It's that time of year again, the office party. It's interesting to reflect on how mine have changed over the years. Two have lead to marriage and one to divorce whilst in between have been all manner of fun times and horror stories.
It's not easy to pick out the best one I can remember, as some have been memorable but I can certainly choose the worst quite easily. I don't drink much nowadays, not particularly through choice but simply because I don't enjoy it the way I used to. The Christmas office party in 1979 started well. We had a good meal, three men and fourteen women. We drank and made merry, flirted and did all the usual things that happen when freedom and alcohol mix. I drank too much, far too much and the alcohol progressed from groin to gob.
When I have had too much to drink I become ridiculously honest and life becomes very simple. A work colleague has B.O.? Difficult when sober to broach the subject but easy when alcohol fuelled. We had a large Jewish woman in the office who was unpleasant 99% of the time. She wore thick glasses, woolly cardigans and capped it all off with an appalling curly wig which I, at first, thought was a hat it was so bad. You could see the lining at the front as it jutted out from under the horse hair.
Late in the evening I found myself sitting next to her. She was being her usual unpleasant snarly self when I decided it was a good idea to try to change her life style for the better. I can still hear myself saying it to her now.
"Blanche, why are always such an obnoxious sod? If you lost two or three stones, got rid of those horrible glasses and bought a decent wig you'd be quite nice looking" I went on after that but what words were exchanged are a blur.
The following day was my last in the office as I had resigned to take a new job in January. I did think of taking the cowards way out and not going in as soon as I remembered what had happened the night before. I couldn't do that. I felt so bad I had to face up and give a heartfelt grovelling apology. I was in the office before her and prepared myself. She boomed in as usual, took off her coat and sat at her desk. I was about to get up when she beat me to it and lumbered down the office to me. I stood up to speak but she raised her hand to stop me. I ignored her and started to apologise. She took no notice and stared at me before saying "You said some awful things to me last night" "I know" I replied "and I am disgusted with myself".
There was a short pause before she looked into my eyes and I saw her tears welling. "You know what was the worst?" she asked. I shook my head, prepared to take my punishment. "Every word you said was true".
She could not have said anything to make me feel worse. I felt humbled and small. I never saw her after that other than when when I left that day and she came over, wished me well and gave me a kiss. She was a much bigger and better person than I am.
Which brings my on to last night. There were about 200 in this marquee, all separate office parties. Our table was actually in front of the stage on the dance floor so we were surrounded once the music started. It was brilliant. Lots of young people, determined to enjoy themselves and we enjoyed being in their company. One, rather lovely girl took a shine to us and kept sitting with us, finally ending up insisting on having her photo taken with one of us. The cynic might say she was taking the piss, but she wasn't. She found us as entertaining as we found her and her friends.
What a shame that the Christmas spirit which crosses generations, soon melts into the harsh realities of another years toil ahead.
Sunday, 11 December 2011
Monday, 21 November 2011
Nothing in particular
It's a while since I added anything to my blog so I have been racking my brains in the hope that something inspirational would come to the fore and give me something to write about. Alas, nothing has happened that has given me cause to write so I decided I would write about nothing at all. You would think that it should be easy to write about nothing. After all, we spend a great deal of time doing nothing (except the more exciting amongst us who probably spend time thinking about doing something whilst they are doing nothing) but, despite this, I have found it quite difficult to write about nothing.
I thought it might help if I set out a list of nothings to write about and I listed them from 1 to 10. I only got as far as 1 (which became the title of this blog) and then, I ran out of ideas. I did, at this point, wonder if it was possible to walk out of ideas as opposed to running. If you are going to dry up why would you want to hurry there and make yourself feel even more inadequate? Surely it makes mores sense to walk out of ideas and I have decided that this is the method I shall adopt in future projects.
In summary, writing about nothing did give me something to write about even though it amounted to nothing at the end of it. If you have persisted in reading this far, you are either terminally bored or wondering if there is, after all going to be a point to this and, perhaps a superbly witty punchline. I am sorry to say you are going to be very disappointed as, what better way to finish an article about nothing is there than
I thought it might help if I set out a list of nothings to write about and I listed them from 1 to 10. I only got as far as 1 (which became the title of this blog) and then, I ran out of ideas. I did, at this point, wonder if it was possible to walk out of ideas as opposed to running. If you are going to dry up why would you want to hurry there and make yourself feel even more inadequate? Surely it makes mores sense to walk out of ideas and I have decided that this is the method I shall adopt in future projects.
