Is THIS the Playground of the Broken Heart?

Hello friends,

How've you been?

Missed me? I've missed you all... In the past eight months since I last blogged - You remember, it was about my daughter running away to live with her boyfriend like a thief in the night* Did you know that a few of the 'Agencies' that publish stuff that makes you think around the Internet picked that up and it was quite popular for a few minutes. They did the same with my piece about trigger warnings too, if your remember, which was lovely - I went all warm and fuzzy for a swift matter of moments.

So now, much as Randy Quaid's character, Russell Casse, said as he nosedived upwards... Wait, can you nosedive upwards? is it a noseclimb? Is noseclimb actually a word? From now-on "Noseclimb" shalt be the word that one Chimping Dandyist can use to identify themselves to a similarly encumbered person - Don't say I never give you buggers anything.

Anyway, Dennis Quaid, noseclimbing into the alien ship in Independence Day with a jaunty, "Hello Boys, I'm back!" - Which is what I'd like to say to you, because I sort of am. Kinda. It won't be every day by any means. More like once a month hopefully - At the moment that's the plan, maybe on a Friday or something, as I don't work Friday afternoons anymore.

Anyway, back to what I was originally going to talk about.  Obviously a lot of water has passed under my own personal bridge since last year, some ploots** of it more oily and foul smelling than others. But the three main ones that spring instantly to mind are:

1: I have finally self-published the book that I swore I would never self-publish.

Yeah, I know, can you smell the disappointment in my voice?  I had always said (And still do whisper to myself when I am locked alone in my damp writing tower and the rain is lashing against the leaded windows, the interior lit only by the dour flashes of lightning) that I would get the Windspider Chronicles published by a bricks and mortar publisher, with launch events and regional rights and a Korean language version. Etc. 

So, true to my word, on the 4th April, I pressed the button that would self-publish 'Volume 1 - Child of Air' into the feverish hands of a waiting public. You can get it on Amazon - That link is to Amazon UK, but it's available on most of the Amazon sites that serve various countries / continents. Trigger Warning: It's only in English. 

One of the few things that I did to try and convince myself that it was a real book, in much the same way that Pinocchio needed reassurance that he was a real boy, was to commission a professional cover artist to design the cover. This is what it looks like now.

By the unfairley talented David R. Shires at TheImageDesigns.Com

Looks bloody ace doesn't it? You should nip off and buy it, if you're poor, or you don't have space in your house for real books you can even buy it for The Kindle - or move house, which would be better in the long run.

2: I have become a Freemason.

Yes, the chaps who wear blindfolds and aprons and roll their trouser legs up at any available opportunity. We all ride goats and there's a mystical secret handshake, we can count on woodland creatures for help if we ever stray from the clearly signed path and go for an unscheduled trek into the undergrowth and I have a limited control over the prevailing weather conditions***

To be honest for me, being a Freemason is all about the camaraderie, the fraternity and the 'giving something back' through charity - No, really, I realise that doesn't sound like me in the slightest, but you should know that people can really change when they get old and worry about being closer to death - We try to pack some good Karma in whilst we can. Also we all get together for a slap-up feed and a few jars about once a month, which has got to be worth the price of entry alone.

As an aside, I'm happy to answer any questions that I can about general Freemasonry that you care to leave in the comments - Sometimes the answer will be, "Sorry, can't tell you that." But I promise I'll do my best to answer what I can.

3: I've had a stroke.

See, told you I was getting old. Well I say it was a stroke - It was actually a TIA, or Transient Ischaemic Attack. It lasted about fifteen minutes and I felt fine afterwards. I even drove myself to casualty (Safety tip, don't do that ever - There's a slim chance of something like an 'aftershock' happening a short time after your attack, which is something that you don't want happening whilst you're driving, you'd be putting innocent people in danger - Call an ambulance - In fact I'll go further and say that your consultant will tell you that can't drive for about a month afterwards. They're usually pretty clever, you should listen to them about things like this.)

So what happened? I was sitting at my desk at work when over the course of ten seconds, I went blind and I lost the feeling in all the diodes down my left hand side, couldn't move my arm or leg on that side of my body. I sat there in wonderment as I tried to feel my gums, which had also gone numb, and trying to talk - Which is a bit of a chore with only half a working mouth - fifteen minutes later, I was as right as rain again - All that it's really left me with is a solid gold excuse to get out of anything stressful at work, just by saying, "But I've had a stroke!" and wincing as if I have a headache and a need to take Clopidogrel tablets for the rest of my natural life.

But hey, it could have been a lot worse. The only difference between a TIA and a 'real' stroke is that the TIA's effect is transient i.e. there's no lasting damage - But I like to think that even if there had have been, I would have been able to find something funny for you guys to share about my situation.

Anyway, it's time for me to get back to the real world for a while, feel free to leave any questions, comments or naked photographs of yourself in the comments section below, and I'll get around to them as soon as I can.

Byesies!




*No, as it happens she hasn't come home as yet - She's set some particular way-points for that to even be considered, which have yet to come to pass.

