Saturday, 31 July 2010

It's a ball.

A day spent out and about doing nothing very much has proved to be just the ticket yet again. As you can see from the picture, Mrs D found it very important to get Jack a new ball. As you can also see, it's much bigger then him.

For some reason it became very important for him to try and carry it all the way back to the car. A task he failed. However, his Mum put in a good effort and the giant eight ball is now taking up a large portion of our front room for the foreseeable future.

A quite frankly obvious step

Remember when you were at school and people told you to make the most of it because life gets harder when you get older? Well I heard that to, and to be honest thought it might be a bit of a miss truth, bullshit even.  At forty two I'm starting to think there might have been a grain of truth in what those folk said. So, if indeed this is the case, surly the answer can be found in the tireless pursuit of childhood and the simplicity there in.

I guess before this simple, and quite frankly obvious step is taken it might be well to briefly consider just exactly what my childhood was like. My early memories were for sure good and although ma and pa split up when I was little, I know they both loved me very much and as I lurched into primary school things continued in a similar vain, generally good.

Then came my early teens, and trust me when I tell you, something changed, big time. All of a sudden things seem to stop fitting and the stuff the once seemed so simple slipped into the distant past. When I stay stopped fitting I taking a bit things like my feet, legs, arms etc. All previous co-ordination slipped away and the desire to sleep became overwhelming. Also, as hormones flooded my body the desire to do other stuff became overwhelming to, but that's a different story.

The thing is, as I look back on my childhood, it's easy to think it was all sunshine and happiness. The truth is that although it had is great points, often it seemed nothing short of hard fucking work, and I don't much like hard fucking  work. Before my teens I had no say, during my early teens no one would listen and by the end of my teens I couldn't be arsed anyway.

So, is reverting to childhood the answer? to be honest, I don't really think so. For me the answer is in finding a balance between behaving like a kid, and behaving like an adult. More often then not I seem to screw it up, but I'll keep trying safe and secure in the knowledge I'll get it right from time to time, and when I do it really is a great feeling.           

Thursday, 29 July 2010

A very cool thing.

It's been a bit of a tough ride lately and out of it has come some realizations that have in turn triggered a the old gratitude button once more. I guess its easy for gratitude to quietly slip away and I find myself  pissing and moaning about the slightest thing. What's been relieved to me in quite a big way over the last few days is I'm surrounded by people who not only care for me very much, but also stand by me when the going gets tough. This I must say is a very cool thing, how could that not provoke gratitude.

Monday, 26 July 2010

I don't think we ever forget our first.

So the new car in the Dobbo household seems to be a success, she's been out of town and nothing bad happened, this really is a good thing as I work through the process of getting to trust a new car. I takes time. It's a funny thing how cars come and go, and how from time to time we seem to get attached to the bloody things. I can be like that and have been a few times in the past, non more so then with my first car.

In the early eighties I became the proud owner of a hand painted mat black mini 850. Bereft of any documentation what so ever I set off in this mighty beast of a machine in search of the many promises a teenager on the road could wish for. Surely the girls would come flocking once they seen I now had the word at my feet. Sadly this was not to be the case, in fact the flocking came from the local police who seemed to take exception to the fact I had no driving licence. This was to be the beginning of a long, long relationship between me and the boys in blue.

Nevertheless, although my time in the mini was Short lived, I did manage to get a few weeks out of the little peach. I would belt round the local lanes like some sort of demented squirrel heading for Eau Rouge on the final lap at Spa. In this little hand painted mat black pellet I ruled as King of my very own little word, I was untouchable. Sadly the mini was far from untouchable and the long touchy arm of the law eventually fell upon her like a knife through butter.

Her final resting place? Alfie's, the local scrapyard. By this time she wasn't running so well so we towed her with my mates mk 3 Cortina. For some reson it was decied I would do the towing and as I lurch off with five foot of hairy rope between us, I again felt that untouchable feeling, I knew nothing could possibly go wrong.