In summary, writing about nothing did give me something to write about even though it amounted to nothing at the end of it. If you have persisted in reading this far, you are either terminally bored or wondering if there is, after all going to be a point to this and, perhaps a superbly witty punchline. I am sorry to say you are going to be very disappointed as, what better way to finish an article about nothing is there than
Friday, 4 November 2011
Cialis
I did make a promise on my "erectile dysfunction" post that I wouldn't give regular updates on events as it is not something I particularly want to remind myself, or others about but, Mrs Bats had an on line conversation with the wife of a fellow post op that deserves repeating.
He had surgery three years ago and ever since, has not been able to raise even a smile. He had become resigned to the fact that his copulating days were over and at least he could still use it to pee out of and keep his redundant testicles company. He had been taking the drug "Cialis" all this time, on a daily basis, but it seemed to have no effect. Most male readers will have had spam email from people trying to sell them Cialis on line. It is from the same drug family as Viagra and is apparently much sought after by men wishing to sustain the action a little longer and on demand.
As I said, the drug had not done a thing until, suddenly, a couple of weeks ago, it happened. He felt movement whilst in a supermarket with his wife and "boom" he had an erection you could have hung a horses saddle on. The erection was so strong and unexpected he began to panic. It became painful. he had to sit down as he wasn't able to set it free in the Ladies Lingerie aisle. In some pain he managed to get into the car and free the beast as his wife drove home.
They had read the leaflets and waited for a half an hour or so to see if it stopped. It didn't. They rang the hospital. They asked them if they had anything like frozen peas in the freezer. They did. They packed his willy with the produce and he sat, like an advert for toad in the hole for, wait for it, FOUR and a Half Hours before it finally gave way.
I can't help thinking he missed a business opportunity. He could have invited local frustrated women over and seen to them all without batting an eyelid. He could have used it to make doughnuts or let the local Darby and Joan club use him as a temporary hoop la sideshow. Joking aside, it couldn't have been much fun. I hope, if I have the same reaction, I will be at home. Knowing my luck I will be in the local primary school playground picking my Granddaughter up. If and when, I will let you know.
He had surgery three years ago and ever since, has not been able to raise even a smile. He had become resigned to the fact that his copulating days were over and at least he could still use it to pee out of and keep his redundant testicles company. He had been taking the drug "Cialis" all this time, on a daily basis, but it seemed to have no effect. Most male readers will have had spam email from people trying to sell them Cialis on line. It is from the same drug family as Viagra and is apparently much sought after by men wishing to sustain the action a little longer and on demand.
As I said, the drug had not done a thing until, suddenly, a couple of weeks ago, it happened. He felt movement whilst in a supermarket with his wife and "boom" he had an erection you could have hung a horses saddle on. The erection was so strong and unexpected he began to panic. It became painful. he had to sit down as he wasn't able to set it free in the Ladies Lingerie aisle. In some pain he managed to get into the car and free the beast as his wife drove home.
They had read the leaflets and waited for a half an hour or so to see if it stopped. It didn't. They rang the hospital. They asked them if they had anything like frozen peas in the freezer. They did. They packed his willy with the produce and he sat, like an advert for toad in the hole for, wait for it, FOUR and a Half Hours before it finally gave way.
I can't help thinking he missed a business opportunity. He could have invited local frustrated women over and seen to them all without batting an eyelid. He could have used it to make doughnuts or let the local Darby and Joan club use him as a temporary hoop la sideshow. Joking aside, it couldn't have been much fun. I hope, if I have the same reaction, I will be at home. Knowing my luck I will be in the local primary school playground picking my Granddaughter up. If and when, I will let you know.
