I'm not really in the people-space at the moment

"I'm not really a person-person"

Tom, in The Rise and Fall of Reginald Perrin. A sit-com so profound in its concept and brilliant in its writing and characters that it had a huge impact on me from a young age.

A wonderful Ronnie Hazlehurst theme tune too.

If you don't know, it's about an executive having a nervous breakdown. An existential crisis.
Very 70s. People were questioning the nature of our societal structures, what humans actually need to be fulfilled.

Reggie

It started in the counter culture of the late 60s, fuelled by radical thinkers, and among other things spawned the self-sufficiency movement which was also the basis of The Good Life, another highly successful BBC sit-com, in the golden age of British TV.

Not really the stuff of comedy, you'd think.

But it's an amazing piece of writing, with astounding characters who are caricatures of people we all know - the super confident Tony, the bag of nerves who is David, the tyrannical Boss CJ and the annoying pseudo-intellectual son-in-law Tom, who dutifully delivers a sprout wine on visiting and pipe smokes while uttering comments on everything.

A bit like me but with a pipe...

"I didn't get where I am today without having champagne not much just enough"

“I didn't get where I am today by selling ice cream tasting of bookends, pumice stone and West Germany.”

It's just wonderful surreal, profound, maddening. A sitcom that takes you to a place few others would dare: an existential cliff-edge.

Perhaps “One foot in the grave” trod similar territory

Talking of the catchphrases, you can read them here

Anyway, all this is a segue from my own condition which has been to isolate myself over the last few days.

It goes like that in the dementia space. I have long periods where I’m relatively social, and then I pay the price where I just can’t handle other people.

Trying to break it down - you - YOU - people just get in the way, physically. When I’m walking down the street, or queueing. Big blobs of matter talking incessantly, not paying attention, dawdling and meandering.

Would you do that on a motorway?

Children having fun but screaming in excitement.

Dumb males with overly loud combustion-engined vehicles.

People asking me questions, or to do things when I’m having difficulty even completing a sentence.

Too hot - I’m just trying to keep cool, trying to maintain a breeze going through the room.

Too bright as well. Bring me the gloom any time.

Reseal the bunker!

“Can I sit here?”

Sure. As long as you don’t talk to me, and don’t you dare put your phone on speaker and have a loud conversation, you self-important shit.

I will attack you with hot liquids.

Bloody exhibitionist.

I'm forgetting more words and the brain-fog is getting more opaque.

Waitrose and Death

Obnoxious ignoramus at the supermarket. Wouldn't help me at the self-help queue. A pesky garlic was failing to declare itself in my shopping bag.

He ignored me for a while as I waved at him.

Eventually he came over and chided me for not knowing what to do.

"Thank you soooo much." I replied as he walked away.

"You're welcome."

Cheeky cxxt.

As I walked out he had his back to me. The temptation to headbutt him hard where the spine meets the base of his skull to cause him irreparable damage was quite powerful, but then I realised that in the future I will still need that lovely Nduja pasta sauce which only Waitrose do, so I thought better of it.


Genuine life-saver.

Games Night

Been DMing for 13 sessions of our new campaign. It’s modular (i.e. made up of separate smaller adventures) rather than a colossal epic-style single campaign and it certainly seems to be going down well.

We’ve increased the player numbers to 5 now. We may have special guest stars such as Richard Basehart or Karl Marlden now and again just for the odd session.

It takes longer to put together now, and I never feel 100% on top of it any more, like I used to. So I just go with it. I also write down encounters like “Worst bandits ever” and just use my roleplaying skills to improvise it and it seems to do the trick.

The next day is always a write-off though.

In fact this weekend and last and the one before that I’ve just slept for 10-11 hours straight on the Saturday and Sunday and been even more useless than normal.

I can still run a good game though. And that’s what keeps me going.

Sharing is caring

I’m still struggling…

All that sunlight, summer cape-dresses and ice cream. Ghastly.

Make it go away!

Crawl back to the coolness of the cave and its screens where I can kill things with impunity…

I got tired of throwing Marjory out of the window. She came back in and I thought what the hell.
She keeps herself to herself.

Very hairy legs though.

Call me old-fashioned.
I felt sorry for her.

Chivalry is not dead!

Marjory

Summer Ranting (and worrying)

Enforced Enjoyment

People in cafés and pubs dictating how I react to their product.

They serve the food then qualify it with ‘Enjoy’.

An affectation which has crept insidiously into the service industry.

Is it an instruction? 

You MUST enjoy this mediocre sweetmeat! Or else!

Perhaps I should cheerfully wish you ‘death’ upon serving your knickerbocker glory?

Don’t you tell me what to ‘enjoy’. Who do you think you are? If it’s good I shall be in receipt of an enjoyment. 

That is an inevitability.

If not, I shan't be in receipt of any form of enjoyment.

‘Enjoy your boxers!’

Sure! Enjoy my deep loathing of you!

Jargon. Like ‘Going forward…’ 

Repeat any sentence ever spoken with that phrase but elide those 2 words, and see that it adds nothing.

Mindless.

Scum.

