An end to navel -gazing

"He was black, so he might have pulled a knife out"

I see racism's on the increase. Reform - the party for the modern Daily Express reader - seems to have more batshit crazy councillors than Labour and the Conservatives combined.

And with batshit populism on the rise everywhere, it seems to have gifted the bigoted and the dim with a green light to air their prejudices, all in the name of Free Speech.

The other day a dog walker told me her daughter lives in Bristol, and her dog was attacked by a larger dog, but because the owner was black he may have pulled a knife on her so she just had to back away.

Obviously a large out of control dog is one thing. Like the dogs in question, the owners are often a 'type' .

We think of drug-dealing gangsters, but again these can be of any ethnicity. 

Why she felt the need to mention his skin colour when the majority of knife crime is black on black, to me is just racism.

It's like when you hear the phrase 'black bastard', as though the blackness of the person's skin had any bearing on his bastardness.

That's why the police mentioned that it was a white man who drove into a crowd of Liverpool football fans, as with social media had it been even mentioned that it was a brown person, the racist mob may have descended into violence, like last summer when a disturbed teenager who it was rumoured was Muslim but it turned out was not, stabbed some children to death in a nursery in Southport. 

These are scary times we live in. It feels like we're in a powder keg and one spark on social media is all it ever needs.

And it's all part of free speech. 

Which should of course come with responsibility.

The Beautiful Cathedral City of Wells...

Wells is a proper old Medieval town - and one of the smallest cities in England. It gets its city status purely by having its own cathedral.

There are plenty of stonemasons earning a living in these here parts, so I wanted to show some of the utterly shite repairs.

Someone has presumably ticked the 'okay' box and paid money for these.

This joker's used a stone repair mix instead of mortar, and it's already failed

Same again.

Obviously some left in his bucket.

Nothing like having pride in your job is there? Could have used a sponge.

Yes, that is a Grade 1 listed 850 year old cathedral behind. But who cares?

Wrong colour, too wet, and then they just leave it.

When you can do something to a certain level of proficiency and you have pride in your work, to see crap like this, you just think "What's the point?"

What is the point of me having dedicated all these years, thousands of hours, into a craft when shit like this earns people a living?

My family are musicians. My Dad still can't understand how people who could barely play could make so much money in pop music. 

Why do a good job when the people signing it off either haven't a clue what they're looking at or just couldn't care less?

And the thing is it's everywhere. For example, look at some of the new builds and see how poor some of the bricklaying is.

It's not as difficult as you'd think to make something look right, but it does take time and concentration.

I've seen some shocking work be praised by people who should know better. Even awarded with OBEs (Other Buggers' Efforts) and conservation awards. 

What is the point, indeed.

DMing the kids at Pilton

This was hard work. I'm still pretty kernackered 5 days later. 

One and a half days of prep, then 2 days of running the game with a large group of 6 kids - age range 12-16. 

That's a big range if you think back to when you were that old.

And then throw in a bag of neuro-diversity.

The youngest had quite a high level of ADHD and by the end of the 2nd day he was really getting on the edge of everyone's tolerance, but we got through it.

I had a massive tension headache, then took one ibuprofen and slept for 11 hours. 

Ah well. It's what I live for...

Dancing?? on a Saturday???

Ugh! You bastard.

I admit, it was me, in the White Hart, last Saturday. 

Boppin' about like a right Bertie. 

I think it was grab a granny night, as we used to call them.

Some joker called me a pirate on the Facebook post. 

I can see why.

As lovely old Dick van Dyke said: 

'Sing like no one's listening; dance like no one's watching.'

Gyles Brandreth in The Times, said: 

“Stop thinking about yourself. I find this one hard. We’ve all turned our lives into one big selfie. Breaking the mirror won’t give you seven years’ bad luck; it’ll add seven years to your life because happy people live seven to ten years longer.”

Good advice I think.

But what the hell am I going to do now??

T-shirt of the week

The Disclaimer T

Miss Perkins will see you now...

