Seven Sees.

Today, February 21, marks the seventh anniversary of this blog.  Seven years ago today this blog was born with the hopes of being part of a sharing, caring blogging community.  This I have realised.  During times of trouble, you've provided me with comfort, with encouragement.  For that, I'm profoundly grateful.  .

Seven sees me more determined than ever that we celebrate the differences and learn lessons from such diversity.

As of late, my interaction has been sporadic at best.  Overwhelming circumstances in my personal life have made my ability to focus on writing, a most difficult proposition.  Not only am I dealing with the upheaval of an impending move to a new place, I'm incessantly bombarded by a ruthless government that wont accept the huge amount of medical reports that confirm I'm not well.  Now, they are sending a health care professional to my house to perform a face-to-face assessment.

Over and over again, I'm having to dredge up the painful memories that I desperately try to move on from. Such evil irony.  They're making me sicker with the stress and anxiety.

It all gets too much.  Along with the constant hassle by the British government, my neighbours are becoming intolerable, yet again.  Thank goodness I may not have to tolerate my neighbours for much longer. I worry about my son as he will have to find his own place.  I worry about our beloved dog, Penny, during such unsettling times.

Seven sees me clinging onto my remaining fibres of positivity.  I must not allow the negativity to take me back to that horrible place of hell that nearly killed me.

Seven sees me still believing that there will be positives out of the perceived negatives.  The flickering flame of hope will not be extinguished.  I visualise that day when I can breathe.  A day when suffocation by those who would sabotage my yearning to live in peace, will finally leave me alone.

Seven sees me, no matter what happens, that I'll deal with it in a sober state.  Once upon a time, alcohol was my love, my best friend.  One day, my "best friend" nearly killed me.  I got scared, saw the tears in the eyes of my nine year old son as I lay dying in hospital.  That was the day I turned it around, got better and became a free man.  A day, nearly sixteen years ago, forever etched in my heart.

Seven sees this free man defiantly refusing to be chained.  Resolute in his determination to see this through.  I thank you for being here.

Happy Valentine's Dog.

February 14 is always a hectic day at my house.  I look out the kitchen window and see the convoy of "articulated" postal lorries.  Yes, in Britain, trucks apparently have the ability to speak coherently and fluently.

One postal worker after another brings up bulging sacks to my door.  Bulging sacks, as in overflowing sacks of Valentine's Day cards from my zillions of adoring, downright scary fans.  My house is now like a mountain of love.  Peaks of postal wishes, right up to the ceiling,  So much so, I've hardly enough room to type on my keyboard.
Just a moment.  I took over this posting that was stored in draft.  Don't be fooled by my deluded human.  All those Valentine's Day cards were for me, yes me, Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar!  And yep, I switched the comments back on.  Pawsitive wishes and doggy kisses, your way, Penny xx

A Car Radio And A Foghorn.

Gosh and golly!  Real sorry I haven't been posting much lately.  I understand just how important my posts are to you.

Okay, I've been extremely busy with personal situations.  So much so that I haven't been able to delight you with my must-read postings.  Delusional moment is over.

Here's a short posting.   Feel free to thoroughly skim through this short posting.

A couple of nights ago.  Two in the morning.  I'm trying to get some sleep.  I cannot sleep thanks to the *thump*, *thump*, *thumping* racket I can here outside my bedroom window.  "Fantastic!",  I thought.   "Who the f**k is blaring out music at this unearthly time of the morning?  What inconsiderate pricks!"

I get dressed to go out and investigate.  Getting dressed is a good idea.  Out to the street and the noise becomes louder and louder.  To my embarrassment, the noise is coming from my car radio.  Somehow, it has switched on.  Oops, better open the car door and switch off the radio.  Actually, remove the radio from its casing.

For the first time in several days, I notice a thick layer of ice and frost on my car.  Predictably, all my locks are frozen solid.  Music blaring, gone two in the morning and I can't get into my car.  I visualise irate neighbours coming out to scream at me.  I start to worry about the police arresting me for disturbing the peace.

After several minutes, I manage to get the lock working on the passenger side.  I switch off and remove the offending radio from the casing.  I sneak back into the house.  Try to get some sleep.  No luck, as I'm kept awake by the foghorn aka my neighbour's snoring.

Speaking of switching off, I've switched off the comment section.  I'm trying to comment on as many other blogs as possible.  Time to try and catch up.  After all, my comments on other blogs are the subject to frantic bidding on eBay.  One of my comments was auctioned off at the princely sum of five cents.  Fancy that!

What The Duck?

We send you Dr.Who.

We send you Downton Abbey.

America, y'all sent us, The Pukes of Hazzard and now delight us in the UK with Dork Dynasty. Wait a sec.....Sorry....America, y'all sent us, The Dukes of Hazzard and now delight us in the UK with Duck Dynasty.

Time to have some ducky-type spin-off shows.

Puddle-Duck Dynasty.

 Daffy Duck Dynasty.

 

 Count Duckula Dynasty.

Baby Daisy and Donald Duck Dynasty.

You Bet Your Life I Love Me Some Duck Soup Dynasty.

I know, what the duck?  Such a fowl posting.  

Dilute To Taste.

Before Sir Isaac Newton "discovered" gravity, things were up in the air.

If I look at bottle of shampoo that states, "For oily hair", does that mean it gives me oily hair?

Dilute to taste fruit juice.

I read on a bottle of fruit juice, "Dilute to taste."  Does that mean if I don't dilute it, I can't taste it?  I know, concentrate.  Perhaps doubly so. Why are "free range" products not free?

Note that 3 out of 4 bums, sorry, mums prefer the above brand.  You might also note that gender stereotypes persist in Britain.  New, easy start roll.  Exciting news for dogs and cats.

When I read, "New, improved toilet paper."  I most certainly hope it's new.  Imagine, "Used, improved toilet paper." Maybe "recycled" bog roll, loo roll. aka asswipe, is used toilet paper.  I shudder at the thought.

I went to a "Farmer's Market."  No farmers were for sale.  

When I go to an automated teller machine that boasts, "Free cash machine", why doesn't it give me free cash?

I went up to the checkout at the supermarket.  I noticed that the person before me put their debit card into a special machine.  The cashier asked the person, "Would you like cash back?  Much to my surprise, the customer stated, "No thanks."  When it came to my turn, I figured I'd use my debit card.  "Would you like cash back?" asked the cashier.   I responded, "Very generous of the supermarket.  I would like a thousand pounds, please."  "Oh no, sir!", she giggled, "It comes out of your bank account."  

One time in the supermarket, the lady cashier said to me, "We've run out of grocery bags.  Do you have a car with you?"  To which I replied, "Yes I do.  However, I don't think it will fit through the supermarket doors."