While the cats away

Unfortunately mice don’t play. Not anymore anyway. It was like this: Mrs Giant68 was away for a four nights last week. She works in a school, as a librarian and learning assistant, and she was going with the kids and a few of the teachers on residential week in the New Forest. I was staying at home. Now I can visualise men out there in  the wide world thinking “ marvellous! Beer, sport and porn for a few days” By the time she comes home i would be drunk and blind! In the real world it doesn’t seem to work like that. She went on the Monday morning, i had already left for work, so I didn’t see her (apart from the back of her neck when i sneaked out of bed at ½ 5, in the dark!) I put in a 9 hour day and came home knackered. Spent a while in the kitchen cooking dinner, washed up, put everything away, dozed off in front of the TV. No beer, no sport, no porn.
Tuesday, almost the same apart from the trip out into the New Forest in the evening to visit Mrs Giant68. Came home, had a coffee, dozed in front of the TV, eventually went to bed. Again no beer, no sport, no porn.
Can you see a pattern emerging here?
At the end of the week I had, probably, spent more time at work and in the kitchen than I had in front of the TV watching Sky Sports. I had spent, maybe, ½ an hour checking my emails, several hours asleep in front of the TV and a few hours a night in bed.
The best thing about being at home on my own was that in the morning when I got up I didn’t have to sneak around the house in the dark trying not to wake Mrs G up. I could turn all the lights on, turn the radio up while I made my coffee, and could get dressed in the light for a change.
I think that I must be getting old. Or as Mini Giant68 says “already old”
When I was home that week I didn’t speak to a single person, there was no one to speak to. In the past I talked to the dog, but if you follow my blog you will know that is in the past. Most of the time I was pretty bored. You get used to having someone around and miss the social interaction when they are not there. Even if you spend the time in separate rooms there is still the availability of interaction and when it is not there you find that there is a black hole. Just goes to show that we humans are social animals. And having physical  social networks is vital, not the cyber networks that are available through Facebook etc. I think that if I had to live on my own I would probably go crazy
Also it proved to me that I can cook quite well. I ate very well that week. Started off the week with the remains of a stew leftover from the weekend but as the week progressed the meals got better. Only had oven chips once and no takeaways! I made a mean gravy to go with the faggots I bought from the butcher. And when Mrs Giant68 came home I bought some decent steak from the butcher which I cooked with a few onions, and I spent the afternoon making bread.
Anyone fancy a slice of Chorizo and Thyme Fougasse? Oops, sorry it’s all gone.

Regards
Giant68 x

Fascinating world of the Blog

This blogging thing is quite a fascinating thing. A couple of years ago I decided to start writing this blog, basically because I wanted to write a novel but didn’t have the time or the inspiration and blogging seemed to be the next best thing. It is very difficult to come up with an idea for a book when you have read so many. Every idea I had for my novel would turn out to be already taken. A while back I had an idea for a book involving zero point energy. Then found that there were references to it in books by Ian Banks and now one by Neal Asher, bugger! Never mind, I expect that they are writing books that will be far more entertaining than anything I could ever write. And, to be honest, I’m now quite happy to read the Asher and Banks novels and I’ll stick to blogging.
Even blogging can be hard. Sometimes I have no ideas and sometimes the ideas come when I have no way of recording them and then I forget them. Yesterday I had a brilliant idea for a blog, I didn’t write it down and now I have forgotten what it was. I must learn to have a notebook to hand and write these things down. Although I think that the ones that come to me while I am sitting at the laptop and just flow from the brain through the fingers to the keyboard and then to the blog site are the best ones, generally funnier and more interesting.
I set up the blog on this site for no other reason than it was the first one I looked at and it seemed easy. And it was easy. Set up the account, as I already had a Google account I was ½ way there, and Bob is your parents brother, so to speak. I write about things that bug me, that I find interesting, or just weird things.