A life in a day

I love lying in bed when I've just awoken, pressing the snooze button on my alarm 5 or 6 times. 

The perfect warmth under the duvet. Stillness. No one asking me to do anything. Listening to the birdsong, in the distance a terrier barks, and the low hum of vehicles passing by. 

Crunching of gravel as our neighbour prepares for work. Any time between 10 minutes and an hour I shall get up. What a shame to have to get up at all.

Then I become aware of the ever-present tinnitus in my left ear - a very high-pitched tone that sounds almost like central heating.

Pills, pills....100mgs of Sertraline, 30mgs of Nifedipine, Vitamin B complex, Vitamim D, Lions Mane, and a soluble Vitamin C.

Always blocked up - spray some saltwater up there. I am a martyr to my sinuses. It's hereditary. I can hear my parents blowing their noses - they sound like elephants.

Breakfast is a glass of worthy green sludge, a bowl of porridge made with water with a spoonful of real honey and plump blueberries on top. 

I have to have breakfast with my headphones on to avoid the television and its rolling news; a cafetière of smooth coffee and a carton of oat milk, then go through the paper starting with the columnists I give a shit about, thereafter working through the news.

Someone's taking someone to court over a boundary issue...World News, get 7 out 15 on the quiz, then YouTube. Any NRL matches? What's Trump done now?

I walk Tomos. Meet Herb and his dog Daisy, get ignored by Dame Joan (still don't know what I've done - my feelings alternate between loathing and laughter), get the next instalment of Gillian's Mexican soap-opera life, bump into multiple others. 

Some of us humans know each others' names now - we all know the dogs' names before we know each others'.

Spend too much time on YouTube. Get angry. My version of Tik Tok.

Must write more adventures. I'm rediscovering my writing side, my creativity having been strangled by years of institutional education. 

An ember still lies there. Must get the bellows out and some twigs. Need to work on this.

I almost forget lunch. It's a powdered Huel drink. Some people say it tastes of cheesy feet. I quite like it.

Snacks are shortbread biscuits or Bahlsen chocolate biscuits washed down with a mug of tea. Maybe a banana and an orange too.

Do a shop. Go to the supermarket every day. If I'm cooking for all of us I'll get a marinated spatchcock chicken, roast some veg and have some couscous with it. Other than that I'll eat on my own; pasta with a ton of spinach, or a pizza with a ton of chilli oil.

Might go for a walk in the afternoon but avoid the pubs. Don't want to start all that again. I want to keep the moderate drinking going.

Evening might be gaming online or I'll watch a film or some documentaries. Went to the local cinema last week with Nerys and watched A Complete Unknown with Timothée Chalamet as Bob Dylan. It was great. Must go more often.

Repeat.

Pushing Envelopes, pulling pints

Rupert visiting for the day, Suzy down for the previous weekend with her eldest daughter, playing online with Adrian, Larry and the other goblins as well as Sacha, Tim , Boyd and Eddie. 2 days of DMing with the kids in Pilton (see below) then writing a brand new adventure for the Wells lot for a one shot. 

Going to London to do a talk to 10-15 MSc students only 6 turned up and only one asked any questions. It was okay though.

Almost every day there was something on. And I just can't do that without paying the price anymore.

So on Tuesday 25th I woke up late with a cold. First cold I've had in 2 years. And it's a stinker. Still got it just as bad a fortnight (that's UK English for 2 weeks) later. 

I've barely left the house.

The oldies never got it. But I'm still very good with hand-washing and staying out of other humans' way.

So I'm off to see the duty nurse who, apparently, is very rude. And I'm so tired.

Too much gaming?

2 days of DMing in Pilton. The kids. You know. But there's a big age difference between 11 and 14, and it showed at times, with the older kids getting annoyed at the dumb stuff the young 'uns were doing.

It's supposed to be a collaborative, team effort you see.

One evening of playing on Zoom. We're playing D&D in realmspace. I won't go into details: it's all top-secret stuff.