Hiding from the Hairdressers at The Dorchester

Many years ago...at possibly my lowest ebb - and if you read this blog you'll know I've had a few ebbs like that - I was working in the office of a hairdressing/day spa.

It hurts just to admit this, to type those words - 'day spa'.

It was fucking awful.

The grifter who ran it (and it is an industry of grifters) had bought rights to a big hairdressing expo, and he got a former employee who'd fled to America to run it. 

It was insane. 

Said person got a friend she'd met at the pub to assist her. Pub-person was unbelievably irritating, and had no clue how to use a computer. 

Me and the other person in the office were kept out of the loop.

On the day of the event at The Dorchester, grifter decided to destroy her seating plan, and scores of attendees went ballistic at her. She had a nervous breakdown. 

I later found out this was a pattern of behaviour for her - take a high-octane job from grifter, don't share it, then get hospitalised. 

Nuts.

So I then dealt with the hairdressers, who were so visually ludicrous and deluded of grandeur that I had to bite my cheek as I couldn't take any of them seriously. That made life very easy.

Ludicrous yet terrifying

The 8th floor of The Dorchester compared to the lower floors is like a dorm. It's like most hotels in London were in the 1970s - so in need of an update as to be a national embarrassment.

I hid under the bed for about 3-4 hours. People came in looking for me, I saw their feet and heard their conversations. 

I'm never one to shirk a party or a free drink, but I just couldn't bear these people.

It was one of the best decisions I've ever made, hiding under that bed. It was so nice and peaceful, as I didn't have to suffer the dumb conversations of coke-fueled twats. 

Organiser and her mate from the pub awarded themselves a suite each - £1,500/night? Pub irritant and her beige-suited, slip-on shoed boyfriend left with almost the entire contents of the room - bathrobes, towels, mini-bar etc.

They do actually bill you for these things.

I only mention this as I'd almost forgotten it until I mentioned it casually to my friend Mark.

I've always been a bit strange, I guess.

Empty days 

One day looks very much like the other. So much so I'm seldom writing in my diary anymore. 

Walked Tomos, ate porridge, caught up with YouTubers and Times, went to town, played D&D/went to pub as a daily routine gets a bit monotonous.

Then a couple of days ago I woke up (which is almost always a plus) and the world span, and I flopped down on the bed. 

I hadn't had a drop the previous night. Honest.

I wondered what the hell was going on. My first thought was, is it dementia-related?

Apparently poor balance is a late-stage of dementia. I'm not at a late stage.

So is it a stroke? Or something else neurological?

Later in the day hives would appear on my hands and feet - my post Sertraline guide to my stress-level.

A couple of days later I confided my dizziness to my sister - it's vertigo, most probably caused by calcium deposits which have come loose in the ear. 

I've made a doctor's appointment but due to the increased size of Wells's population, I'm having to wait a month!

So I lay down on the bed and rolled on both sides to find out which side I instigated the dizziness, did some exercises and it's helping. 

Phew.

At least I know it's not dementia-related. That made me sleep easier.

(And some of the hives go away.)

New D&D Campaign

I'm running a brand new Dungeons and Dragons campaign called Quests from the Infinite Staircase. It's essentially a bunch of 40+ year old modular adventures, all updated to the current 5th edition rules.

Under 18s, as I've found out from running said games at Pilton 6 times a year, don't like the old games so much. They're used to narrative and role-playing, and there is certainly less of that in the old adventures.

I'll explain. Old adventures had little plot. Most of the time you would chance upon them like an old tomb for instance, enter and open a series of rooms each of which would have a random monster in, kill the monster, nick its treasure, and repeat. There was almost zero logic to the randomness of the creatures, as to why they were there, what they did in downtime, where they prepared their food, where they went to the toilet, and a lack of communal areas or canteen where the gelatinous cubes, goblins and shadow demons (or whoever else might be in the dungeon) could get together to discuss their days or watch Countdown.

It was really like opening the door of an advent calendar, with a different result each time.

These are generally referred to now as 'funhouse' dungeons. There's no particular logic to them - they just exist.

Modern adventures tend to have an overarching narrative and structure, with the randomness excluded.

I'm trying to make the experience more visceral for the players by expanding on the written content with embellishments - personal quests such as looking for long-lost family members, heirlooms, or being on the run, which I've developed with the players - and trying to expand the personalities of the non-player characters or NPCs who the players will meet on their adventures, to make them real or at least 3 dimensional.

We had a terrific session zero where we worked on the characters, which will of course add to the fun when they are role-played by the players, because their motivations, flaws, traits and idiosyncrasies will  be more real, as opposed to say, playing a fighter who hits stuff and simply works for 'coin'.

I'm looking forward to Thursday.

And so is Nafas the genie, who runs the Infinite Staircase.

Fizzy Brains

Pigeon Holes (or lack thereof)

I've heard barristers describing the brain working like a set of pigeon holes. Really clever people have more than others - each holding vast amounts of information and FACTS (remember them?) to be accessed on a need-to basis. 

As soon as they take on another case the pigeon holes they used for the previous case are emptied and filled with the new information so they become an expert in the new case. 

That's a well-oiled brain.