Thursday, 3 November 2011
Benidorm
I didn't go with high expectations. Truthfully, I went with very low expectations. My expectations were justified. I assume it was either Nicolae Ceausescu or Mao Tse Tung who did the original design for the place. Mao once decreed that the colour green was bad for the soul and he made thousands of forced labourers paint green grass another colour. Ceausescu on the other hand was a concrete fanatic and set about demolishing centuries old villages and replacing them with monolithic concrete tower blocks. Both men would have been at home in Benidorm. We walked the full length of both bays many times during the week and found only one square of grass (about 100mtrs x 30 mtrs) in the whole place. This was fenced off of course in case anyone had the mad idea of trying to walk on it.
We went because it was late in the year and the hotel had 100% good feedback from trip advisor. It would be churlish of me to criticise the hotel but we won't be going back. It was modern, clean, comfortable and the staff were excellent but it was full of brits. As we looked out of our seventh floor balcony we had marvellous views of the seventh floors of the hotels opposite and either side of us. These had the effect of blocking the sun for a good 50% of it's daily life.
We managed one evening ( I say evening it was about 90 minutes) in the lounge. Just as Germans must be sick of the war being mentioned, surely we Brits have moved beyond bingo? I was gobsmacked as the game unfurled and, when a line was won, everyone sang along with Cliff Richards singing "congratulations". After that on came "Mickey and Griff type singers (youngsters google them) which was our signal to go to bed. We didn't venture in at night again. Had there been a fancy dress night, I am sure there would have been dozens turning up as either Steven Hawking or Stavros from Dr. Who due to the number of people using mobility scooters.
I have looked up a meaning for "Benidorm" and I would suggest that "Fat tattooed Brit" would be an apt description. I have never seen so many old people with them and fat people too idle to walk, driving along the prom on scooters. A guy a year or two older than us was chatting in the hotel and remarked it was their fifth year in a row at the resort and hotel. I can only assume it was some sort of community service sentence he was carrying out.
One thing I was thankful for was topless sunbathing is no longer fashionable. The sight of elderly women throwing them over their shoulders or tucking them into bikini bottoms would be too much to bare in both senses of the word. It is still fashionable however for men with 60 inch waists to proudly exhibit them to an appreciative public.
I apologise if any of you are fans of the place. It just wasn't for us. If ever I want a similar experience I will sit under a sun lamp in the middle of Manchester for a few days. Manchester would also be a good choice as three of the days we were there it pissed it down all day.
We went because it was late in the year and the hotel had 100% good feedback from trip advisor. It would be churlish of me to criticise the hotel but we won't be going back. It was modern, clean, comfortable and the staff were excellent but it was full of brits. As we looked out of our seventh floor balcony we had marvellous views of the seventh floors of the hotels opposite and either side of us. These had the effect of blocking the sun for a good 50% of it's daily life.
We managed one evening ( I say evening it was about 90 minutes) in the lounge. Just as Germans must be sick of the war being mentioned, surely we Brits have moved beyond bingo? I was gobsmacked as the game unfurled and, when a line was won, everyone sang along with Cliff Richards singing "congratulations". After that on came "Mickey and Griff type singers (youngsters google them) which was our signal to go to bed. We didn't venture in at night again. Had there been a fancy dress night, I am sure there would have been dozens turning up as either Steven Hawking or Stavros from Dr. Who due to the number of people using mobility scooters.
I have looked up a meaning for "Benidorm" and I would suggest that "Fat tattooed Brit" would be an apt description. I have never seen so many old people with them and fat people too idle to walk, driving along the prom on scooters. A guy a year or two older than us was chatting in the hotel and remarked it was their fifth year in a row at the resort and hotel. I can only assume it was some sort of community service sentence he was carrying out.
One thing I was thankful for was topless sunbathing is no longer fashionable. The sight of elderly women throwing them over their shoulders or tucking them into bikini bottoms would be too much to bare in both senses of the word. It is still fashionable however for men with 60 inch waists to proudly exhibit them to an appreciative public.
I apologise if any of you are fans of the place. It just wasn't for us. If ever I want a similar experience I will sit under a sun lamp in the middle of Manchester for a few days. Manchester would also be a good choice as three of the days we were there it pissed it down all day.