Obviously I saw the in coming John Deere, it was a big tractor, how could I miss it? As I homed in on the fast approaching passing place I knew I was safe to simply drop her down a gear and floor the puppy.

All I felt was a slight twang as I accelerated through the wet muddy layby. Turns out this was not the experience that befell the black pellet. For I had failed to consider the affect high speed Cortina wheels have on wet mud.

As I walked back down the lane I could see her wedged fast in the front wheel of the tractor. My mate screaming obscenities at me that brought my parentage into question. Turned out that the mud flicked onto his windscreen at exactly the moment he needed to see where he was going, who would have though it eh? The rest of the journey to Alfie's was slow and somber. Oddly enough I didn't get to drive the Cortina again that day, in fact it was quite a while before I drove it again.

And that was that, the black pellet was gone. To be honest it was without a doubt the worst car I have ever owed, and I dare say driven. But it was mine for a brief moment in time, and it was my first. I don't think we ever forget our first.

Sunday, 25 July 2010

A big telly.

Just watched Top Gear and the thing they did on the great Ayrton Senna took me back to the way my life was the day he died. Like many motor racing fans, I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing the day he died. My life was so very different back then.

I lived I a dark dull bedsit smaller then most of the prison cells I've ever been in. My TV was one of then things that are also a radio and had a 6inch screen in black and White. Picture quality was, as you might expect, piss poor. Yet despite this, I would sit on the edge of my bed every two weeks and watch the Grand Prix.

I'd been a GP fan for years by then and remember clearly thinking this is not good when Senna crashed, but the idea he might die just never entered my head. How could it, the man was untouchable. But die he did. It's an odd thing that I found myself crying for the loss of someone I never knew. Why is it we do that?

That was a long time ago now and my life is nothing like it was back then, yet tonight I find tears again rolling down my face as I again remember the late, and in my opinion great Ayrton Senna. Right here, right now, I'm cool with that and my TV is a lot bigger and in HD.

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Friday, 23 July 2010

just bugger

Found my self blogging earlier today and really getting in to it, as you do. Before I knew it I had rambled not only about our next door neighbour smashing his car, but also about my first car and its sad demise. Reading it back I found myself laughing out loud so with a feelimg of glee in my heart I hit the publish button. Moments latter a message flashed accross the screen to tell me the computer had crashed, bugger, just bugger............

Wednesday, 21 July 2010

The smiley folk

So a replacement for our beloved ford escort has now been found. The weapon of choice in the Dobbo household is now the cutting edge of Japanese technology, The Nissan Almera. A lustful little best with a 1.4 fuel injected power plant to rival even the biggest pushbikes on the road. Suspension and road handling has (I suspect) been over seen by the ferry technicians at P&O with the internal trim  clearly designed by one of those monks who spend all day looking at rocks..... And I love it, and I'll tell ya why.

Historicaly I have almost always found buying a new car to be massively stressful. Avid readers will have seen me blog about this before, but not this time. This time I would almost go as far as to say, it was enjoyable. Except of course for those bastards at the insurance company.

Last night we loaded up the little old Cleo with the Dobbo family and set off to have a look at the Almera. With hope in our hearts we arrived to be greeted by what I would simply describe as a nice lady. While Mrs D and Jack sat in the front room chatting and playing I was treated to an overview of the car and offered a test drive by said nice Lady's Dad, he to was a very nice man. As I wallowed in niceness I made my way through the check list I had cunningly complied with the help of honest John.com.

Shortly after we agreed a deal and I was on the phone to the insurance company (Bastards). The journey home proved uneventfully and up to now the as yet unnamed Almera has shown its self to be just about exactly what we were looking for. So now I find myself asking the question, can it be this simple? Is that it? Are we now to simply enjoy years of trouble free motoring like the smiley folk we see in the TV adds? Truth is, I havent got a clue. What I do know, is right here right now things are OK.