On a good day, I have probably 2 pigeon holes. Which is why when a task is undertaken and someone asks me something, I can be immediately derailed and the thing I was going to do is long forgotten, or the object I was holding lost, discarded.

I have to replay my previous steps and actions in order to find my iPad, book, keys or whatever it was I was holding, when , for instance, someone asked me a question that wasn't related to what I was doing.

A highly inefficient way to be, constantly looking for your stuff.

This is what my life was like in the last few years of work. It was just hopeless. Having to concentrate on the job in hand and remind myself what I was supposed to be doing. I needed to do everything with blinkers on - tunnel-vision - staring Linford Christie-like at the finish line. 

Any distractions and the vision and job in hand are lost. 

Start again.

People still ask me if I'm going to return to stonemasonry. It's difficult to explain to them how exhausting it can be just to get a job done as it requires so much more conscious awareness - concentration - to complete relatively simple tasks - and with that comes the mental tiredness.

I'm drooling more and more from the right hand side of my gob. This is a dementia symptom believe it or not.

So no, I'm really not in a position to return to work. 

Ever.

Goblins Reunited

Yesterday I went to Dragonmeet, which is the annual RPG and boardgaming expo in Hammersmith. I took the coach up from Wells, which terminates in Hammersmith bus station, and then walked the 5 minutes to the Novatel Hotel which hosts it.

The definition of convenience!

 Jono and I moved away from SW London roughly the same time. We were mainstays at Kingston Gaming Club. I was known for being bossy, but you have to be - if people don't make the commitment to coming on time every week, the group loses out, and it just dies a death. You have to be honest.

These days people think nothing of not turning up or texting they can't make it on the morning of the event. Bear in mind some people travel for at least an hour to get there, and would like to organise their social lives too.

I'm one of those people who was brought up to believe lateness was rude. And there really is no excuse for not communicating if there's a problem in this day and age.

Rant over.

So, Jono, Adrian, Larry and myself went around the place. One of the standout observations was the lack of official Dungeons and Dragons accessories on sale. WoTC (the owners) have never even had a stand there.

Mainly it's the smaller independent companies. These are people who write, produce and sell their own products. 

Truly labours of love. 

Mongoose, who produce Traveller, were there. All 4 of them. This is a global science-fiction RPG and it's a tiny, tiny company with a hugely loyal fanbase too. I saw the book they produce for physicists who play a maths based version, where they work out the velocity of a craft travelling at X which then slingshots round a gas-giant 3 times the size of Jupiter but with only 75% of the gravity...

Something for everyone!

I bought a D&D compatible adventure called 'Against the Faerie Queen' which is a role-play-heavy (rather than combat) epic fantasy adventure based in post-Romano Britain. It won't suit everybody, as it's more about lore, diplomacy, politics and role-playing.

It won't be for everybody, and people struggle when it comes to correctly pronouncing Welsh words. 

But I love the fact Celtic in this sense refers to Welsh Celtic rather than Irish Celtic, as it so often does.

I also had a kickstarter arrive the other day which is like D&D set in a gonzo future and televised...so much to read!

Tsundoku or what??

At Dragonmeet I met Ian Livingstone, co-founder of Games Workshop, who with Steve Jackson invented the Fighting Fantasy Gamebook which brought so much joy to my teenage life. I shook him by the hand and thanked him, then he struggled with the PDQ machine (I thought he'd have a minion for that) and signed my book.

I bought presents for my Thursday lot. I hope they like them!

Had a really good chat with Larry about socks, and why they are important. 

Met Tyrone, Peter and John Bryant too.

It was such a proper geek and nerd-fest. The sights, sounds and smells were just brilliant. Great to see younger people there too - not just us sad old beardies.

The overheard conversations were a joy to behold - '...of course I was just using the beta part of my brain in that scenario..."

-----------------------------

It's come to my attention recently that I am not playing nearly enough role-playing games.

Seriously. 

I have gone slightly doolally or at least higher up the doolally scale without it.

It gives me something to aim and work for in the week. It’s intensely taxing on my grey matter. It’s the most intense of social interactions with high emotions, adrenalin, arithmetic, acting and other things beginning with A.

It also keeps me out of the boozer.

If I don’t get my fix I get rather…grumpy, lazy, listless, depressed all of which is a virtuous circle. 

Good news is that Jono/Adrian/Larry will be running a Traveller campaign online on Wednesdays from that London/Plymouth.

Hoorah!

Official Dungeon of Dementia T-shirts!

I've been working on these for minutes.

Available in XXXM. 

Payment options: postal order only

103 Guineas per item. 

3 for the price of 4.

Disclaimer: Dungeon of Dementia accepts no responsibility for fights, hospital bills, loss of limb or any other negative outcomes incurred when wearing its apparel.

No cure for stupid

I realise you don't want to talk about politics

I get it. I do .

The last post had the fewest clicks in years. Lol.

But really. Come on...

Okay, okay, I'll stop.

I'll talk about FTD then, and all my problems associated with it.

But I'll try and keep it light.

Baby-bio for brains

We set the bar too low these days. My experience at the Beeb was that the programme-makers thought the audience were completely stupid. I was told to rewrite certain parts of the fact-sheet that accompanied the programme as it contained words longer than one syllable.

