The Talking Feral Fridge.

This will be the last post I ever publish on this computer. A computer now so slow that I find myself trying to will the bloody thing to load up by spinning the wheel on my mouse.  A mouse as in a computer mouse, although both can be rather fond of wheels.  

Trying to get to your site and comment has become a frustrating, flustered futility.  

So, for no apparent reason whatsoever, I shall publish one of my coolest posts ever to end the usage of this computer.  

I'm sure you have observed that fridges do indeed "talk."  I mentioned the uniqueness of each fridge's "voice" in a previous post.  The above fridge is my old fridge.  The above, old fridge now resides at my son Tristan's new place.  The old fridge makes a sound like a squealing pig with a rumbly tummy.  That sound can now continue to delight my son.  

My new fridge, which I've been told is classified as a "domestic appliance" doesn't seem domestic at all.  I would consider it, if anything, that the screeching sounds are more reminiscent of a wild animal than a domestic appliance..  The noises emanating could, however, be considered the sound of a "gross domestic product."

My new feral frost-free fridge fluctuates flatulence factors forebodingly.  Yes, in other turds, in other words, it can sound like a gurgling fart.

It also has this uncanny knack of sounding like Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar in one of her whining moments.

I heard that whining noise the other day.  "Are you okay, Penny?"  I inquired.  Only to suddenly realise that Penny wasn't with me and I was talking to the talking feral fridge.

A Fridge Too Far

How very polar

Fridge on the River Kwai 

Um, nice try

A Fridge over Trouble Waters

It never falters

No surprise

The Fridge of Sighs.

Up My RAM!

Waiting for www.blogger.com...

Right, enough of this!  My computer is slower than a parked car.  Waiting for this and waiting for that. Waiting for everything to load up.  Waiting for the cash, um, cache.

I've officially given up with this computer.  My eight year old computer with "Windows X-Pire, Groan Edition."

I've done so much to keep this damned computer running.  I cleared the cash, sorry, I cleared the cache after each use.  I defrag my hard disk drives.  I run the disk clean up and I even have some sort of crap cleaner on here.  Hell, I even upped my RAM to quadruple the speed.  Although the RAM was more like a lamb.  This has nothing to do with me wearing rubber boots and messing about in a field in Wales at three in the morning.  Nothing made any difference.

When I moved into my new place, my priority was supposedly buying a new computer.  Then all the other priorities got in the way like having a new bed that the dog sometimes allows me to sleep on.  A new fridge, a television and loads of new furniture.  I kept thinking that my ageing computer was going to miraculously get better.

It takes me several hours to even try to comment on blogs.  I've reached the point that I dread switching this crazy computer on.

Thus, now my zillions of adoring fans will understand my sporadic nature over the last few months.

Computer defrag

Still a drag

Waiting for this

It's taking the piss

Waiting for that

Double drat 

Some blogs wont load

On the internet road

Google Plus

Is Google Fuss

Windows X-Pire

Was not my desire

A new computer

Something to suit ya

An all in one

A bit of fun

Maybe a lapdog

For my blog

Sorry, maybe a laptop

Will be my next stop

 A new computer for me

You will see

In a month or so

I'll give it a go

The New Year Is But An Infant.

2014 slipped away.  Now a notation in history.

The New Year is but an infant.  Wide-eyed, curious and full of renewed hope for a better world.

Fireworks on the river Thames, London, England. The New Year in with a bang, a boom, a blaze of resplendent glory

As the light faded on the first day of the New Year, I stared out my bedroom window.  Noted the last remaining rays of the setting sun casting shadows on St. Luke's church in Leek, Staffordshire. Time to think about that new adventure, perhaps just a dream.  A dream of 2015 being the year that those who are vulnerable would no longer be targeted by those in power.  A New Year.  A New Hope. A year in which compassion, sharing, caring for all, was not that elusive dream but a wonderful new reality.  A year when the world realised that we should rejoice in the diversity of an all different, all equal world.

A peaceful, hopeful, positive New Year to you and your loved ones. 

The Wee Folks Christmas Wish, 2014.

And thus, Fidelina, the beautiful fairy princess, Geoffrey the garden gnome, and their wee son, Einahalk, rejoiced in the warm, reassuring glow of the twinkling Christmas lights.