Tuesday, 18 October 2011
Dear sixteen year old me
Dear Me
I want to pass on a few things that have happened over the last forty plus years and let you know that you turned out reasonably well despite the ups an downs of life.
First things first. Your life will get better and the worries that now seem insurmountable to you, will fade. Let's start with girls. I have to remember that life and sex was very different for you. There was no internet, no adult videos or DVD's and T.V. was still very much in its infancy as far as portraying sex. I remember that, for you, sex didn't really exist.
First of all, don't fall in love with every girl who smiles at you. It tends to scare the shit out of them and any girl that responds to you in a similar way is probably just as desperate as you. I realise the hormones rushing around your body are sending out conflicting signals and your pyjamas are often like cardboard in a morning but your Mum will pretend not to notice so there's no need for that embarrassment. It's o.k to have one off the wrist too. All your mates are doing it and not letting on. One major thing to tell you. The kids who tell you they are shagging girls every night are telling lies. They are as confused and frustrated as you but don't want to admit it. Enjoy the company of girls. You won't be tongue tied for long and the ones that take the piss out of you aren't worth talking to anyway. One final thing. That girl who turned down the offer of a dance when it took you nearly an hour to pluck up the courage, she is not typical. I know it put you off forever but she was a cow. Most girls will say yes then move away at the end if no longer interested. Have fun and play the field. I do not mean be promiscuous. My tip? Look for an older girl and let her guide you along. You will learn something perhaps. If you decide to ignore all this, take my advice, when you go on a training course to London next year, and those two girls bang on your bedroom door inviting you to a threesome. Don't pretend you're asleep and, the following year, that girl in Scarborough who shows you a photo of her geeky boyfriend, then plays with your knee for an hour before inviting you to the beach, FFS go man! Finally, avoid that loony Welsh woman in 1976. She wasn't worth the hassle. watch "Play Misty for Me" and put yourself in the Clint Eastwood's place.
As far as everything else is concerned. Take advice. Don't be such a smart arse. You know nothing about life so stop pretending you do. Take some fashion advice. You have no dress sense at all and your hair style is awful. Make the most of being young. Forget about commitment and marriage until you are close to thirty and then think long and hard and make sure that whoever you are with is the right one for life. Now is the time to take risks with your job. Don't live with regret and not taking that job as you were not sure it was safe enough. You can do anything if you believe you can. Travel whenever you can. You will love it. Foreign food is not rubbish and you will grow to love it, even curry.
Finally. Make the most of your Mum and dad whilst they are still young. They are from a totally different time and your Dad in particular simply doesn't understand that the world has changed. They only want what is best for you. Follow this and life will bring you all the things I now look back on and regret. Life with regrets is not good for the soul.
I want to pass on a few things that have happened over the last forty plus years and let you know that you turned out reasonably well despite the ups an downs of life.
First things first. Your life will get better and the worries that now seem insurmountable to you, will fade. Let's start with girls. I have to remember that life and sex was very different for you. There was no internet, no adult videos or DVD's and T.V. was still very much in its infancy as far as portraying sex. I remember that, for you, sex didn't really exist.
First of all, don't fall in love with every girl who smiles at you. It tends to scare the shit out of them and any girl that responds to you in a similar way is probably just as desperate as you. I realise the hormones rushing around your body are sending out conflicting signals and your pyjamas are often like cardboard in a morning but your Mum will pretend not to notice so there's no need for that embarrassment. It's o.k to have one off the wrist too. All your mates are doing it and not letting on. One major thing to tell you. The kids who tell you they are shagging girls every night are telling lies. They are as confused and frustrated as you but don't want to admit it. Enjoy the company of girls. You won't be tongue tied for long and the ones that take the piss out of you aren't worth talking to anyway. One final thing. That girl who turned down the offer of a dance when it took you nearly an hour to pluck up the courage, she is not typical. I know it put you off forever but she was a cow. Most girls will say yes then move away at the end if no longer interested. Have fun and play the field. I do not mean be promiscuous. My tip? Look for an older girl and let her guide you along. You will learn something perhaps. If you decide to ignore all this, take my advice, when you go on a training course to London next year, and those two girls bang on your bedroom door inviting you to a threesome. Don't pretend you're asleep and, the following year, that girl in Scarborough who shows you a photo of her geeky boyfriend, then plays with your knee for an hour before inviting you to the beach, FFS go man! Finally, avoid that loony Welsh woman in 1976. She wasn't worth the hassle. watch "Play Misty for Me" and put yourself in the Clint Eastwood's place.