I'm not making this up.

Yet the people making the programme were rather dull themselves. 

Educated, yes. Clever, no.

 I guess it could be perceived as projection. I think they thought they were really intelligent. They were certainly deluded if they did think that.

Now the bar is so low in the Kensington museums that a bright 12 year old would probably feel he or she were being talked down to. 

More relatable, innit?

When your brain is atrophying, you have to try harder than ever to keep those plates spinning - voice, language - stimulating it by using those senses, completing sudokus and crosswords. Keep pumping oxygen and blood through the grey matter and fight against the inevitable to maintain functionality for as long as possible.

I play RPG games as you know, which require multiple skills. 

I still need social-interaction which can - with people I don't know so well - be awkward. 

I understand this is very much how certain people with autism experience the world.

I want to be really smart, but...

I watch discussion programmes and lectures on politics and philosophy which are beyond my pay-grade, but how else are you supposed to learn or achieve anything if you don't set the bar high?

So I've been watching anything with Christopher Hitchens, Stephen Fry, Vlad Vexler, and archival episodes of Firing Line - a highbrow interview programme which was the vehicle (I cannot spell vehical, vehichal, veichal!) of William F Buckley Jr, a conservative political philosopher who hugely influenced the Reagan administration.

Now before you all say I'm drifting off to the right hear me out.

Being in an echo-chamber is something I try to avoid. I inevitably take the role of devil's advocate when everyone is earnestly nodding heads and wringing hands. There is a prevailing belief these days that our political opponents are not only wrong but inherently bad. 

No doubt some of them are - and I don't even count alt- or far-right wingers whose bigotry I have no time for. I want to understand conservatives and have my beliefs challenged. 

I want to be able to think. And the freest societies allow both sides.

Buckley and Gore Vidal famously debated on The ABC network on the advent of the 1968 US election.

They hated each other and Buckley got close to punching Vidal live on the programme when Vidal goaded him by calling him a Nazi.

Vidal was extremely clever, a master of rhetoric, charismatic, smug, arrogant and a member of the US aristocracy (for they have one).

A drunk Norman Mailer famously head-butted Vidal backstage from a Dick Cavett show in the early 70s. So Vidal had quite the track record.

But while I disagree fundamentally with almost all of Buckley's politics, he challenges, makes some very interesting and persuasive arguments and his interviews on the whole are good-natured and are an exchange or arm-wrestle of ideas.

He had mannerisms and affectations along with a mid-Atlantic drawl (he spent some of his childhood in public school in Windsor) which made him very easy to impersonate.

I cannot - CANNOT - listen to Noam Chomsky. He's so unutterably dull and intransigent. His views to me seem rather stuck in the 1970s. 

Ditto Mailer, who spent his life trying to out-Hemingway Hemingway. He was an anachronism by the late 60s.

So anyway, that's what I'm doing. 

Dad's downstairs watching 'Cash in the Attic'. 

I would like to sit downstairs and read or something, but I can't concentrate with that on. 

It occurred to me that Dad may have ADHD - he needs background noise.

Regrets

Everyday. By the skipful. I dream them. I wake up with them.

If you have none I think you're in total denial of reality or your self.

All the fuck-ups from childhood to present day, although the vast majority are from age 25-40. 

Not standing up for myself, being drunk and stupid, losing all hope and drive in my late 20s, which I realise was depression.

Usually just episodes of patheticness.

Yesterday I went into Wells, I had 3 pints in the afternoon and sat in the pub with my headphones on and read. It got really busy .

In the evening I drank 3 bottles of beer. So, a 6-pint day. 

Last Saturday was a 9-pint day. 4 in the afternoon, 5 in the evening. On my own, in the pub.

Not good is it? I didn't even feel particularly drunk, though I screamed at some balaclava'd youth cycling on the pavement with no lights on his bike.

Arthritis is taking hold of my fingers and shoulders too. 

Yet, whilst just listing these things I don't feel self-pity, rather frustration at past failures to make constructive decisions coupled with a total incapability of planning for the future.

I don't know how you'd plan for the past...

I am, however, very bored.

Have I kept it light?

Oh.

Try this then:

"Do you do dice swaps?"

Asked the 10 year old girl. 

"Sorry?"

"Do you do dice swaps?"

"What?? Certainly not!" I replied, incredulously. While inwardly raging "GET THEE BEHIND ME SATAN!!!"

She looked puzzled. Everyone does dice swaps, surely?

Why would I want her glittery dice, all covered in sticky, sugary child-goo?

'Gusting. 'GUSTING!

What was she thinking?

There was an uncomfortable silence as we realised we inhabited 2 separate worlds.

These are MY dice. Those are YOUR dice. And never...the...twain. Do you understand?

GOOD. 

Then we'll speak no more about it. 

No, no, NO!

She hung around awkwardly for a bit, then walked off. 

I think she learned a valuable lesson from that, and she'll thank me one day, mark my words.

And as for the teenagers who neglect to bring a dice and pencil to a role-playing game - A ROLE-PLAYING GAME!!!!! - then wish to borrow MY dice and stationery to duly SOIL with their greasy and detritus-laden fingers?

