Bit of backstory (1) - Something's brewing down below

Its been a pleasant but uneventful day so I thought now would be a good day to start with a bit of back story. You should feel honored, dear reader as this is the kind of thing that I only let people in on when I'm comfortable with them.


We all have a tendency towards certain kinds of illnesses. Some people get headaches, some get back ache. Mine was bad guts. I was a colicky baby and right through childhood it always seemed that I'd have moments of sickness. No family holiday was complete without me being sick at some point. Throughout my early adult life I never had much of an appetite. I just didn't have that love of food that most people seemed to have. I also seemed to have more than my share of times when - as a student for example - I would get sick from what I'd been drinking well before I got drunk. I thought this was merely due to having a slightly weedy constitution. It seemed to improve by moving from beer to spirits, so I didn't worry too much.

The first time I thought something might be wrong was when I tried to get fit. Due to my small appetite I never had a problem with my weight. So, while I had dabbled with the gym I never really saw the point. Then, in 1998 I agreed to go on a skiing holiday. So it was time to build up a bit of muscle. So I enrolled and threw myself in with a vengeance. At first it seemed to be working well. My strength was increasing and I was toning up. Strange thing was my appetite didn't increase to match. When I had a body mass test I had the same fat levels as an endurance athlete. But I didn't have the endurance.

Needless to say, the skiing holiday wasn't great. Falling over so many times wasn't great for someone as skinny as me. Coupled with this, the cold seemed to cut straight through me and I just couldn't get warm. My guts weren't great either, which was particularly bad as I was sharing a room with someone I didn't know too well.

I put this down to just not being much of a skiing type.

Shortly after this some friends came over for my birthday. It was a repeat of some of the drinking experiences I'd had years earlier only more so. I started getting sick quite early on and could barely keep anything down. I put it down to a bad pint and resigned myself to just having a bit of a crap birthday.

I muddled along for a while, but my enthusiasm for food was seriously waning. Some evenings I'd barely manage a bowl of cereal. It was hard to disguise that I was losing weight and people started dropping hints about having to eat more. Some implied that I might have some kind of eating disorder.

In 1999 I moved out of the house I'd been sharing and bought my first house. This was both the best and worst thing I could have done.

I now didn't have to disguise the fact that I needed to go to the toilet a lot. I also didn't have to worry when the one and only bathroom in the house was occupied (there was a particularly embarrassing moment one time where I had to resort to pooing in a plastic carrier bag when someone was showering in the shared house). I didn't have to field questions on what I was eating that evening.

But I also had the opportunity to hide myself away from the world. I could come in from work, eat what I could manage and then huddle in front of the tv. My energy levels were low, but this didn't matter as I had no inclination to go anywhere. Provided I could invent some meals that I'd pretend to have eaten whenever my parents rang I was fine.

But I was denying that I had a problem.

It was a tv program on gut problems that started me thinking. There were people on there with eating disorders and illnesses (one in particular stuck in my head). It was time to admit that I too had a problem. I booked myself in to see my GP.

This was my first introduction to the marvelous world of poo. I was to provide him with three stool samples [1].

I dropped the stool samples off and awaited the results. Three weeks later I rang for the results. Bad news - my stool samples had been misplaced. I went through the process again and awaited the results again...

Worse news. They had detected "occult" blood in the samples. Now this wasn't, as I initially thought, an accusation of carrying out strange black magic rituals involving blood and poo. It meant that there was blood from my gut in my poo.

It was time for me to see a specialist. I should wait for a letter to arrive from the hospital.

If I didn't have diarrhea before, I did now...

[1] The mechanics of providing a stool sample are as follows:

1. Create a "nest" of toilet roll in the bowl.
2. Carry out your bodily functions as normal (being careful not to wee as this will harm the sample).
3. Remove the little blue spade/spoon from the stool sample bottle.
4. Collect a small heap of poo from the nest using the little spade/spoon.
5. Place this in the bottle and secure carefully.

THE HOUSE IS FALLING DOWN - EVACUATE THE DOGS

Ok, now that I've got your attention I'll go onto the mundane truth of it.

We got an ominous call from the builder last night. He was a little worried about some diagonal cracks in the bedroom wall. He wondered if we wanted to call the surveyor in... oh dear.