As far as everything else is concerned. Take advice. Don't be such a smart arse. You know nothing about life so stop pretending you do. Take some fashion advice. You have no dress sense at all and your hair style is awful. Make the most of being young. Forget about commitment and marriage until you are close to thirty and then think long and hard and make sure that whoever you are with is the right one for life. Now is the time to take risks with your job. Don't live with regret and not taking that job as you were not sure it was safe enough. You can do anything if you believe you can. Travel whenever you can. You will love it. Foreign food is not rubbish and you will grow to love it, even curry.
Finally. Make the most of your Mum and dad whilst they are still young. They are from a totally different time and your Dad in particular simply doesn't understand that the world has changed. They only want what is best for you. Follow this and life will bring you all the things I now look back on and regret. Life with regrets is not good for the soul.
Tuesday, 11 October 2011
The Lottery
I see today that the latest Euro millions winners have decided to go public. I can only assume that serious pressure is put on them to take this drastic step. For the rest of their lives they will no longer be Mr and Mrs xyz but "101 million pound lottery winners xyz" They must be mad. They will be besieged with requests both genuine and bogus for years to come which, unless you particularly enjoy reading sad stories, will at best cause them to reflect on their good fortune.
I would never ever agree to going public on a major win. I would want the time in private to decide how best to spend my new found fortune and who should and should not benefit. It reflects, I suppose, my personality. I am a background boy. I hate being the front man. I like to be the one in the shadows, pulling the strings, not the one dancing to the tune. Probably half a dozen times on twitter I have been asked to consider doing stand up. Whilst flattering it is the biggest joke of all. Give me an audience and I'll give you unbridled fear. I don't even like to show any of my stuff to friends.
Twitter is perfect for people like me. You can be "up front" but, should the mood take you, you can disappear without a trace and be forgotten within days. That's how I like it. I don't mind a mug shot. I have a forgettable face. If required you can invent an alter ego and relaunch under a new identity. Effectively you can be all you perhaps would like to be in the real world without the anxiety than comes with it.
I wish the lottery winners happiness. I hope they put my letter requesting a donation for my "regrow the prostate" charity. I miss it and the happy times we had together. It will be a real tear jerker.
I would never ever agree to going public on a major win. I would want the time in private to decide how best to spend my new found fortune and who should and should not benefit. It reflects, I suppose, my personality. I am a background boy. I hate being the front man. I like to be the one in the shadows, pulling the strings, not the one dancing to the tune. Probably half a dozen times on twitter I have been asked to consider doing stand up. Whilst flattering it is the biggest joke of all. Give me an audience and I'll give you unbridled fear. I don't even like to show any of my stuff to friends.
Twitter is perfect for people like me. You can be "up front" but, should the mood take you, you can disappear without a trace and be forgotten within days. That's how I like it. I don't mind a mug shot. I have a forgettable face. If required you can invent an alter ego and relaunch under a new identity. Effectively you can be all you perhaps would like to be in the real world without the anxiety than comes with it.
I wish the lottery winners happiness. I hope they put my letter requesting a donation for my "regrow the prostate" charity. I miss it and the happy times we had together. It will be a real tear jerker.
Thursday, 29 September 2011
Erectile Disfunction
If ever there was a headline grabber, that is it (discounting Katie Price, Big Brother and the Beckhams). Do you know any man with this problem? I don't yet is it very common in men over 40 (and under) it seems. I suppose it is a brave man who will admit to anyone other than his partner (who might possibly have already guessed) that they "can't get it up".
Regular readers will have been probably both bored or interested in equal measure with my tweets and blog on the prostate cancer. As far as men are concerned, the big long term problem post op is E.D. The operation removes a precious part of the equipment that all men take for granted and it can depend on the skill of the surgeon whether full function is restored. Having said that, full function will never be restored as the organ that produced seminal fluid is in a dustbin somewhere, gathering dust (for many men, just as it was before it was removed :)). Depending on the spread of the cancer, the nerves that supply the blood to enable erection can be spared or removed. In my case, as I delayed the operation by eighteen months, it spread into the nerves on one side,so they had to go.