What is this?

What has the world come to?

Standards have slipped since my day. I blame the permissive society and post war funk.

I could go on.

Oh. Okay...

Dust

That weird hinterland

I'm glad my last post about Mat went down well with those closest to him. I'm often told I'm too honest - say stuff that should remain unsaid. Too personal, too embarrassing to be shared. 

Maybe it's because some friends of mine when I was 18 said they didn't know me as I guess I didn't want to show any vulnerabilities. Since then I've tried to be more me. 

It's been a struggle, with my inclination to share the WRONG stuff.

(Apparently.)

At least I trod the correct path with the last post. Last thing I'd want to do is upset people, especially those who matter most to me. 

So now the wait for the funeral, which will be a huge affair. Mat was very popular. 

Mat wasn't a divisive figure in any way. He was very thoughtful, upfront and decent. He didn't suffer fools, but who of us do?

Tolerance? Mehhhh.

Funerals are weird things - Nervousness, sombreness, grief,  more grief, relief that that part of the day is over, then revelry - celebration of the life lived. 

The older I get the more I appreciate and understand the nature of funerals. There are many ways to deal with death - every culture has theirs. None of them I guess are 100% the correct answer, but at least they are a response and provide a collective grieving period, and a conduit for feelings and the many emotions, which is cathartic.

My world

...is shrinking ever more. Now I have 2 screens I would say I now only need half the space of my mancave. 

I've played over 600 hours of Baldur's Gate 3. That's a lot of hours. 

The other side of my room full of books and a nice chair to read in, is barely used. 

Perhaps I could rent it out?

The screens are too tempting. 

That's really rubbish. 

I'm also forgetting to write my diary every other night. Not that there's much to go in there, but pages are left blank. It's a catharsis thing as I never read them, but I have kept them all since 1986.

Philippa Perry in her book "How to stay sane" recommends keeping a diary and meditation. It's excellent advice, although I've dropped the meditation bit.

I let a friend of mine read my diary when I was at art college. She said "I wish I was you, Geraint."

She wasn't being sarcastic (I'm sure!), but I've always wondered what she meant by that.

I'm not reading anything either. I sat in a cafe to read "Vecna: Eve of Ruin" and read the first chapter. But it's taken me a week to get round to doing just that.

I am witness to certain faculties eroding.

On the upside...I completed my 5th or 6th run-through of Baldur's Gate 3 on the PC. Only 600 hours of my life has been spent playing this game.

Still, I'm a long way off Larry who has spent 7,650 hours of his life (10 and a half months) playing Lord of The Rings Online. 

There's a challenge...

Alchohol

The sad 60 year old sat at the bar embarrassing himself in his drunkeness, trying to flirt with the young bar staff and whom no one wishes to engage with.

The lost old guys who drink steadily from 11 till 4 everyday at Wetherspoon's. Resigned to their fates, they vacate their seats one at a time until they are entirely replaced by another group of unhappy old men.

I don't and I won't be any of those people.

I drank too much on Saturday night after a lovely evening with Nerys and Ben. I just stopped in at The White Hart on the way home and had probably 3 more drinks. I bumped into a nice person who'd just finished work. It was 12.30 when I got home.

The next day was a write-off.

I've pretty much disgusted myself at my own inability to stop once I start. So much so that I haven't drunk  for 3 days. I don't feel any compunction to do so either.

I usually have a couple of beers after DMing on a Thursday just to decompress after the event.

But it's too expensive to drink and it is doing my brain no good at all. That and ultra-processed food. 

(Probably.)

Demented Ramblings #42

The Geraint Organisation

Now I live in Wells and have a sensible haircut and buy the Daily Express, every thing has to be TIDY.

Everything is pristine in my man-cave. Things live in boxes. I'm like that Japanese lady, only I'm not Japanese or a lady.

I even have plants.

I cleaned the bathrooms, walked Tomos and power-washed the patio at the back, which was filthy and slippery. The broken concrete is now more beautiful than ever. (Photos on request.)

As you know ladies, I'm great with a Karcher. 😉

I'm also taking more care over my appearance. 

Being single again is good. I'm trying my best and feel more autonomous. Rediscovering things - rediscovering me. 

It's not like I didn't have any freedom in my previous chapter; it's just different.

Life's all right. 🙂

I'm a fully-integrated website node

I managed to replace my old stonemasonry website which used my geraintdavies.co.uk URL with this one. More luck than anything. I never understand all those codes and protocols, so I looked things up on the interweb and got so far and thought it hadn't worked. 

A few weeks later I clicked on the geraintdavies.co.uk and I was more surprised than anyone that it forwarded to Dungeon of Dementia!

That's how NASA do it - just bungle through. 

They're a bunch of morons really.

Temperance

I've got more energy from not drinking. But I'm not losing weight at the moment. In fact I feel I've put it on again. Which is odd as I have a Huel drink for lunch, a couple of pieces of fruit, a chocolate biscuit and then a small dinner in the evening.

Anyway, I don't miss the alcohol and still have the odd beer (but 0% alcohol) but fewer. 

I guess it just takes longer to lose weight at 54. 

