1st short sory

Reaching deeply into his pocket, in search of his key, Dave realised, to the unknowing observer, he probably resembled a dirty old man, enjoying a little solo dogging.
Despite smiling at the thought, he allowed himself a sideways glance to check for an audience, before finally brushing his fingertips against the key.
Maybe those kids from his childhood, who wore keys around their neck, secured by a shoelace weren't as dumb as he'd always believed.
Opening the door and stepping into the warmth of home, only to be greeted by the feeling of a spiders web across his face.
Resulting in Dave flailing his arms around his face with the speed and power of an Olympic swimmer.
Finally satisfied that the money spider, or equally harmless creature had been disbursed, Dave switched on the hallway light.
Taking the time to have a quick look around, just in case the web belonged to a bird eating tarantula.
It's unlikely but you do hear stories.
As he pushed the door closed behind him, it was obstructed by a mountain of mail.
"Oooo, Mr Popular!", he said sarcastically.
Shoveling up the post in one hand, whilst closing the door with the other, Dave walked through to the kitchen and spread the mountain of mail across the table.
Dave strained his eyes, as his ecologically friendly light bulb also strained to reach full brightness, with what felt like the speed of the sun rising.
After separating the junk mail, he was left with a solitary windowed envelope.
Tearing open the envelope, Dave recognised the credit card company's symbol inside, prompting him to throw the envelope on top of the pile of junk mail.
He stood momentarily motionless in the kitchen, then said, "Fuck this!", and headed back out of the door.

Cycling

As a cyclist, I've observed many things.
For example;
Squirrels are among the dumbest creatures in the World.
They can see you riding toward them, yet they'll still run across your path!
Pedestrians are the second dumbest, for the same reason!
I remember years ago, with the introduction of 'The Walkman', there was a worry that people who had loud music playing directly into their ears would lack spacial awareness. Thus leaving them a danger to themselves whilst in public.
Aside from a handful of cases, as far as I'm aware, this wasn't really the case.
However, when targeted with the same accusation, mobile phones don't come away with the same virtual innocent verdict.
Placing a mobile phone into the hands of certain individuals seems to instantly suck away at their common sense.
Sending text messages, emails, or browsing the Internet whilst walking in public, doesn't make you indestructible to oncoming vehicles.
It's not such a major issue when the vehicle is me on my bike but I've seen some crazy behaviour.
I don't know the stats but would imagine it's the cause of a rising percentage of injuries.
If they step into my path, providing I have enough time to stop, or swerve, the worst they'll experience is me screaming at the top of my voice.
I have a bell on my bike but me screaming always gets a better reaction.
I managed to make one woman scream almost as loud as I was, and drop her phone. RESULT!

Regular blogger

I thought I'd better make the effort and add something to this, before it reaches a year since my last posting.
Obviously, nothing has happened to me in the last ten months.
Also, I've not had a creative thought.
I guess if I post something every ten months, I could still claim to be a regular blogger.
I obviously set my sights too high originally.
Maybe if I'd aimed a little lower, there'd be no feeling of disappointment.
That could be a good life lesson.
Although. if I followed this lesson, I'd leave myself open to the Chris Rock insult of being 'a low expectation having motherfucker'.
I'd find the accusation hard to argue against.

Robbie Williams

I see Olly Murs as a kind of Robbie Williams Light.
He could quite easily change his name to Robbie Williams Light without facing any protest.
If I were a song writer who wrote songs with Robbie Williams in mind.
Aside from being a song writer with extremely low aspirations, I'd be safe in the knowledge that anything that doesn't make it onto a Robbie album, could be considered for a b-side, and failing that, good old Olly could snap it up!
Unfortunately, when you start at Robbie, once Olly turns you down, you couldn't even get a busker to take your song on board!

Biggie Smalls

Ironically, Biggie Smalls almost certainly wore big smalls

Dreams

I hate the whole business of reading dreams.
Psychoanalysts and Psychologists have managed to make a very good living out of convincing people that they can interpret their dreams.
When anybody suggests that their dreams have a deep, hidden meaning, my stock reply is always the question, "You know what that dream means? It means that you were sleeping!"
I don't know who's joke that was. I suspect Jerry Seinfeld but I honestly can't remember.

Interpretations of dreams are always quite vague. I'm sure you can twist dreams to mean almost anything.
Dreams aren't supposed to mean what you would initially imagine.
I think that dreams about teeth, are supposed to represent money worries. I could be completely wrong but I think I heard that once.
Is there a reason that it couldn't mean that you're worried about losing teeth?

I recently had the pleasure of recalling a dream. It wasn't a pleasant one but the thing that really struck me/pissed me off, was that during the dream, somebody spoke to me. I didn't hear what they said and asked, 'What?'
My not hearing the comment, or what was said, had no relevance what soever!

When I woke and recalled this part of the dream, it aggravated the fuck out of me!
Why would my subconscious add this extra hurdle?
I know we often mishear, or just don't hear what people say, in real life but why the fuck would my mind add this unnecessary twist to dream?

It's a rhetorical question. If you have a theory, please keep it to yourself.

Sweet dreams  

English weather

I awoke this morning, strolled into the living room, and looked out of the window at the pouring rain.

I thought to myself, 'Well, there goes my plan to wash some sheets and hang them out on the line to dry.'

I went to the kitchen to make and eat breakfast. Made a cup of tea and went back to the living room, to be bathed in squintingly strong sunshine!

This kind of change always brings to mind, the old West Indian saying, 'Like da people dem.'

If it's not a phrase that you've heard, it just means that the English weather is very changeable, coincidently, very much like the English people.

I'm sitting here smiling to myself. It's often amusing to hear the explanation of the meaning of sayings.

I remember pissing myself laughing at somebody trying to explain, 'Duppy know who fe frighten', to a very English, middle aged woman.

I digress...

Luckily, or unluckily, I've lived in England long enough, to stop myself from rushing back to the kitchen to put those sheets in the washing machine. Give it another half an hour and it's sure to be pissing down again!

Our summer seems to now be over. Not just because of the rain. Rain in this country doesn't mean fuck all, as anybody who watches Wimbledon will tell you.

The sun has taken on a sharpness that is almost painful to my eyes. The summer sun has a kind of protective haze to it, that I never tire of.

Winter sun however, has an intensity to it, that is not unlike the bright light of an interrogation room!

I'll take that over rain most days though.

Living in England, you do grow accustomed to the rain, to a point.

However, I've reached an age where it becomes tiresome to get soaked through again and again.

Then again, if I'd paid more attention at school, maybe I could afford to live in a hot country.

But hey, it could be worse