The wee folks, such wondrous, magical creatures, had come in from the cold and gathered in the comfort of the living room.  All different, all equal, celebrating the magic of a special time.

Such diversity.  Their's is a world where all is possible, no judgement passed.

See the joy, the sheer delight on the faces of the wee folks.  They know that life should be a celebration of all that's good.

And the celebration continued.  They danced, they sang to sweet tunes of love, of hope, of understanding.

In the above photograph is Venetia, the sister of Fidelina, bridesmaid from, The Wee Folks Wedding. The enchanting wedding of Fidelina, the beautiful fairy princess and Geoffrey, the garden gnome.  Standing beside her is the 'best gnome', Teagan. There was a hint of romance between the two of them at the magic-filled wedding on the first day of summer, 2010. Note the gnome in the background, Yrag, who is the best friend of Teagan.

And here is a happy little monkey.  His great long arms, wrapped over a couple of friendly garden gnomes. Nice tinsel effect.  Happy little monkey.

A past magical moment in time.  The wee folks celebrated each and every unique snowdrop that cast its glistening wonder on the enchanted garden where they once doth lived. Their message to us is simple, yet profound.  For the wee folks live in their wee world, where stigma, labels and the passing of judgement, are bizarre and baffling concepts.  May we learn from them.  Let's celebrate and rejoice in the diversity of mankind.  And just like in their world, we can truly be, all different, all equal.

The wee folks. They are adapting to their new life in a new adventure in a new home.  Dreams can come true.  Dare to believe in yourself.  Fidelina, Geoffrey and their beautiful little boy, Einahalk, wish you a peaceful, happy and so very positive Christmas.

And the wee folks gazed up at the moon
Cried for our world so out of tune
Worries in their loving hearts
Seeking signs of our fresh starts
Corruption
 Disruption
Compassion
The reaction.

A Pawed Poolitcal Announcement.

Hi there, yes it's me, Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar!  While my human brother, Tristan and my human dad, Gary, are still going through major upheavals in their lives, I told Gary that I would take over his blog, yet again.

These have been challenging times for me also.  I've had to adjust to living in two different homes.  Although it's been unsettling, I'm now familiar with the routine of spending half the week with Tristan and the other half with Gary.  The transition and adapting has been quite the hectic adventure for the three of us.

So while Gary contemplates actually writing another blog pawst, I shall tell you with what I've been up to at Gary's place.

Gary purchased a brand new, luxury bed.  The brand new, luxury bed, is now mine.  Last week, I was feeling poorly.  I proceeded to poo on the brand new, luxury bed.  Such was my poor tummy that my poo seeped through to the mattress.  This left a a stain that Gary feverishly removed.

However, there's more.  Having a rumbly tummy, I went on a three-day pooping extravaganza.  This meant that Gary was rushing around after me with a wet sponge and cleaning products.  Thankfully, the cleaning products did a good job of removing the offending stains on his brand new, luxury crapets, um, carpets.

Each time Gary rushed me out of his apartment and carried me down the three flights of steps, once outside, I couldn't go.  He'd bring me back in.  Back in time for me to continue my pooping extravaganza.

In one last pooping glory, I got up beside Gary on MY brand new, luxury bed he'd cleaned.  He awoke to a pungent aroma, a poopy bed and a brown trickle down his top.  Never seen the old guy jump out of a bed so quickly!

I'm pleased to report that I'm now back to normal.  My eating is just fine and the runs have run away.  Gary and Tristan are taking me to the vets as a precautionary measure now scheduled for the upcoming Monday.

Here's a bit of a Christmas theme in Gary's ongoing creation within his new home.  That's not a real fireplace, but what the heck, it gives a cosy ambience.  The carpets have now been fully cleaned.

So this was sort of a "Pawed Poolitical Announcement."  I know that David Cameron is into Poolitics and I'm sure he loves my comments on his Twitter feed.

*Okay, Gary, I'm all pooped out from doing this pawsting.  Maybe you might get the hint and actually write your own blog pawst!  Arf!*

A Magical Metamorphosis.

The past four months have been four months of upheaval, turmoil, adventure and discovery.  I'm in my new home.  My son is in his new home.  Penny, a dog of such sensitive perception, shares both homes.

A new life has begun for my son, for Penny the lovable Jack Russell and myself.  I, a man coping and challenging every aspect of my low esteem caused by past environmental trauma.