**Yes, I have invented another word usage, 'Ploot' is a subset of a certain volume of water in a river, to be used when you really can'y be bothered to look and see if there is already a word for this.

***Some or all of these statements are made up - But then I would say that wouldn't I?

Deconstruction Complete

I just love Charity Shops (Thrift Stores, for my legion of American readers) - They're a veritable Alladin's cave of dead people's stuff and broken toys. My local 'shopping centre' has about seven and every time I go out to buy the ingredients for an Ocelot Stew, or Sweet and Sour Crispy Peacock I try to pop into as many as I can. I don't neccessarily want to buy anything - It's kind of like a trip to the museum, but with added mothballs.

There is nothing you can't get (OK, there are a huge number of things that you can't get, just shuddup and go with it) and if you wait in the store long enough, you will see every single consumer item that has been sold in the past hundred years or so. I've seen everything from Hello Kitty Handbags to Victorian Violet Wands on those hallowed shelves (Before you ask, no, I didn't buy it, there was too much month left at the end of the money). We all need to support these places, they can't be allowed to die out.

Don't get me wrong, for me, it's nothing to do with the Charity, for all I care the money could go straight to Albanian gangsters who live only to wallpaper their houses with kittens' eyelids. It's the whole digging through the crap aspect of it that appeals to me, a bit like you guys must feel reading this Blog... Most of the time it's all odd shoes and canteens of cutlery with all the knives missing - But occasionally you'll find an original copy of Action Comics Number 1 - In A1 condition. OK, so someone's drawn a penis on the cover in sharpie, but still..

Anywho, I was in one a few months ago, digging through a tub of naked Action-Men (GI-Joes), odd Sticklebricks and Matchbox cars that had so few wheels between them that they'd only be completely at home in Back to the Future 2, when the very worthy lady behind the counter asked;

'Are you looking for anything in particular?'

Now, I froze, because I didn't want to say, 'No, I'm just pretending to be an archaeologist' - Which was the sad truth, so I replied with the first thing that came into my head, 'I don't suppose you have any Lego do you?'

She thought for a second, she actually did that thing where you tap your index finger on your lips and look up (which I know you're all doing now, so stop it!) then said,

'No, I don't think so, but if you give me your number, I'll give you a call if some comes in'

Ok, I mean she wasn't completely unattractive in a 'Person who works in a charity shop and probably has a part share in a rescued pony' kind of way, but I couldn't take the chance that she was hitting on me, after all, I'm a married man... So, in true tabloid style, I made my excuses and left.

A week or so later, I was walking past the same shop when I saw what I thought was a first edition StarScream in the window (It turns out it wasn't) - As I was deciding whether to in, the worthy lady's face appeared and mouthed 'OO-ee God, sumly Go!' (You're doing it again... stop it!). She beckoned me into the store like Morpheous asking Neo to show him Kung-Fu and said,

'It's just come in, you can have first look!' And then she did that excited stiff handclap thing.

It took me a good few seconds to figure out what the blinking-flip she was talking about, and I still didn't twig until she brought out a cardboard box with Lego in it.

'I'm afraid it's not all Lego, but feel free to sort out what you don't want.'

So, picture the scene, avid readers, I'm sat on the floor, in a busy-ish Charity shop, sorting out a box of mixed toys that was about 80% Lego, when she came up and said,

'Let me know when you've got that one sorted and I'll bring you the next one'

Now, I did that thing where you go all slittly-eyed and look from side to side (Again? Stop it!) and said, 'There's more?'

'Yeah, a couple of small ones'

So all in all there were three decent sized boxes of Lego and a box of assorted rubbish, which I kindly re-donated to them. Quite gingerly I asked, 'And how much would you like for all these?'

'Well, I'm sorry, but Lego's quite expensive to buy isn't it, I'm afraid I can't let it go for less than £20...'

I nearly pooped an actual kitten in my rush to get out my wallet.

'Tell, you what,' I said, 'It's all in a good cause isn't it? I'll give you £25.'

You know, I think she was genuinely touched, and I desperately tried not to blurt out 'But it's worth, like £200 Muhahahahaaha!' and twirl my moustache.

So, once I'd filled out the Gift-Aid certificate - It seemed the right thing to do. I picked up the three boxes of Lego and struggled out of the shop. Now, I didn't have the car with me because the shops are only about 10 minutes walk from my house. So I had the two open boxes balanced on top of each other in front of me, and a box, with what I thought was a fairly close-fitting lid, gripped with the spare fingers of my right hand... You can guess what happened, by my usage of 'what I thought was', right?

The lid came off the box, and spewed about a kilo of lego all over the pavement. Embarrassing enough you might think, but no, it chose to let go at a traffic island, on a three lane road, at rush hour, with halted traffic.

I don't think Bono got anywhere near that amount of applause when he anounced that he had single-handedly saved the entire African population from starvation - And to get the same amount of 'Woooo!'s I would have to have been wearing a severely short skirt and little else. My face actually felt like it was about to spontaneously combust.

Was it Karma? - Would it have happened if I'd offered what some people might say was a 'fair' price?

Yeah, it probably would... Because even though they say that Karma's a bitch, she's also got a bloody good sense of humour.