There is a rather interesting feature of this site. You can look at the statistics for your blog. Now I am sure that some blogs will have thousands of hits every day, Walker of Worlds, one that I follow and have contributed to, is one of them and I'm sure that Mark is justifiably proud. I, on the other hand, have only a few hits. But I can look at them and sometimes I am surprised by what I find. I have just had a look and find that my blog is read by people around the world. The Canadian I would imagine might be my cousin. The English ones would be Ralph, my family, other friends and relatives.  Once it was read and commented on by one of my favourite authors, Neal Asher, that gave me a great feeling of satisfaction, someone important had read what I had written! The reader in India? South Korea? Russia? Finland? Don’t know. But it would be nice to know who they  are. If you are reading this in some far away place then add a comment at the bottom, let me know where you are, I would love to know. Even if you are not so far away, put a comment, be it Milton Keynes, Slough, whatever, I want to know. 
Cheers, where ever you are! Keep reading my blog and allowing me to have that have that warm feeling of satisfaction…
Giant68

The menswear Black hole

I have noticed something over the last year. I find it harder and harder to buy clothes in my size. And, to be honest, Clothes in any size.

As you will, no doubt, know from following this blog on a regular basis, I have lost a little bit of weight. I am now somewhere in the region of 4st lighter than I was a year ago. This has led to various shopping expeditions to buy clothes. Losing weight is costing me a fortune. Boy, do I wish I’d kept the clothes I expanded out of! I’m sure I would have looked a treat in my skin tight jeans, Frankie says… T-shirt and leg warmers!! Maybe I ought to grow the mullet back again, or maybe not…

But i have discovered that menswear departments and shops are shrinking at an alarming rate. I walked into the local BHS just recently and went in the direction of the menswear dept. I think that I must have blinked and missed it! Oh! There it is! Over in that corner, hiding behind the lingerie section. Well at least I can have a snigger on the way through.

Some days later I found that Asda are the same. menswear has been pushed into the furthest corner of the shop, on the upper floor.

Will it come to a point where the male of the species will have only a choice of size for the one style of clothing that is available. Look around the High Street where you live, in the UK as that is where i have the most experience, and you will see that the traditional Men's clothing shops are shrinking. Burtons is a pale shadow of what it used to be. Next seems to only supply clothes to those who are in touch with their feminine side, and couldn’t put a shelf up if they tried.

But if you are a woman! Wow! The choice you have. Colours, sizes, styles, whatever you want. Shops that go on forever.

Only the likes of Marks and Spencer and Debenhams are holding back the flood of womenswear. Although their menswear departments are still shrinking, but much slower than anywhere else. I expect that they will vanish completely at some point in the near future.

Imagine the conversation in 50 years time:

“Daddy?”

“Yes, son”

“Do you remember when you could buy a suit?”

“Oh yes, son. Those were the days! I remember it was just before global warming and the rise of sea level. Men could buy allsorts of clothing. Trousers, shirts, jackets, ties, a whole suit of clothes if he felt that way inclined. Good old days. I miss that more than i miss the Maldives…”

So that was 2010??

That’s it then. 2010 is over. Gone. Kaput. Was it a good one for you? Personally it was ok, I suppose. I did not take up smoking again, I kept up my weekday abstinence from alcohol, and I kept losing weight until I reached a target. I got a promotion, sort of, although sometimes I wonder why I bothered. And I watched my granddaughter grow up a little bit more.

On the down side we had to have our dog put to sleep a couple of days before Christmas. She had been a part of our family for 16 years and it came as a bit of a shock.

What of 2011?

I have started reviewing books for another blog. They should start being posted in January, provided Mark likes them. So pop over to “Walker of Worlds” and have a look.

I am looking forward to more camping in 2011. I know, you can’t believe the change in me, can you? Only a short while ago I was dead against that sort of thing. Nothing short of a hotel with room service for me! What happened was that aliens came down and replaced me with a pod person, a la "Invasion of the Body Snatchers”. My real body is probably being anally probed somewhere out there in the vast universe. rest assured, I am, probably, not enjoying it!

Mrs Giant68 is probably hoping that I will get around to building her new kitchen and bathroom. I did promise her that about 6 months ago! Amazing that as the kids have left home I end up spending a shed load of cash. When no.1 daughter left I bought and built a conservatory. Then mini Giant68 left and I am going to end up spending a reasonable fortune on the kitchen and bathroom. Personally I think that we should downgrade to an apartment. Unfortunately Mrs Giant68 doesn’t want to so I’m stuck.

I am also hoping that I can get together with my mate Steve, him of Spanish holiday fame, and play cribbage a little more often than I managed in 2010. Cribbage is something that he introduced to me some years ago. I hate playing cards but for some reason crib is a game that I enjoy. Probably due to the rule we have that it cannot be played unless there are copious quantities of alcohol involved.