One and a half days of writing a one-shot adventure. 

I wrote one the week before last, based on Wizard of Oz and Beauty and The Beast, with the screenplay in the manner of HP Lovecraft.

This week's was a time-travel extravaganza which I've always wanted to write. Being me there is zero method. I start at the beginning and bumble through to the end, changing stuff as I go, confusing the shit out of myself and writing the dialogue as the characters seem to emerge embryonically as I go.

The plot reveals itself as I overcome every hurdle. I would publish it but I nick everything so there'd be multiple copyright issues. Hitchhikers' Guide, multiple Alan Moore comic strips, Star Trek, evil toad-like tyrant (Trump obviously) and populated by the anomalous denizens of Drakkenheim, with a certain Hollywood blockbuster ending.

Run in one 3 hour session for Hannah and Katy.

They said it was probably the best adventure they'd ever played. But then again Carlsburg is probably the best lager in the world. (Hint: It's not.)

I particularly enjoyed roleplaying the AI Moulinex T3000 Food replicator.

You had to be there.

 Songs from the shower of insanity.

Singing "Oh Mr Grimble and his magical pants..." The theme song of a 1970s sitcom THAT NEVER EXISTED.

Interspersed with superfluous disclaimers/caveats of "I'm mad!! I'm mad!!"

What must the neighbours think? Lol

Shouting out "MY WINKLE'S SHRUNK!"

Well, it has a bit. But winkle-shrinkle is a thing at my age.

It's still scarily massive though.

Oh yes.

I'm 55.

That's my winkle, that is.

A-frolicking and a-prancing in Wells

Great British Breakfast

Marvellous breakfast. Coffee was terrific - perfect strength and oatmilk-to-coffee ratio. Left the extra-large blueberries in the honeyed porridge just long enough to slightly stew them and take the sharpness away.

Gurt lush.

Kemi Badenoch has just been declared Conservative party leader.  The party of Disraeli, Churchill, Macmillan, Thatcher and Truss have elected the first black leader of any main political party.

I don't think Labour will even elect a woman leader for decades. There are reasons for this, and the main of which is the dyed-in-the-wool sexism of Trade Unions who still select the candidates.

Matthew Syed of The Times wrote an article where he applied to become a Labour Party candidate. Articulate, intelligent, reasonable - yet to apply in Labour you have to be approved by each table representing different sections of the party. 

I guess he was a bit too posh for some.

By contrast Matthew Parris, also of The Times and a former Conservative MP, wrote that when it comes to defining The Conservative Party, it isn't ruled by political ideology but rather it defines itself by what it isn't. So they do it by saying 'we don't like what Labour is doing' so they push back against it.

I guess that's a bit like defining what Britishness is: we say what it isn't, which is why Trump disgusts us so much. 

He is the antithesis of Britishness at its best.

Halloween, Shmalloween...

Being a misery guts I don't do the American 6-week festival of Halloween. 

Rather like being oblivious of that tennis tournament in SW London every June/July when I was organising my 50th birthday party, when hotel prices go up to £900/night.

I didn't even think to do a Halloween-themed adventure for Dungeons and Dragons at Pilton this year,. 

It just passes me by. Rather like Harry Potter.

So this half-term thanks to Edspired Tutoring, I ran an oldie but a goody. 

Nice team of kids too. Smart, enthusiastic, friendly and funny.

I tried to prepare by reading and making notes but it just was not happening. I found it impossible to knuckle down and get stuck in to the text. 

So I winged it. Again, having picked an adventure which I'd run 3-4 times before it was much easier to just run straight out of the book.

It went really well.

I think.

Indulgence

Look at this. While the 6 week festival of Halloween drags on some bright sparks had the idea of making themed drinks. This is Northern Monk's Witches Fingers - that's their spelling not mine.

Yes, it is actually that colour.

It's just food colouring, rather than eye of newt and lark's vomit.

Friends Reunited

Sarah, The Arty Teacher. 