Depending on the health authority you are under, drugs are administered six weeks after the operation to speed up the healing process and increase blood supply to the affected areas. Sad to say, many men have a battle to have these drugs prescribed, not a problem fortunately with my local health authority.
I must admit I was quite intrigued when I read the leaflet (or rather Janet did) to see what the effects and possible side effects are. One in particular reads "In the event of an erection lasting for more than four hours, you are advised to visit your local A & E department for treatment". I advised Janet that in the event of a four hour erection, I would be making my way down to the local girls sixth form college.
I am not embarrassed to be writing about this problem. I had no choice other than to have an operation and the possible ramifications afterwards. In some cases function never returns. That is a bleak prospect. O.K. at almost sixty, your best years are behind you but I liken the problem to having skis. I have a set of carvers which were expensive at the time, but, usually spend 51 weeks of the year in a cupboard. In the event of snow however, I at least have the option of using them. It's the same with sex. It may not happen very often, but if the opportunity arises (pardon the pun) I like to have the option.
It is early days for me. The average recovery times seems to be 12 to 18 months which seems a long way away right now. As a natural flirt I cannot pretend I don't miss the usual feelings but, at the moment, the relief at no longer having cancer outweighs everything else. One poster on a forum I visit has written that his wife has been completely unable to come to terms (again no pun intended) with his impotency and his marriage is struggling. If that is the case, his marriage couldn't have been as strong as he thought it was before his diagnosis.
You will be relieved to know (as will my wife) that I will not be posting regular updates on my progress. Some things are best kept behind closed doors. However, the more astute amongst you may one day notice a change in my posting style. Hopefully it will be sooner than later.
Regular readers will have been probably both bored or interested in equal measure with my tweets and blog on the prostate cancer. As far as men are concerned, the big long term problem post op is E.D. The operation removes a precious part of the equipment that all men take for granted and it can depend on the skill of the surgeon whether full function is restored. Having said that, full function will never be restored as the organ that produced seminal fluid is in a dustbin somewhere, gathering dust (for many men, just as it was before it was removed :)). Depending on the spread of the cancer, the nerves that supply the blood to enable erection can be spared or removed. In my case, as I delayed the operation by eighteen months, it spread into the nerves on one side,so they had to go.
Depending on the health authority you are under, drugs are administered six weeks after the operation to speed up the healing process and increase blood supply to the affected areas. Sad to say, many men have a battle to have these drugs prescribed, not a problem fortunately with my local health authority.
I must admit I was quite intrigued when I read the leaflet (or rather Janet did) to see what the effects and possible side effects are. One in particular reads "In the event of an erection lasting for more than four hours, you are advised to visit your local A & E department for treatment". I advised Janet that in the event of a four hour erection, I would be making my way down to the local girls sixth form college.
I am not embarrassed to be writing about this problem. I had no choice other than to have an operation and the possible ramifications afterwards. In some cases function never returns. That is a bleak prospect. O.K. at almost sixty, your best years are behind you but I liken the problem to having skis. I have a set of carvers which were expensive at the time, but, usually spend 51 weeks of the year in a cupboard. In the event of snow however, I at least have the option of using them. It's the same with sex. It may not happen very often, but if the opportunity arises (pardon the pun) I like to have the option.
It is early days for me. The average recovery times seems to be 12 to 18 months which seems a long way away right now. As a natural flirt I cannot pretend I don't miss the usual feelings but, at the moment, the relief at no longer having cancer outweighs everything else. One poster on a forum I visit has written that his wife has been completely unable to come to terms (again no pun intended) with his impotency and his marriage is struggling. If that is the case, his marriage couldn't have been as strong as he thought it was before his diagnosis.
You will be relieved to know (as will my wife) that I will not be posting regular updates on my progress. Some things are best kept behind closed doors. However, the more astute amongst you may one day notice a change in my posting style. Hopefully it will be sooner than later.
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