Now that he's stripped off some plaster and some more render the problem seems to be a lack of lintels. Or lintels put in by people who didn't know much about building houses. Or basic physics.

The lintels for pretty much every window in the old house are knackered. Not only that, they're only a few millimeters wider than the windows themselves. Oh, and around one of them the wall has turned into crumbly rubble. This means that we've got some walls resting pretty much on window frames and some others resting on... well... nothing. The ones resting on nothing are unfortunately the ones holding up the floor upstairs.

So that's a shame.

Builder reckons he can fix it all. But its not exactly good news.

The weathers been nasty today, so that's made the dogs very restless. We've decided to take the plunge and book them into the kennels. This is not just to keep our neighbours happy, because the ones whose opinions we value have actually been very kind. Its really for their sake. Its not fair for them to be in such a disruptive environment. So they're off on another holiday on Sunday.

Hopefully this should make both their and our lives easier. We can go ahead with what work we can while the dogs can have a restful experience in their little holiday home.

This is all turning a little negative, but I really don't want it to sound that way. I think it's just the influence of John Humphreys on Art School. He's so stuffy and stiff. I want to stab him. Or maybe its just that w2b's blog is getting more attention than mine... boo... hiss.

UK Blogger Prevents Fuel Protest

In a shock U-turn today, the protests promised earlier in the week have largely failed to materialise. The main reason for this has been attributed to a blog entry posted by a sole Englishman yesterday.

...

You can tell its been a bit of a slow day today.

So, some updates on the house:

The kitchen has now been plastered, as have a lot of the other walls in the house. We now have a new ceiling in the kitchen and pretentiously titled "sun room". The builders have started replacing some of the upstairs ceilings. Most of the wiring is now concealed - including the bit behind where the tv is going to go which we wanted to leave till last so that we could conceal some cables behind it. So those are the positives.

The only negative is that we misunderstood when the kitchen fitter was going to come back so that'll be week after next, not next week. Yum - pot noodle tonight.

Wedding-wise, I've had to put off BM (Best Man) for another week or so. He was going to come over so that we could choose our outfits. Ooooh Smell 'Er! But we haven't really got a house for him to stay in at the moment.

W2b picked up her dress after the final fitting. Obviously I haven't got much to say on that as I haven't seen it. She's been excited today at the prospect of getting silly shoes (think she's feeling constrained by bowing to pressure and wearing a dress and veil).

Sid's been ominously quiet today. Short on supplies though, so must remember to order some tomorrow.

Nice day - lets bitch

Been a positive day today. We actually had a productive and enjoyable monthly meeting at work (wonders will never cease) and the builders made some progress on the house (I've seen the light!).

So its time for me to have a moan.

Are there any people in this country more annoying than fuel protestors?

Let me set the scene:

A few years ago, the government's policy of taxing the things that were on the whole damaging - eg alcohol, cigarettes, fuel, etc - backfired slightly when a bunch of people decided that petrol prices were too high. These people, largely hauliers and farmers who use subsidised diesel decided to protest against these high fuel prices. As well as go-slows on motorways, they also blockaded fuel plants and prevented fuel shipments being moved. This was largely done through intimidation, to the extent that some trucks only got through due to police escorts being provided.

The protestors kind of got their way. There was an election looming and the government decided to freeze their tax rises. Shame, really.

So now we get to this week's problem:

Hurricane Katrina hit some of the main oil processing plants in the US This led to a decrease in the global reserves of refined fuel. This in turn led to price rises.

At the end of last week and going into this week the mutterings began from the same protestors. Demonstrations but no blockades - there's been an emphasis on this - would take place towards the end of the week. The government announced that there were contingency measures in place (rationing, guaranteed supplies to essential services, etc).

So now the panic begins. Queues at petrol stations. Petrol stations running out of stock. Worried public wondering whether their fuel will last till the end of the week.

Is it just me, or do these protestors really piss you off?

Its not necessarily the inconvenience. True, when we have a product that we're completely accustomed to having suddenly threatened in some way it makes us feel uncomfortable and uneasy. But we adapt to these things. We find a way to deal with it and we move on.