"Come on stomach flab - disappear!" I shout.

But alas and alack, to little avail...

Boring Dreams

I have a recurring dream about owning a bike and attempting to buy a D-lock for it. Or cycling to the shops and then realising I don't own a D-Iock to secure it so I know it will be nicked.

Stress?

Maybe I should get a bike. Everyone says I should get a car as it will give me more independence and then I could leave Wells whenever I feel like it. 

I dunno. What do you reckon?

Anyway, lots of recycling dreams (HA HA HA HA HA), and then dreams about our neighbour Mrs Holister - from when I was a kid - and her fictitious grandson, Jonathan, who was very proper and grown up, whereas I was an idiot trying to be his friend and not impressing much. 

I was kicking a ball around and he was asking the names of the flowers. Bastard. Swot.

Jonathan looked like an Austin A30, but then again a lot of people back then did.

Jonathan, the boy next door who never existed.

And if you don't believe me, here's Albert Tatlock.

Albert Tatlock

He was from then, you know.

(One of my finest sentences.)

What's Trump said now?

Obsessed with the fucka, though since Carlson's interview and Navalny's death (and I suspect the timing of the 2 are related) I think Trump could be sunk. I'm optimistic.

At this time of writing he's still neck and neck with Biden, perhaps leading by a point. But Nikki Haley would beat Biden by a mile if she was the Republican nominee.

Trump's also had the audacity to compare himself to Navalny. Despicable cxxt.

He's now trying to flog his hideous gold trainers, which he is quite openly saying will increase his appeal to black people, along with his mugshot pic as a lot of black people in America will know what it's like to be as subjugated as our Donnie.

At his fascistic rallies he speaks gibberish off the cuff, and his MAGA cultists lap up whatever he says. 

His whole spiel is a fantasy. Like Johnson there is no delineation between lies or truth - just say whatever is in your interest at that particular moment and they will dutifully applaud.

They simply don't critique anything he says. 

And because of the binary nature of news channels over there once you pick a side there is no alternative to counter with. No benchmark of facts.

Like the medieval peasants following a goose to the Holy Land, they follow him regardless of any reason. 

They are the 21st Century Peasants' Crusade. They live in the Flyover States, in one of the most unequal societies in the world, and a snake-oil salesman has come to deliver them. Many of these people are evangelists and there is a piss-poor standard of education.

I guess it's a lesson in what can happen in a Plutocracy with Universal Suffrage. A neglected portion of society are vulnerable to a narcissistic fascist.

Whataboutery with the Botskis

Crazy dreams about catastrophes, armageddon - must be seeing all the crypto fascists on the internet. With Navalny and the MAGA right embracing Putin and other hideous dictators around the world, it's just giving me a feeling of utter dread for the future.

If you go on The Times site on YouTube the pro-Putin lot are all over the comments, flooding it with lies.

So I come back with some facts, and they say:

What about Shemima Begum then?

What about Iraq?

Ah yes - the whataboutery. That deflecting tactic to answer the question with something that on the face of it sounds similar but is factually different.

Putin actually said Poland started WW2.

Factually rubbish. And he gave Carlson all that bull about the historical reasons why Ukraine belongs to Russia. 

Well, if we go back long enough France belonged to England. 

Post truth innit.

Gaming and death

Running the game a fortnight ago in Pilton for those kids was tiring but not tiresome. Far from it in fact. It was also really nice to be around young people and engage with them.

Doing it at Easter again.

Our Thursday campaign reached a point where 2 - and nearly a third - character died. 

I did warn them that this particular part of the adventure was very hazardous. But still, they put their blinkers on and ran about putting on cursed items, running down staircases to open chests that were obviously there to tempt them, and doing very little observing. 

Oh well, I warned them.

So 2 new characters are miraculously going to join next session. Simon and I are really happy with his character and how integrated it is to the story.

Nearly at the end now - 4 more sessions probably.

Okay. That's me done for another week.

Holiday Dementia Special!!!!!

Reunion

Not the title of my difficult third album, but of a little group of some Blue Schoolers from a long time ago,  who gathered together in The Crown last night.

It was a smaller gathering than I expected and as usual with these things some people who said they were coming didn't, and others who said they might didn't. So there.

I had good chats with Ali, Pat, Sarah, Richard, Clare and Anna. It was amazing to all be in the same room. 

(Anna's dog wants to have sex with me. It's difficult. Tbf I probably led him on.)

Get yer coat luv: you've scored.

And today I met Shelley for coffee and took her to see Tanith on her last day at work ever. They hadn't seen each other in years. So that was good.

So many old school friends in 24 hours. It's really nice. And last night I phoned the wrong Claire, but it was really nice to speak to her again so I'm going to call her later for a catch up!

Slightly too much to drink last night but I think I got away with it, apart from the masturbation joke which Ali and Nerys recoiled from. 

Blame it on the FTD. I always do.

Body Dysmorphia

However, the photos of the event were a surprise to me. Instead of the Apollonian figure who looks back at me from the mirror every morning, was the body of a 12 stone weakling with a pot belly. I looked like I have spina bifida - Ian Dury Legs with Purple Ronnie's torso.