I am not going to make any resolutions, why bother? They would only be broken within the 1st 24 hours. And if they aren’t, then they weren’t worth making in the first place.

Happy New Year!

Giant68

We wish you a merry Christmas…

“It’s Christmas time

There’s no need to be afraid”

First lines from a famous song. Well, I’m afraid, there is a need to be afraid. It is the second time of the year that young people feel that they can go out and beg for money with menaces. Obviously, the first attempt to get you part with your hard earned dosh is at the beginning of November. A time when we celebrate the failure of some bloke to blow up the British parliament.

This time it’s Christmas. A time when the gormless chav adolescents feel they can knock on my door, and yours, sing the first few words of “We wish you a merry Christmas…”and then hold their hand out for cash.

Well, let me inform you now that “We wish you a merry Christmas” is NOT a Christmas carol! If you want money from me I want a proper carol. It could be “Oh Come All Ye Faithfull”, God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”, “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem”, you get the idea. There are quite a few to chose from. And I want a full verse and a chorus. Not just the first line. If you want to get a shiny penny from me you’ve got to work for it.

Have a nice Christmas. I wish you all you wish yourself.

Oh, and a happy New Year!

Giant68 x

Strictly Health and Safety

Mrs Giant68 does like to settle down in front of the telly on a Saturday and Sunday evening with a glass of wine and Strictly Come Dancing. Nothing like a bit of Brucie and “dead behind the eyes” Daly. Now,I wouldn’t go out of my way to watch it, but it is on and I will peek at it over the top of my laptop or my book and it is, somewhat, entertaining. But I find something very strange about it all.

I have been trained in Health and Safety by the company I work for. I can carry out risk assessments and create safe systems of work, and I know most of the regulations. I Can’t see how they can get away with what they do on the dance floor.

Firstly, lifts. Now the manual handling regulations state that you can not lift anything heavier than 25kg. And even then you have to lift properly, legs bent, back straight etc. Well, I didn’t see any of the lifts carried out in the proscribed way. And the dancers, while slim (apart from Ann Widdecombe) are, certainly, heavier than 25kg.

Tonight the professional dancers were standing on chairs. How dare they. Do they not realise that chairs are meant for sitting on. If you want to work at height you must use equipment that is designed for that purpose. If they fell off they wouldn’t have a leg to stand on, so to speak.

The investigation would have to carried out. Photos would have to taken and, ultimately the dancer involved would have to be sacked.

And you have to admit that there are a certain amount of distractions on the floor. How can anyone concentrate on what they are doing when Ola Jordan is dancing in one of her skimpy outfits! The risks are tremendous! I am surprised that there are no accidents. The Health and Safety officer for the BBC must be a nervous wreck on a Saturday evening, and I don’t envy him.

Machismo vs. Metrosexual

 

What is it with men and women at the moment? There seems to be a propensity for the slightly effeminate look for the men, and women seem to like it.

I find it a little bit odd that the male of the species seems to be gravitating to this androgynous look (go on, get your dictionaries out!) Can you imagine any of these metrosexuals putting a shelf up, or taking the bins down?

Please don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against the metrosexuals, I do like a drop of the old moisturiser at times, but I just don’t understand what women see in them. In the days of the caveman, the man would be the hunter gatherer while the woman would stay at home and look after the family, after being clubbed over the head and dragged to the cave, of course. Therefore the woman would want a strong, healthy man. His mighty muscles and rippling thews proclaiming that he was a good hunter who could feed a family by dragging a diplodocus through the primordial jungle back to the cave. Once there he could hack into steaks that would  fit over the fire that he built and lit with his feet while he was butchering the dinosaur. (And the first bbq was born, all Neanderthal man needed was a cold beer and his mates!).

Throughout history real men have fought battles, first with fists, clubs, axes, swords and working their way through various small arms. Now I know that there are still a few macho men around, but they all seem to be in Afghanistan fighting the Taliban, while the effete creatures left at home are scoring with the girls. All the while starring in the hit films of the day and making a pot of money, just look at Robert Pattinson, I wouldn’t put him up against a strong wind!

Whatever happened to the macho film stars of yesterday? OK, maybe not a good argument as most of them turned out be gay, but you know what I mean.

I reckon these women will regret it in few years time when they need a jar opening or a shelf put up. Oh, and it’s bin night!