Its more the fact that these people are protesting purely about the money in their pockets. Its the fact that they protest at the government intervening in one way (putting taxes up to try to influence the amount of fuel we use) and yet want them to intervene in another way in their favour (reducing taxes so that they can counteract the increase in price due to the reduction in supply). Its the fact that the main trouble makers are the ones affected the least by the government's tax policies on fuel. Its the fact that of all the terrible things going on in the world (thousands starving in Niger to take one example) they choose this to complain about.

These people are selfish, money grabbing scum who want to disrupt our lives purely so that they don't have to pay so much.

I can guarantee that half of these people are the same ones that complain about the noise of wind farms and that they are an eye-sore that they don't want near them.

Interesting stat: the percentage of the petrol price that goes into taxes is actually less now than it was ten years ago.

In other news, I see the Pentagon have found a lovely way to commemorate the September 11th attacks.

Sid's quiet. Think he's considering a dirty protest.

So tired...

England won the Ashes...

yay

Dogs barking at some time after midnight. Tramped up from caravan by lamp light to shut them up. Found out problem was open window, so closed it. That shut them up.

First fix finally finished. Assurances that they'll have it all done by end of the week. Kitchen now almost ready for installation.

Phoned builder from work to hear the good news. Also said that he'd rescued the dogs.

Got home to find out that they'd been running amok. Running out into the road. Refusing to be rounded up. Poor neighbour over the road rescues Gamba, but thought that Zulu had been lost for good. Found out quarter of an hour later when he tromped in, dying of thirst. Both finally rounded up and shut up in the house.

Patched up the run some more. Any more of this will mean kennels for the little buggers.

Changed Sid. This dust isn't doing him any good.

Washed up in the bath by more lamp light.

Now watching a bit of teev then off to bed.

Must sleep now.

Change of tack

I was gonna write a big soul searching ramble today about my tendency to worry over things that don't need worrying about.

However, after a bitty, pottering sort of day we've just watched "A Life Less Ordinary". Its such a strangely uplifting, silly, easy film that my ramble no longer seems appropriate. It was the first time that w2b had seen it and she got it. So many people dislike the film - probably because its such a change from "Trainspotting". But I've always liked it and its great to see it with someone who's opinion really matters and for them to like it too.

There's something brave about a film that's clever, with self-aware dialogue and unconventional characters and yet that has at its heart an optimistic message about love. Its kind of like "True Romance-lite".

Watching it now, with someone I love made it an even more pleasurable experience. Being able to enjoy the cleverness as well as the sentiment made it feel like I was enjoying it on all levels.

W2b has changed my view of the world so much - or maybe she's just allowed me to acknowledge the things I didn't want to admit before. It's nice to have the permission to be the hopeless romantic that I wanted to be. It's fantastic to watch a film that has as its central theme the idea of fate bringing people together and to actually believe it.

I'm sure you're all feeling nauseous now. I make no apologies.

Even Sid is feeling all relaxed and non-itchy. I think I'll quit while I'm ahead.

Going to the dogs

Our dogs are a nightmare.

We got home yesterday to muffled barking. Not the usual barking we get from dogs in the open air run, keen to have their adopted parents back. This was strangely muffled and strangely desperate. We approached their run - a big open air space, protected from the elements by tarpaulin with a little igloo inside for protection from the elements - and started to get a little worried when we couldn't see the dogs bouncing up and down in their normal way. But we could still hear the muffled barking.

Then we spotted the sign:

"Houdini and Friend are in the shed after three escape attempts. Karen will send you the cleaning bill later, Geo"

Most odd.

At least that explained the strange tone to the barking. The dogs had been rehomed in one of the run-down old out buildings. "Geo" had then secured them in there through a combination of bits of rope, wire and an old belt. They were still bouncing and you could just make out their frantic little heads bobbing up behind the grimy window.

So more apologies to go through.

Luckily Karen thought our dogs were very cute as they trotted into her kitchen and ate their cat's food. Three times. Geo - turns out to be another neighbour, called George - just seemed very pleased with himself for having saved the day.

Oh the pleasures of having two insane Jack Russells. And to think w2b thinks kids will transform our lives! Every second of our home lives is governed by these hyperactive, labotomised little bundles of joy.

Even now they're playing tug-of-war. With Gamba pulling from the high ground of w2b's knee. We've already witnessed Zulu slingshot Gamba across the room. Well it’s more entertaining than X-Factor.