Couldn't be bothered to Photoshop my face onto it...

Bloody 'ell. I HAVE got Spina Bifida. Oh, there's always something...

"Gurt big head on 'ee!" "What an Elmer." I can hear you all saying. 

And you'd be right. 

I need to have a full head and body transplant. Maybe for next Xmas. 

Or I'll just have the money instead.

Words were no good anymore!

I've been going round saying odd words. Bungleflumps is at the top of the list. I don't know what it means. I say it a lot.

It just comes out now and again. I have yet to get to the stage of going up to random people and asking: "Do you know Bungleflumps?" "Can you direct me to Bungleflumps?" Or even to the stage of "Are you Bungleflumps? Are you? ARE YOU????"

So for the now, we will keep Bungleflumps at arm's length. I'm sure it will all become clear later.

Later.

Do you remember old Bungleflumps? 

Remember what he did to Dicky Price? 

Marvellous.

Eric Andre

My latest obsession is Eric Andre. He's a comedian - on the very fringes of theatre. He's a natural successor to Andy Kaufman, Chris Morris, Sacha Baron Coen and Johnny Knoxville. Watching lots of Eric Andre and being hungover has led to this crass bollocks that I am typing now but you are already  reading due to TIME.

His humour is gross-out, hits on the public, making his chat show guests feel very uncomfortable, and inexplicable, surreal stunts.

At the moment I'm trying to watch everything I can. It's a miracle the way he winds people up that he hasn't been seriously hurt by someone.

This is not for the faint-hearted and may truly offend: 

Well, I warned you.

RPG UPDATE!

Great gaming week. It got off to a bad start as Monday's was cancelled, but Larry has got the Temple of Elemental Evil up and running (it's a GAME, OK?!) having done a ton of work on it. We're playing it on Roll20 which is an incredible (and complicated) platform to use. But the maps and everything look fantastic. 

Wednesday afternoons are sorted for the foreseeable: thanks for all your hard work Larry!

And then on Thursday I ran Tomb of Annihilation for my Wells group. I really enjoyed it and so did they, which is the main thing.

Also, Patch 5 finally became available for Baldur's Gate 3 on Macs and the difference is awesome - you can now play it again instead of judder-judder-judder; give up.

Also my 20 mini 10-sided dice arrived. 

Xmas has arrived!!!

Hallelujah!

There you go. Have a nice one.

Arfur Tinkle

 Dragonmeet

Saturday 2nd December. Woke up at 6.30 to freezing fog. It was so cold. As I was up my 82 year old Dad was up too.

"What are you doing up?" I asked, knowing full well what he was up to.

"I'm giving you a lift to the bus station." 

"Don't be daft; I'm going to walk."

"No. You're my son and I'm giving you a lift. It's too cold to walk."

So he gave me a lift.

We sat in the car for 10 minutes and then the coach pulled up. In the queue I met Tanith and Robin, who were going up to see a gig with Tanith's son. 

We were assigned seats but managed to send each other messages on Whatsapp. It's amazing how much 4G signal there is in the world when you leave Wells.

It was a beautiful journey. I wear my noise-cancelling headphones and don't talk to people on the coach. You're quite squished in so I guess I just don't want any more aural or visual information than that as it would overwhelm me and I'd need to get out.

So we arrived at Hammersmith and went for a brunchy-breakfast and had a good old catch-up. It was great fun. Lots of gossip - I do love gossip. 

(Can't tell you what as you'll think I'm bad...)

I then went to the Novotel Hotel 400 meters from the bus station, where the Dragonmeet was and met Tim and his boy Finn, who was clearly not enjoying it. HE's only 10 so he was probably expecting more figures and games going on. Most of what's being sold are books and accessories - big weighty tomes for upwards of £50. Lots of complex rules to digest. A bit much for a 10 year old.

Some 'Great Stuff'

I met Larry, Adrian and Jono and a couple of others too. I bought some great stuff, and spent just over £100. The others spent considerably more. Then we went to The Swan  - a handsome Victorian pub on the corner, and had a couple of beers, then I got the coach home, which despite stopping 4 times managed to get back to Wells within 3 hours. 

It was such a good day. You must come next year.

Baldur's Gate 3

Since Patch 4 Act 3 has become unplayable. I know, right? Us Mac users are still awaiting patch 5 - which the Windows users already have.  

I mean it really is unplayable. 279 hours in and they've messed up the greatest CRPG of all time. 

The characters don't move, there's a 30 second lag every time you make them do something, and the party of 4 characters which is supposed to move as one, don't.

Come on! Fix it!!

So what will I do with all this spare time?  I'll just have to do things like cleaning the house, putting up shelves, walking the dog, having a shave...

I could be using my time properly to save the world.

I AM NOT PARANOID!!!!

I meet lots of dog walkers when I'm out with Tomos, and we chat and things. One woman to whom I told I have FTD, now walks the other way. 

Or maybe she was just going the other way anyway...See? 

As I walk Tomos I wonder if they know I'm weird. Am I coming across as a demented when I'm trying to act normal. Maybe I shouldn't have said to that woman,

"...and I should charge 20 guineas a time, my good woman!" (for Tomos's personal training services to other dogs.} 

I think charging in guineas is hilarious. She probably just thinks I'm a looney.