Monday, 19 July 2010

I can hear a squeak

So after almost four years of dedicated service, our little old ford escort has finally expired. In a blaze of steam infested glory she ground to a halt on the side of the M27 yesterday afternoon on the way back from a committee meeting in Brighton, service eh?

The little girls head gasket exploded as she rolled to a stop hissing and smoking with rage and I suspect just a little fury. Shortly after a very nice man from the AA turned up to transport her lifeless body back to Dobbo central. As we pulled away I think I heard one last gasp for life, but alas, it was to late, she was gone.

So now the mine field that is buying a new car begins, and a total fucking mine field it is. You see the problem with buying a new car is that the people who sell them, seem to more often then not, turn into complete and utter tossers. It would appear that some thing happens to car sellers that make it absolutely imperative to lie like a bastard.

However, I know this is not always the case. I'm sure the world still holds one or two people who are willing to put honesty before profit, I just need to find them. Of course even if I do, that won't stop the weeks and weeks of paranoia that come every time I buy a new car. That utter certainty I can hear a squeak that is surely going to result in the rear axial overtaking us in the fast lane of the motorway. Still, Ill have a go, as I always do. Maybe someone will surprise me. 

Sunday, 18 July 2010

Time for some sleep I think.

For the first time in longer then I can remember, I can't get to sleep!!! This used to be such a big deal for me and to be honest, I'm not overly happy about it right now. Especially since I need to drive to Brighton tomorrow and it's a meeting I can't get out off. I guess my cunning plan to have a little nap this afternoon has bitten me in the arse some what.

So what of today? well, to say I've been a little on the edge would be quite an understatement, something on par with Dillinger robbed a bank or two me thinks. The truth of the matter is I've spent a good part of the day so far up my own arse, it's been hard to see whats been going on in the world. Although I must admit it's been warm, if a little muggy. Generally when that sort of day comes along I manage to simply keep my mouth shut, but not so much today.

Anyho, today has now been yesterday for the last two and a half hours so I guess I should get over it and plod on with the day in hand, or at least the night in hand. And of course I'd do that if I could get to bloody sleep. Maybe counting sheep is the answer..... One, two, three, four, five.... No that's not working so what now? Ive had a look on facebook and no one is about, I've done the same on twitter with the exact same results and to be quite frank, I can't be bothered to talk to myself because I always know what I'm gona say.

Maybe now I can shut this thing down and go to bed, per chance even sleep. Before I do I'm going to leave you with on of my all time great jokes.
Two cows are standing in a field and one turns to his mate and says "Moooooo"
Instantly his mate turns back and says "you bastard, I was going to say that"
Time for some sleep I think.
 

Thursday, 15 July 2010

If the glove was on the other foot

Ironic, a word that's plagued me for many years, sometimes with a smile and sometimes with a mighty frown. Today I find it particularly ironic that as Mrs D celebrates one year free from the beast that is nicotine, I'm smoking a cigarette. Because I enjoy it? no, because it makes me look cool? no. So why? I hear you ask. The truth of the matter is I yet again believed the age old lie that it would be different this time, that if I smoked one, the obsession would go away. Of course this has once more proved to be bullshit and all I want to do is smoke more.

You see the facts are quite clear, I'm simply not a good smoker. Nor for that matter have I any reason to believe I ever will be. Right about now my Dad is confined to his bed in a old peoples home with very little chance of leaving other then in a box. The main reason? smoking like mad mick mac smoke all his life. That age old image of a real cool dude is kind of blown out of the water when you see someone slowly suffocating to death. It's just not the sort of thing that drags you in with a vision of hope. Yet I still smoked.

So whats the answer in the face of such pure insanity. Long term I'm not really sure. What I do know is that this is a merry go round I've been on many times and to be honest, I'm getting just a little bit dizzy. All I know for sure is that I've dumped the smokes before, so I can do it again. Seems the most important thing I can do is to never give up on giving up. And as is always the case, now is as good a time as any. Stop it today and I can say my last smoke was on the same day Mrs D celebrated her one year. I'm fairly sure from the dizzy heights of her spiritual mount it'll go down well. I know if the glove was on the other foot, it would for me.