In Sid news, he's starting to get really irritated by all the dust (sparkies were in today and actually did some work). His itchiness was getting to that painful stage - aided and abetted by Zulu and Gambas' leaping on and off my knee. But having a new bathroom kind of cancels that out. At least changing him isn't the trauma it used to be. Even if I have resorted to sandwich bags for disposal 'cos I can't seem to find the proper blue ones.

My mother likes my girlfriend more than she likes me

When I was about twenty I cut off most of my luscious, Kurt Cobain style locks. I ended up with a "number one" around the back and sides and a kind of topknot on top. My mother was mortified. She claimed I looked like a thug. She even came out with the immortal line that she didn't know me anymore.

I was twenty one when I got my first tattoo. Judging by the overreaction to the haircut, I knew it wasn't a good idea to allow my mother to see it.

Around two or three years later I got another. Then while at a festival (yes I used to be quite wild and crazy, you know) I decided to get my ear pierced. When I saw my mother's reaction to that - "that's so unhygenic, you'll get hepatitis, or trench ear or something" - I knew more than ever that I'd be keeping my tattoos under wraps for a while.

This was successful for a couple of years until, on a kind of forced holiday to Vegas with them (my brother was - classily - getting married there) she spotted me sunbathing. Her reaction wasn't one of those over-the-top, blow-outs. Thats not her style. It was disappointment. She actually said that I was an idiot.

Skip to last week.

W2b and I had decided to get matching tattoos around two months ago. Nice star sign ones on our forearms. It was either that or have each other's names on our biceps.

When my parents came over to visit there was no way we were gonna keep our arms covered. It was obvious that they'd seen them (they're difficult to miss), so eventually on the Saturday afternoon we decided to ask their opinion on them. My mother's reaction, directed straight at w2b was along the lines of:

"I like them."
"If I'd been born today I think I'd have had piercings in my ears and probably one in my nose."
"I don't think I'd have a tattoo though - I think that would be too painful."

Now I know people mellow with age. But this is just bull-doo-doo.

She is soooo the blue eyed girl. I thought daughter-in-laws were supposed to be desperate to impress their partner's mother. Not with these two, its completely the other way round. W2b just can't put a foot wrong. T'aint fair, I tell you.

Can't blame my mother though. Shows that good taste is hereditary.

Its my party...

Am I the only (potential) groom in the world not to want a stag party?

I've had to explain to my best man (a really nice guy who epitomises the phrase) that I don't want to have one. Its a tough sell. After all, who wouldn't want to get together with the guys, be the centre of attention and have a laugh with them in some City?

Well me, to be honest.

Its not just that I'm not into that kind of thing (I haven't been much of a drinker for a while now). It just seems a bit of an artificial thing to do.

Since I left University, most of my friends have been female - the only male ones are the good friends I've kept from University and from home before that. I've grown accustomed to a quieter way of living and I like it. W2b and I have a very nice life here which I wouldn't change for the world. The days of drinking till I'm stupid with the lads are well behind me - if they were ever there. People who know me, know this. I think, though that what they don't seem to understand is that I don't miss those days. I am incredibly happy and there is nothing, nothing at all that I have ever had in my life that I miss.

To me, a stag party is mainly a celebration of and a farewell to all those things that you're giving up when you get married. But my life is already pretty much what it will be when I'm married and I like it that way. I'd be faking it if I tried to pretend it was any other way.

The only other purpose that a stag party can serve is a chance for friends to get together and toast your future happiness, without the formality and stress that will be there on the wedding day. To me that would be so much better if it was a party that both w2b and I could enjoy together. Especially as we live quite far from most of my old friends (so not many chances to get together before the wedding) and because so few of my friends will be able to make it to the wedding in SA.

So I *gasp for breath* am putting my foot down.

No stag party.
Party at our house for friends of both of us (assuming its kind of finished by then).

Look forward to the fallout - given the way wedding planning seems to go, sure there'll be some arguments.

Any suggestions would be much appreciated.

Sid update: all fine and dandy, although not happy about the football - and believe me, he knows a thing or too about crap.

She's just a devil woman!

God w2b is scary.

