuppa and offered me a biscuit, at which point I immediately fell in love. However, in my infinite strength, I managed to decline the offer of a biscuit and opted for green tea....I'm cleansing myself, cleansing...yes.

That was until the halfway teabreak when someone broke out the jammy dodgers. DAMN THEM!! Give me caffeine too!

Myself and another noob were taken into the meditation room (I hesitate to say 'shrine' room as I associate that word with nasty religion, but yes...it was a shrine room). There was a lovely golden buddha statue dressed in his saffron robe, and flowers in vases all around him. There was incense burning, and apart from that the room was very plain. A far cry from most Catholic churches you might wander into.

The teacher told us that today we'd be meditating on the mindfulness of breathing. There are different kinds of meditation, some more difficult or less accessible than others. Meditation on breathing is highly accessible because we always have our breath (fingers crossed) and it doesn't require a deep understanding of any buddhist principles. It's a good one for Westerners to use in our hectic and very un-asian lifestyles.

Then she explained to us that there are various ways you can position yourself. They've got these cushions, rectangle ones and squishy round ones, and they have lots of blankets and chairs. Basically you can use any array and combination of these things to arrange yourself in a comfy sitting/kneeling position. As a noob, everyone wanted to help me find my comfy position, I opted for kneeling (I'm a floor-sitter anyway...people in meetings at work find it most disconcerting), and I ended up perched ontop of 2 rectangular cushions, with another in front of me to rest my hands on. All this was ontop of a blanket to protect my feet, and another blanket round my shoulders incase I got cold.

I understood the emphasis on comfort after about half an hour of being sat there!

And so it started, we closed our eyes and started with a body scan, where we directed our attention to various parts of our bodies, starting at the feet and moving to the head, and concentrated on how they felt, the sensation of our clothes/the blanket/the cushions against them. Being a beginner this was difficult, and I found that I had to twitch every body part she was talking about to remind myself where it was and what it felt like. I can see how after a lot of practice you can become aware enough of yourself to (for a start, not have to twitch) feel whether maybe there's something going wrong somewhere. Does this part of me feel normal? No? What's wrong there then?

Then we began the breathing, 4 stages. In all stages you concentrate on the breath and try to tune everything else out. At first, you count after you exhale a breath, one to ten. In the next stage, you count before you inhale. I know I know...surely, counting after you exhale and counting before you inhale is the same thing?? In a way, but there's a subtle difference. By consciously counting before you inhale you're anticipating the next breath, you're not doing that by consciously counting after the exhalation. In the latter, you're finishing, in the former you're beginning.

After that you stop counting altogether and just concentrate on the breathing, then you focus even more specifically on the sensation of the breath as it passes into your body, on the lips, in the mouth and nostrils.

Again, being a first timer I had some trouble. At various points I stopped being able to feel my body and had to stretch my back and or twitch my legs to remind myself what position I was in.

Also, slightly worryingly perhaps, I found myself perpetually leaning to the left! Having to straighten myself up every so often (thank gawd everyone had their eyes closed). Every now again I felt like I was about to wobble forward. Had such a thing occurred, I'm pretty sure that I was so relaxed that my body wouldn't have woken up to respond in time and I'd just have slowly tipped forward, off of my perch onto my face and laid there for a minute...not making a sound. Rather like the felling of a tall solemn oak. If I'd have been lucky it wouldn't have been too noisy and no-one would have noticed.

I also had trouble keeping my brain on one thing, especially with all the madness running around in there at the moment. When I first closed my eyes I felt my eyeballs darting around as if to say 'Whit?? Whit?? What are you dooing?? There are PEOPLE here! Don't close your eyes, that's SOO embarrassing!' Eventually they settled down, but the brain did keep wandering slightly.

I take the piss out of myself and the situation, but I did actually really enjoy the experience. Most people living in the west have hectic lifestyles. Even those of us who like to be a couch potato usually have to get up and go to work/school/university, in order that we earn the right to be a couch potato when we get home. Even perpetual couch potatoes tend to watch telly or read, or play computer games, surf the internet. The point is that even when we're sitting and being quiet, we're not being still and letting our brains be still......ever! That's what was unusual about meditation, being SO still for an hour, letting everything else get on with it and concentrating on yourself for a little while.

It was very nice and I felt relaxed and serene afterwards, perhaps that's why I spent £15 in the shop, it's all that incense, gets to your brain.

By the by, I met someone during the break who's on the comedy course that Oggers went on, and the one that she tends bar for during the showcases. His showcase is next weekend. It's a small world. He said to me 'Did you enjoy it? You didn't find it too scary?'

That struck me. It's true, many people in London would probably walk into a room of people meditating, with their cushions and blankets, dead silence, dead stillness, and they'd think they'd walked in on a cult. They'd turn tail and run for fear of being brainwashed. It's too different, it's not normal.

Let me tell ya something!

Different is ok.

One Year of Blogging!

Happy Birthday Blog!

My blog is one year old today, a happy bouncing baby blog. Awwwww :o)

180 posts, that's more than 2 per week, and what on earth have I found to talk about in that time? Mostly a pile of rubbish I suspect, but I thought it would be nice to put together a little photo record of a year(ish) in the life of a Sproglet:

March 2009 - The one with Oggers and the farm

April 2009 - The one with Mini and Mother Sprogs in the greenhouse *gasp*

May 2009 - The one where I moved to Walthamstow (pwiddy gerbera moving in gift from Oggers)

July 2009 - The one where I went to Italy





August 2009 - The one where Mini Sprogs and I went horse riding


August 2009 - The one with a (one of many) pubcrawl




September 2009 - The one at Notting Hill




October 2009 - The one where Mini Sprogs and I went to Barcelona




November 2009 - The one with birthday food and gerbilz! (If you really wanna see those drunk bday pictures, clickerise here.




December 2009 - The one with the Christmas Pubcrawl (#167 Dad...I have an attention-seeking ketchup bottle!!)

January 2010 - The Baking one




February 2010 - The one with Chinese New Year






March 2010 - The one where I inherited a human skull :o)

Here's looking forward to another fun and weirdness-packed year :o) xx