“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn” (H.P. Lovecraft)

And so dear listener, earlier this week I sat as my creative juices failed to flow and looked at the screen in a mild state of panic. I was not too sure if I had anything to write about. Seriously. I had not been at my usual (paid) gig with the homeless for some time; I didn’t really want to talk about the football; I had received pioneering tales of an explorer’s life in Canada which I’m kinda keeping to myself; and also from a family in Robin Hood territory seeming to do things more dangerous than any abseiling or zipwiring done by myself and the good Doctor W, some time back.

The editing is highly seasonal. August and May are the big months and this has been the busiest August since I started. Yup. The money’s good and most folk pay up without any real hassle but there are limits to the number of times I want to hear about quantitative and qualitative models (Bryman 2001). After all it was my inability to cope with Research Methodology that deterred me from applying for a PhD. 😦

And you have no idea what it’s like to wake up at half past six, look at your phone (eh?) and realise it’s not the final 2,000 words you were expecting but 12,000 words. But you get up and wander through to the laptop, tell Skippy she shouldn’t be looking at those sites and get on the e-mail…….and it’s a Chinese person writing about the democratisation of China and in the Acknowledgements, there’s this little gem;

‘Finally, this is for those who resist injustice, promote human rights and democratization in China.’

And you want to do your best for the writer (and get paid as well). (I replaced the middle coma with ‘and who’)

Moving quietly on.

This week’s Faux-Pas of the Month was telling a friend, who was in Gartnavel for a urological prostate examination, to keep his pecker up……… 😛

I was on standby to do some media stuff for Prostate Cancer UK and the decision not to give Enzalutamide to men who are unable to take chemotherapy – whereas this drug could help see that their lives are prolonged – simplistic description, I know. I just know how fortunate I was in my treatment for this cancer and think giving realistic hope is good. But I was pleasantly surprised when I got a breakdown of coverage from the charity’s PR who attached this cryptic message;

P.S. Did you know you can buy instant chip shop curry sauce from ASDA. I did so recently, but have yet to see how it compares to the real thing… 🙂

Trust me, that is really un-nerving cos I have no idea what I write at times – but I do do it sober and substance free (and it relates to last week’s blog)

I did think of writing about Michelle Moan. I am ambivalent about the Honours List but it does mean something to those who accept honours and who stay quiet about them until announced – such as my hairdresser’s husband who uses a wheelchair and has been awarded a bit of the Empire or something for services to Sport and Charity and who did keep quiet about it.

Now who could have leaked Michelle’s possible elevation to the peerage to the press? And I hope it gets withdrawn. And I make no comment about any speculation about her tax arrangements.

And I don’t have a lot of time for wife-cheater Paul Hollywood and his smutty innuendos about cracks (in their cakes) when talking to women. And I certainly don’t need to be patronised by him by explaining to me what arlettes are. I mean surely everyone knows they are (read it slowly, Skippy) wafer-thin reverse puff-pastry biscuits that hail (slowly Skip) from south-west France.

And I make no comment about him being confused about what a crofter is/does by calling them peasants, but it does say a lot about his attitude towards people.

And finally, since the above is doom and gloom, here’s a joke;

I went into Gregg’s and bought a sandwich. Then a mate noticed that it had a blue wire, a red wire and a yellow wire sticking it out and said, ‘It might be a bomb.’ So I phoned the bomb squad and said that I had this sandwich with a blue wire, a red wire and a yellow wire sticking out and I was worried in case it was a bomb.

‘Is it ticking?’ they asked.

‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s cheese and onion.’ 😀 😀 😀

Cya, still wearing that badge and still keeping it simple.

Johnt850, getting real sick at looking at this screen but, hey, it’s money.

When you talk to people who have had bad experiences you often ask, ‘have you recovered?’ expecting a simple ‘yes’ and the same question could be put to me. The cancer? Yes – except I always worry. The alcohol dependency? Yes. I just don’t drink.

But I do know that those who take the Twelve Step Programme seriously (and not everyone who goes to AA does) see themselves as being continually in recovery and I respect this. I was recently talking to a female acquaintance of mine and our respective stories spilled out cos of what we were talking about.

We shared our experiences before we went into a meeting and benefitted from the experience. The hug at the end cements the share. And I walk away with a smile on my face. There is a brilliant, spiritual feel to recovery. I once spoke to a former BBC colleague in Central Station about her dad’s recovery and how much it meant to her and her family – also following the Twelve Step Programme.

The big thing is that we find something that helps and means something to us. And walk away with a smile on our face. It’s a choice. It’s our responsibility.

This is Dan, aka Withered Hand, from the King Creososte gig of a few days ago but without Pam.

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