I've just witnessed my fiance calmly and with incredible self assurance destroying our useless electricians. I've never in my life seen two grown men cower like children before the head mistress like that. Bear in mind that one of the electricians is a young, healthy guy around six foot and we have personally witnessed the other carrying an ancient oven out of the kitchen single handed. W2b on the other hand is around five foot four and deceptively feminine.

Maybe its a South African thing. Maybe we British are just not used to a nation populated by people whose sole response to any kind of frustration is not to tut and whisper how disappointed they are with the service. Maybe with the difficult recent history that South Africa has had, coupled with the difficulties of having a whole multitude of national languages their people are used to making their present felt. Maybe the slightly skewed view that blinkered non-South Africans have of that country means that they expect to have a gun pulled on them at any moment. I don't know. But boy is it impressive and - it would seem so far - effective.

My role in the whole thing was pretty negligible. I had an excuse, as I was emptying the rather fragrant chemical toilet from the caravan (cheers Sid). Even if I didn't though, I wouldn't have wanted to deprive w2b of her fun. She's been looking forward to this for a while now.

Over the next few days, as the opportunity presents itself I will be furthering the misconceptions that our now timid electricians have of South Africans. They will be subtly subjected to (wholly fictional) stories of w2b's experiences in her home country. Tackling workers at knife point. Bypassing the legal system to retrieve money she's been owed. Hell, I might even hint that she keeps weapons in the caravan and is not afraid to use them.

All in all, what with the bathroom now being finished and England hopefully about to demolish Northern Ireland in the football and Australia in the cricket, quite a satisfying end to the day.

Just as an addendum to yesterday's rant I was sent this link as an illustration of the kind of subtle bigotry that Katrina has uncovered:

http://www.wonkette.com/politics/ap/index.php#123124

Lets have a big debate!

W2b and I have been living in a bit of a state of heightened emotion lately. So its not been the best time to engage us in any kind of emotive discussion.

Unfortunately a discussion group that we both belong to did exactly that today.

It started as quite a high minded piece on the culpability or otherwise of Bush and his administration in the whole Katrina situation. After the initial "no-one's to blame for a natural disaster" chit-chat came the inevitable drawing up of sides between the liberals and the conservatives.

Now I can engage in impassioned discourse without getting too emotionally battered most of the time. Often I'll revel in remaining impassive as I prick holes in the arguments put to me. But as I said, today was not the day for me to remain impassive.

I think what got me really angry were not the pro-Bush (or to be generous, anti-anti-Bush) sentiments, but the views below the surface that the argument uncovered.

It seems like there are a lot of people, irrespective of their geographic location, who have a disturbing view of the less fortunate in our respective societies. The sentiments that I found most shocking were:

• No matter how poor you are, you must be stupid if you don't get out of a potential disaster area in time.
• Most of the people who stayed did so because they wanted to - and that the information about how bad the situation was going to be was freely available.
• The people who stayed in the area where so off their heads on drugs, they wouldn't pay attention to the warnings.
• If you are poor, its your own doing - either because you're lazy or because you're stupid.
• Granted, your wealth had an influence on whether or not you'd survive. But so be it, "life's not fair".
• Why should we get emotional about what's happening there, its not going to help anyone? (personally I just found this a bit pathetic, but it certainly got w2b angry).

I find it very difficult to carry on a reasoned discussion with people who hold these kinds of views. Its easy enough to have a rational discussion, where you present evidence and argue its validity. But when you are talking to people who come from such a differing moral standpoint I really struggle. All you can hope to do is try to start them thinking and perhaps hope that one day they're in a situation where they have to rely on the charity of others and that when that happens they are treated better than they would treat others.

In related News, I hear that Bush is to launch an enquiry. That's good news. Sure to be a probing, unbiased enquiry.

Closer to home, the house is still going to hell in a hand basket. At least we have an almost complete bathroom (thankyou, thankyou, thankyou Dolphin - I can't praise their workmen enough and I want everyone to know that if you need a bathroom, they are the people to go to). That should make things a lot easier when I come to change Sid. He's getting a little itchy you see and our temporary setup here actually meant that he leaked a bit on Saturday night. Believe me, that's not a situation you want to be in when you've got minimal sanitation, its dark and you've only got lighting in one room.

Gamba

Gamba
Originally uploaded by Sid and the pig.

Part dog, part amphetamine junky Gamba is the brains of the outfit.