Yes, the past four months brought on a deeply intense bout of depression.  The "inner critic" screamed, tormented me to the point I could barely sleep, barely eat.  I was sinking fast.  How was I going to cope? Would my son cope with his new responsibilities?   Would Penny be able to adjust?   Questions, concerns, whirled and whirled in my frazzled mind.  Something had to change.  It was time to battle against the inner critic.  I cannot give my depression permission to sabotage my right to a peaceful, hopeful life.

I learn from that past and embrace the now.  A new sense of excitement, of realistic, positive anticipation that all will be just fine. The inner critic has been replaced by the loving return of my "inner child."  An inquisitive child that sees the good in perceived bad moments.

The powerful revelations that lay within the four months of perplexity quashed the incessant chatter of the inner critic.  My upbeat attitude is returning with a sense of defiant triumph.

When my son lived with me, I hardly saw him.  Just a fleeting glimpse down the hallway as he headed to his bedroom.   I'd get the occasional grunt of acknowledgement from my son.  On a good day I'd get two grunts.  My son, Tristan, an angry, frustrated young man.  A young man craving independence and feeling trapped.  An angry, frustrated young man who would vent his seething rage directly at me.

That was then.  This is now.  My son is coping remarkably well as he sets out on his new life.  Of course, he gets incensed over the bureaucratic incompetence that transforms what should be simple situations into a surreal complexity.  I'm sure you know what I mean.

Tristan has started listening to my advice.  I like to think he listens to all my advice, okay, most of my advice, some of my advice, just a tiny bit of my advice.  Even a minuscule fraction of taking on board my advice is a great deal more than he used to pay heed to.  Now that he is paying his own way, you bet he listens to me in regards to saving money, to paying the correct amount on his taxes.

The anger my son has felt has dissipated.  The communication between the two of us has gone through a magical metamorphosis.

In fact, I'm seeing more of my son now than when we used to live together.  The common denominator is communication, cooperation, love.  And who is behind this new understanding of love I share with my son? Take a bow wow, Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar!   Penny knew that she needed to see both of us together, all three of us together, as much as possible.  Penny, loving Penny, has taught my son and I valuable lessons.  Lessons that the purity of a dog's unconditional, non-judgemental love, is the bond that grows, that glows with the symbolic beacon of hope  for the future.

A magical metamorphosis.

The Love Of Me Bonds My Humans.

*Pawesome!  My arrangement with my human brother and my human dad is working better than even I'd dare dream....*  Oh hello, there.  I was just thinking out loud.  Yes, it's me, Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar!  

You might realise that my human brother, Tristan, my human dad, Gary and I, are going through some major changes in our lives.  Changes that caused me confusion and anxiety.  We moved from the home that we all lived together in for thirteen years.  I ended up staying with Gary for three months until Tristan finally moved into his own place. 

When Tristan moved in and took me to live with him, I was spending long hours on my own while he was at work.  I didn't know this until he told me. What with being in yet another new environment and not being used to being alone, I started to cry. "Where is Tristan?  I'm really scared.  Where is dad?"

Tristan's neighbours expressed their concern about my crying.  With that, Tristan and Gary took immediate action.  We now have a compromise in place.  The routine is that I stay with Gary from Sunday evening until Thursday afternoon.  I'm now getting full attention from the both of them.  I'm so much calmer now.  I even roll around on the carpets, just like the good old days.

I understand that as part of Tristan's independence, he wanted me to stay with him for most of the time.  He now understands that I need the shared love of both him and dad.

Lessons of love have been pawfoundly embraced.  *Pawesome!  My arrangement with my human brother and my human dad is working better than even I'd dare dream....*  Yes, when I was thinking out loud it meant this.  Tristan and Gary have bonded in a mutual determination that tells them their love for me is paramount.  Their love for each other has grown because of such mutual determination.  Such a magical, loving spirit of cooperation, of communication.  I want to cry but with tears of doggy joy.

I sleep in peace.  I get to see both my human brother and my human dad on a regular basis.  

This week I'm staying with Tristan.  He was so worried about my life-changing experiences of late that he has taken the week off work.  

Yes, there he is at twelve years old holding me as a two month old puppy.  Fourteen years on, the love I share with him, with my human dad, grows ever stronger.