Wednesday, 14 July 2010

The nut house

So back to work I went and on day two I can't help thinking!!! Talk about hitting the ground running. I guess in truth that's one of the things I like about my job, the chaos. I can say without a doubt, I ain't got a clue what the next day will bring. So back at it and on I trudge, not so much in porridge any more, but never the less still trudging.

A few days off has really highlighted how much I enjoy spending time at home with Jack. I think it's partly because I can act like a little kid and partly because I still feel a bit guilty about not being around for Kyle and Luke. Avid readers of my blog will at this point note I seldom mention my two older sons. This is mostly down to me trying my best to run with the amends process and get to know them both again (hopefully) at their pace, not mine. My desire to manipulate situations is still far to strong.

In other news, my beloved laptop is still missing in action. It seems the doctor folk have been trying to collect it from the greatest minds Curry's could muster all to no avail. Turns out The name on the laptop (mine) didn't match up with the name on the collection sheet. Lets all join together in a collective prayer that these numb skulls don't decide an airline pilots job is the way to go. Amen

Monday, 12 July 2010

Four day weekend is over

Well here we are, rolling to the end of what has been a great four day weekend. So good I might even do it again. Its funny that if I put just a little bit of effort in, I can easily find some stuff to piss and moan about, laptop dieing etc. But why should I? tell me why? No, I can't think of one good reason either. You see, that's often been my trouble, I'll spent time searching for things to grump about instead of enjoying life as it is. Sounds dumb when I see it in front of me.

Any ho, the long weekend is over and tomorrow I trudge back to work. I guess it's a good thing I happen to have a job I really enjoy. Saying that, I may not have the same view by the time I finish tomorrow tea time. Time will, as always, tell. Just before I go, I heard another great Homer quote yesterday. He said, "Who made you Judge, Judy and executioner?" As always, wonderful.

Saturday, 10 July 2010

"the man that can"

My beloved laptop was dropped off at curry's this morning and will I'm told be sent away to the "man that can" for a dam good fixing. Turns out when I went down there the chap I spoke to was really helpful, though I suspect he was only about twelve.

It a funny thing that I had pretty much set myself up to deal with some halfwit who was going to try and tell me it was my fault and I was going to be charged for any repairs. Happily this has not (as yet) been the case. This leaves me clear to set about enjoying the day, nice.

Friday, 9 July 2010

Smoking

Sat down tonight to catch up with some work on the laptop and soon found myself having problems installing a driver I needed. No problem I thought, before I let it piss me off, I'll get the Mrs to help me out (she's normally quite good with this sort of stuff). Moments later my beloved laptop is spewing smoke and flashing like a demented banshee. By the look of things it's a short on the connection for the screen, my hope is the warranty will cover it and the good folk at Curry's can sort it out quickly. In truth, I fucking doubt it.

So here I am with no laptop, safe and secure in the knowledge that any repairs will more then likely end up with me losing every bit of information I have on the thing. I use my laptop a lot and right about now I've got a bit of a withdrawal thing going on. Thankfully I still have my trusty iPhone. If anything happens to that I will in all probability set out on a killing spree to rival anything that has gone before.

Tomorrow morning I will put my best smile on and trudge off down the road to curry's. Hoping for the best, I fully expect some little git is going to find a way to try and charge me an arm and possibly a leg to get my laptop fixed. Let's hope not eh?

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A great Homer Simpson quote. You've discovered my only weakness, I'm weak.

Wednesday, 7 July 2010

Judgement

I wonder where this "we shouldn't judge people" thing comes from. Seems to me that its one of those sounds great but is really a load of shite things. If we don't make split second on the spot judgements, how can we keep ourselves and our loved ones safe?  Maybe by the power of the non judgemental spiritual god like force of  carrot infused broccoli teabag pie.

I've often heard people say things like "you have no right to judge me" or even from time to time, "don't you dare judge me" To each and every one of my brothers and sisters who voice such views I simply say, sod off.