If there’s any trouble, you can guarantee Gamba has caused it – even if he manages to run off and leave Zulu to take the blame. Gamba is the one that finds the escape routes in any barricades we try to put up. Gamba is the one that, after Zulu has retrieved the latest stuffed toy will utterly eviscerate the corpse.

Gamba is mummy’s little baby. He does spend his time on his mum’s knee – one of the advantages of the fact that he stopped growing around two months after we brought him home. He’s also a little… well… deformed. His legs are wonky, meaning that when he stands he looks a bit like a ballerina. But his mummy and daddy still love him… even if he is a bit broken… and a bit mental… and still wees and poos in the house.

(It actually seems a bit weird how much we love our pets once I write it down)

Zulu

Zulu
Originally uploaded by Sid and the pig.

If Gamba is “The Brain” then Zulu is “Pinky”.

Zulu is taller and more elegant than his brother and so desperate to please it can be quite pathetic. You see, Zulu has a tiny, tiny brain. He spends most of his time loping around wondering what he can do to get praise.

Zulu is completely dominated by his smaller brother and does all the fetching and carrying for him. When you throw a ball Zulu is the one that runs after it and brings it back. Gamba just waits to ambush him and then steals it out of his mouth.

Zulu is daddy’s little baby and would spend all of his time sitting on my knee, but unfortunately he’s too big and has to harrumph off and lay on the floor.

*Yawn*

Its been a slow day today. Progress on the house has been so slow as to be almost un-noticeable. The bathroom is coming on well, but as for the rest...

Work was quite eventful but as I'm still wary of talking about that it may have to wait till another day.

So you'll have to satisfy yourself with some ramblings about our family - seems appropriate as w2b seems to be feeling broody. Plus it gives me a chance to include some cute pics (see above)... aw bless.

Wuthering Heights (1)

Wuthering Heights (1)
Originally uploaded by Sid and the pig.

See - Britain can be pretty!

(Note lack of rain, all you doubters overseas)

Wuthering Heights (2)

Wuthering Heights (2)
Originally uploaded by Sid and the pig.

Where's Heathcliffe?

(Believe it or not its actually very sunny)

Wuthering, wuthering, wuthering heights... It's me

Been a lovely day today.

Was warm and sunny so we decided to take advantage of that and go and see some of the sites that this little isle of ours has to offer. Going site seeing is the kind of thing that feels disturbingly middle-aged when you're just a couple in your late twenties or early thirties. Luckily w2b being foreign and our best friends here actually being middle-aged gives us plenty of excuse.

So off we toddled: me, w2b, sid and our friends. Off over the border into England (hehehe, those of you not reading from overseas will understand that this isn't exactly a border crossing with passports and guards wearing ray-bans), over the pennines into the strange world that is Yorkshire. Down through the mill towns into the village of Haworth - or as it seems to be becoming - Brontelandtm.

Now, I've never been much of a Bronte fan. So the house where they lived was slightly lost on me. But I'm always one for pottering around, old man style. Getting fish and chips. Looking through shops selling tat. Ooohing and furniture that we can't afford, let along find a place for in the house. Trawling through old bookshops wondering which cool smelling book to buy (or is it just me that likes the smell of old books?).

After wandering through the high street a couple of times and starting the flag in the humidity (or maybe just being unaccustomed to going up hills on foot) we decided to gorge ourselves on cream teas. If you're not acquainted with the cream tea it's a particularly healthy blend of heavy scone, sticky jam and rich cream. We didn't walk very far after that.

To top off the tourist thing we then went off to the moors for a bit of a picnic. With a wicker picnic basket and everything! If I can figure out how FlickR works I may even treat you to a view of the moors in the hazy sunshine (yes, we finally tracked down a cable. Seems we were looking for the wrong one all along. Good to see my University education in computers, not to mention my eight years working in IT, coming in to full effect).

So now we're back at the building site. We've got that nice Sunday evening feeling of fresh-air-tiredness and slightly over full (did I mention that we got fudge too?).

Sid enjoyed the trip but was a bit disappointed by the toilet facilities - we're not very good at providing for tourists in this country.

"Bloody" women

Its that time again. The time when w2b turns from the most incredible woman I know to a shadow of her former self.