I mean I am a bit anyway. Always was to a lesser extent. Now I'm a demented I don't know how much of it comes across. 

I seem to be able to chat with anyone about dogs. Some owners in Wells are quite snooty. The middle classes never fail to entertain. The entitled/aspirational ones in SW London /Surrey with the electric 4x4s and the bottle-blonde wives, the ones in Wells with the Liberty's scarves and Harris tweeds with their noses up in the air. 

The aspirational middle-classes, providing comedic value since the time of Chaucer.

Makes me laugh.

But they know. They know I'm demented. 

Damn.

The musical what I wrote

So today I walked around composing a musical in the style of those 60s chirpy cockney types, with Tommy Steele, Rita Tushingham and of course Anthony Newley. 

So it's called 'Arfur Tinkle', the tale of an unfortunately surnamed chirpy cockney who's endured a lifetime of piss-taking.

That's as far as I've got, apart from a few Tommy Steele and Antony Newley impressions I did while walking through the market this morning. 

Luckily no one suspects I'm demented...

Moving On

 Autumn is here with a vengeance

It was absurdly hot for way too long, and all of a sudden I can wear clothes again. For months all I could wear was a baggy t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops. Every day the same things. Anything else and I was a sweaty mess.

Then it just rained and dropped a few degrees, and all of a sudden it was Autumn. I find it to be reassuring in a way, that despite climate change we are at least in receipt of actual seasonal weather. 

We escaped the worst of the Storm Ciaran, as did most of the country...

Anyway, enough of the weather.

Actual Moving

So a couple of weeks ago I finally moved all my shit here. I was in London at J's (no longer 'home' which is peculiar as I spent 9 years calling it that) and hired a van in London as it's £50 a day as opposed to nearly £80 a day in Somerset. I packed my stuff, having worked out the volume (see picture).

Only a cubic metre out!

So I packed everything up , drove to Somerset, and unpacked it and set it all up, with some stuff in storage which I'm gradually forgetting about, which is not good. The thing is I had so much get up and go that week that I couldn't stop, so I achieved lots, DMing in Wells, then driving the van back the next day to off-hire it and play on the Sunday for the last time with Larry, Adrian and the crew. 

That's the end of an era, then.

Gaming 

Still, looking ahead at least we have Zoom and various other platforms to meet up on and play RPGs on. We're looking to move the Sunday session of Temple of Elemental Evil to a Wednesday afternoon/ evening online, which would be great.

I DM'd last weekend in Wells for an unprecedented  Saturday session in addition to the Thursday session. I DM'd for 5 hours. It was great -  it was a kitchen sink session with a dragon, going up a level, meeting a long lost sibling and in doing so fulfilling a personal quest, a trip to the astral plane and then off to the terribly hot land of Chult to battle zombies and dinosaurs in the jungle.

All in a day's work.

I've also lost days (97 hours so far) to Baldur's Gate 3, which is the most ambitious RPG computer game made to date. My iMac is struggling to cope with processing the data when in the setting of the city where there are scores of NPCs walking about talking, arguing and everyone has a name and a story. It is vast. An incredible achievement by Larian Studios.  

I have a girlfriend called Shadowheart who worships an evil god, but we don't talk about that. My other friends are Will who is a Sorlock , and Lae'zel, who is a mighty Githyanki warrior.

2023 Githyanki

1981 Githyanki

I should really be doing something more than gaming but it is so addictive because it's exciting and you are in the middle - at the heart - of the adventure.

At least I'm writing a blogpost at long last. I haven't even been writing diary entries (I have kept them going for over 35 years) as my life is so uneventful right now!

Man Cave

So yes, I have made a man-cave and am still constructing it. I'm taking Dad to Ikea on Thursday to look at options for his music room.  Dad is all about music, and can't visualise things, so I've shown him some options online and done a scale drawing of the room with possible variations for new furniture, but we'll need to see it physically to make the decisions.

I took the net curtains down in the room. Funny looking out of this huge 1960s window onto the road - the all-too familiar but changed houses opposite. My parents are among the last original owners of these houses when they were built in 1963/4. The people who've come and gone, remembering them , the cars, how things were back in the 1970s and 80s. It's kind of nice and sad at the same time.

Last week I made a desk extension. I'd looked into buying keyboard drawers but they were expensive and I didn't like the designs of them, using bulky clamps and things to attach, so I decided all I needed was some MDF which I would cut, paint and then place everything on top of. 

It's sturdy and impossible to tip due to physics. 

© Geraint Davies Desktop Solutions 

Just got to clear the arch of hideous clutter (Dad's) around it and I'm done. 

What now then?

Funny being here. People I haven't been in contact with and new people I need to befriend and make a social life with. I will go back to London more and more I think. Things with J are good and long may that continue. I walk Tomos every weekday morning, I play online with friends on a Monday, I'm in touch still with people. More online gaming with people would be good. And meeting more people in Wells with similar interests/outlook would be great.

I do, however, need to do more round the house and not get sucked into gaming all day.

And not forget about selling all that stuff in the lockup!