You see, I will judge you. I'd love to be able to say I won't but that would be so much crap. I do it all the time and I really don't want to change around that stuff. You see it helps keep me safe, it saves me getting upset and having to kill you and your family. Because of the gift called judgemental-ism, I can work out if your a complete twat and act appropriately. Seems like a touch of common sense to me.

However, within this I still need to look for just a little moderation. I need top be able to make my judgements and keep myself and my loved ones safe, of-course I do. But within that I need to also keep my little old ego at bay as best I can. The problem is that as soon as I start judging you, I'm setting myself up to judge myself as better then you, or once in a great while, worse. Either way it's a dodgy road for one such as I.

So what's the answer I hear you wonder. Well It seems to me that yet again It comes down to that old balance thing. I make my judgements, but try to not be judgemental. I work out where I stand In the pecking order then make sure I don't peck etc, etc. As is almost always the case, this stuff can be thunked until it can be thunked no more. The end result? the answer? I'm not really sure. Maybe we should all go away and thunk about it.      

Tuesday, 6 July 2010

Porridge between my toes

Thinking back over the last few weeks, or maybe even months, it feels like I've been trudging through porridge for ever. I guess it started when my dear old Micra was lost to the rear end shunt the marked her sad demise. It's funny how one such thing can lead to another. It's also quite humorous  how much thought can easily go into this shit. Truth is that's what it is, shit and it happens.

They reckon (who ever they are) a good old trudge is good for the soul, a builder of character if you will. Well that may be the case, but to be honest, I can't be arsed. The only thing I have much interest in is a quiet life. Trouble is a quiet life is no always exactly what's on offer. Sometimes its just not quiet, sometimes it is like trudging in porridge and sometimes, once in a great while, I need to shut the fuck up and accept I'm going to get porridge between my toes.

Monday, 5 July 2010

Maybe the best headline ever.

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Sunday, 4 July 2010

Ken is dead!!!

Just had an uncle from Newcastle ring and tell me how Ken had just died. Clearly he was very upset by this so I did what I do best, I simply listened and let him tell me all about the sad demise of Ken. As I quietly listened I couldn't help but wonder who the bloody hell Ken was, never the less, listen I did safe in the assumption he must have been an uncle or someone of that ilk. After about five minutes the call drew to its natural end and I left assuring my uncle that Ken would indeed be sadly missed, the great man that he was.

About ten minutes latter I received another call, this time with a sorry. Turns out my number had been called by mistake. I do not, nor have I ever know the man they once called Ken. Once in a great while I do something and when I look back at it I simply think, cock. It would have been far to simple for me to say "hang on, who's Ken", far to simple. The result of avoiding this simplicity is as ever the same. Rest in peace Ken.      

Saturday, 3 July 2010

Smile.


Seen a chap with a big sign saying free hugs today. It made me smile, it's important to smile, I try and do it lots and often.
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Friday, 2 July 2010

The whole obsessing thing

It's a funny thing, the effort that can sometimes go in to whatever the focus of our obsession  might be at any given time. At the moment Mrs D is hard at work trying to get iso4 working on her 3g iphone with multi tasking etc. She's been at it for sometime now and the stress is starting to show. Should I go for it and risk screwing the lot up? or should I just leave it she asks. This really is a damned if I do damned if I don't thing. Leave it and the obsession to multi task will continue, go for it and Mrs D might end up iphoneless.

The whole obsessing about anything has always been something I've tried to smile at. It's nothing new to me, for as long as I remember I've slipped in and out of obsession about one thing or another. Sex, drugs, clean finger nails, you get the picture? I guess it's about knowing the difference between a real obsession and a want that looks a bit like an obsession.

What I know right now is that I'm relatively free of that shit most of the time, not all of the time, but most. What I also know to be a fact is that at-least for now, Mrs D has an 3g running iso4 with all the extras of a 3gs. Sometimes the end result is worth the grief, only sometimes though.