25 days of the month she's the best company you can imagine. She's funny, she's laid-back, she laughs at the slightest opportunity. For those other few days she's a whirling dervish of aggression. Add into the mix the temporary accommodation we're living in and you have a volatile mix.

The weird thing is that we spend so much time together that I'm starting to get sympathy PMS. I've been grumpy all day, shuffling around the house like a teenager. I've had a headache. I've been alternating between sulking and snapping. I got into a strop because the electrics kept tripping when I was trying to boil the kettle. I sulked when, after w2b bought a camp stove to boil water on I couldn't find the camping kettle. I hrumphed when I realised we couldn't get the football on our crumby freeview tv setup.

It wouldn't be so bad if w2b's PMS made her a fragile, tearful wreck. But she seems to revel in the lunacy that it allows her to give reign to. So while I'm shuffling and mumbling around she's swearing at pedestrians that dare to step into our path and turning to me with a maniacal gleam in her eye and a devilish grin on her face. As I wait for her in the car park she gleefully describes how she tore apart the spotty shop assistants in the computer shop. Its one of the many, many occasions where you wonder which one's the man and which one's the woman in this relationship.

Its also one of the many reasons why I love her so much.

Bit of perspective, please

Its been a funny day. The sun is shining. Work has been pretty good. Its given me a chance to put this whole thing in perspective.

My afternoon has been spent alternating between a discussion on the existence of God and reading the posts of a guy blogging in New Orleans... oh, and working a bit too. It makes you look at things a little differently.

Its made me think that in spite of the hassle we're going through with the house, we don't have it bad at all.

We've got sanitation, we've got water, we've got some power and more than anything else we've got civilisation. There's a whole world out there - New Orleans is the most pressing example - that don't have some or any of these.

The question that keeps coming to me about New Orleans is how can this happen in America. I know natural disasters are just that - natural. So you can't blame anyone for them happening. But as with anything how we react to them is what defines us. In general, people care, people worry, people show support. But also, people murder, people loot and people take it as an opportunity to get what they can.

Surely the role of the government is to facilitate the caring and the supporting and to prevent the murder and looting. So what exactly are Bush and his people doing? This is the kind of thing that defines leaders. This is what they're supposed to get into politics for.

I know its probably not my place - I'm a Brit and I'm not physically doing anything to help. But I've been to the US. I've stayed with an average American family. I know that they are decent people. But their leader and the organisations that help keep him in place are letting them down.

As I write this, the news reports that he's cut short his holiday to go to the region. Cut short! Now! Days after the disaster! He's not even going to NO.

Its disgusting enough that so called developing nations are without basic human necessities. Its horrific when the wealthiest nation in the world lets its people descend into anarchy, disease and deprivation. While their leader plays cowboy on his ranch.

My heart goes out to the people trapped in this ravaged place and to those who have loved ones there.

Updates on Sid and other frivolity will have to wait till another day.

Getting better all the time...

A new month and I'm feeling increasingly optimistic, though without any particular reason I can put my finger on.

LBG is still doing his stuff and has pretty much finished the tiling. Just grouting left to do now. All we need are floor tiles, a toilet and a sink and the room will actually be a bathroom rather than a room with a bath.

NKG has finished preparing the kitchen and has made a nice job of it.

Our other workmen are still on holiday so no progress there. Boy are they in for a shock when w2b gets to speak to them.

The dogs are seemingly getting somewhere with their obedience. They are at least prepared to go outside and do their stuff. If only they could get it into their tiny, tiny minds that they're not supposed to do anything in the house then they'd be perfect. They're even going outside off the lead without running, lemming-like into the main road that our house backs on to.

Work was pretty good. Wary of revealing too much and encountering a dooce style situation. So the edited version goes something like this:

*Our company* provides *certain services* to *certain clients*. I'm responsible for a *major aspect of this service* and w2b is responsible for the *biggest of these clients*. The *two people in charge* of *this project* for *the client* came in to talk to us today about *another phase of the project* when the *service* will be largely handed over to them...

God this is frustrating. Suffice to say the meeting went well, with much big-headedness and mutual back slapping on my and w2b's part.

Don't think I'll be talking much about work in future.

Well, got to say TTFN. Sid needs changing and then we're off to get take away and go visit friends. Be nice not to be going there purely so that we can use their bathroom for once.

Take care, dear reader.