I realised that throughout my pretensions of trying to be cool, Sarah and I were actually quite similar. We were both bored by 80% of schoolwork and did pretty much the minimum. Well, if you've got Ernie going up and down the playing field mowing the grass, it's far more interesting and soothing (hypnotic even) than learning German grammar or balancing some equation or other.

Both of us found revision for exams almost impossible, and duly did badly in our A-Levels.

I wonder if we're similarly neurologically diverse?

Haven't changed in 30 years. Well, Sarah hasn't...

To think, it's 30 odd years ago. We reminded each other of things we found excruciatingly embarrassing we'd said or done when we were...kids, essentially. But having been in contact over the last few years again, this was the first time we'd seen each in the flesh. 

We did the Cathedral, Vicars' Close and Bishop's Palace. Proper tourists we were.

Sarah has a business in which she provides teaching resources to a global client base. 

Check out the website. It really is something else.

Shelley who is so tiny that if it wasn't for her glorious hair and smile she would not be visible to the human eye.

She has the health of about 3 normal humans. She glows with wellness.

We laugh a lot. I like making her laugh. 

I always did. 

Then she said she'd seen something really profound while on a school trip in Sierra Leone, and she communicated it in a way that I suddenly felt the profundity too. 

What was it? 

A little boy, malnourished, stopped and stared for about 10 minutes at children in a private school playing football. It was as though he realised with his little 7 year old mind that he would never be part of that world. 

Suddenly the mood had changed, and hearing the immortal words of Alan Partridge ('I want to keep it lite...') I said something dumb, and we were back to normal again. 

Phew. 

Clare is the adult who accompanies me from time-to-time. 

We went to a cafe and I saw it had Basque Cheesecake on the menu. OMG - last had that at Brat  years ago. Best cheesecake ever, and I AM AN EXPERT.

It was nearly £5 a slice and while it was delicious it was about half the portion we were expecting. 

Mmn. 

I felt that was a bit mean. We wandered around through the autumn leaves and got another coffee then walked home. 

Clare's dog passed away recently, which is very sad. She is very laid back (she always was) and I can't imagine the stress she's been under recently what with her dog, moving house and stuff.

We talked about the awful things women do to their bodies - Brazilian butt-lifts, botox, filler and other implants and injectifications. 

Big old ugly duck lips. 

One of the things that women often have conversations about is 'What would you change about your body?'

Talk about fuelling self-loathing.

I thought about it. As a bloke, you're paranoid about the size of your John Thomas, my head's too large, and I'm rather puny. But those are things I can't do anything about. 

Perhaps I should change my sense of anxiety to that of contentment - be accepting of who I am and how I look. 

Yes - contentment. That's the part I want to change. 

It's a brain-thing, not a body-thing.

This week made me realise that I spend too much time on my own. 

I need the company of people more than I realise.

Mods

A lot of computer-based - and lately console games - have become open-sourced (is that the right phrase?). That is, opening up the innards of their games allowing clever people to add code to enhance the gaming experience. 

For example, they will update the graphics and make them higher in resolution, or add bonus content to the site in the form of extra adventures or crazy daft things - one of which is turning dragons into Thomas the Tank Engines.

The modding community, on their way to work.

Skyrim is the most modded game of all time. It was released in 2011 and I thought it was amazing, but time has taken its toll and it looks very dated indeed with its blurry, dull graphics and limited voices (very few actors playing all the rolls) and dialogues. 

There's not much that can be done about the latter, but it is astonishing what modders have achieved (if you ignore some of the more teenaged attempts...) with additional plots and stories, the use of additional voice actors and all the graphics enhancements.

(Vanilla = original)

I know I should be doing the cleaning and stuff... 

I'm actually looking forward to playing D&D with other adults soon as we haven't done a proper session in over a MONTH!

Shocking.

But I want to end on this enigmatic photograph which I imagine was taken in either Regent's or St James's Park.

What does/can it mean?

Caption competition?