Bucket List

1.  Visit The Marquesas Islands - After reading the Kon-Tiki expedition when I was 12, I became obsessed with the Pacific Ocean. I've since gone on to read quite a few accounts of sailing oceans. My favourite being "The epic voyage of the seven little sisters" by William Willis; incidental that; 7HTAS, which is my Twitter name, is the call sign of Willis' raft. I think it's what the Peruvian navy named the raft.  There's a company that do a tour of the islands on a freighter; but the costs are quite high; given that I'd need to fly to to L.A, and then to Papeete. I worked it out, and it was about 5 grand in total. I'd rather sail there my self...which brings me on to #2

2. Learn how to sail. Another long term ambition of mine; thwarted by chiefly, financial constraints. My plan is to buy myself a little yacht, and learn the ropes. I'm harbouring thoughts of saving up, and buying myself a live-a-board eventually. I've seen the life of live-a-boards, and although it isn't ideal, it'd be perfect for me. I'm assuming I'm going to be in the merchant navy next September, in which case, I will be be away for some time, and when I do return; I can cruise. I'm in love with the idea of being on remote islands. I want to visit Ascension, as many as the British Overseas Territories as I can, Easter Island, Pitcairn, The Antipodes, The Hawaiian Islands and Christmas Island , I'd like to visit Vanuatu; and tell them I'm John Frum - All these places could be individual numbers in my bucket list. I used look at these little slithers of land dotted on vast oceans on an inflatable globe at my Nan and Granddads. I forgot, I'd love to go to the Caymans Islands, and British Virgin Islands. I guess retirement is pretty much taken care of.

3.Visit Devil's Island -in Suriname- A former penal colony, the setting for another of one of my favourite books "Damned and Damned Again - Which surprise-surprise is by William Willis.

4.  Cycle up Mont Ventoux- Watching the Pantani V Armstrong match up in  the 2000 tour de france was possibly the greatest sporting moment I've witnessed. I'd love to ride up it myself, ans see the Tom Simpson memorial; for those not in the know about Cycling, he's a brit, who died whilst competing in the Tour in the 60's.

5. Visit Oslo- Three reasons. #1 to visit the Kon Tiki Museum.   #2 To visit Vemork - A hydro electric damn/museum (The Heroes of Telemark) and #3 Visit the Hardangervidda - All Kon-tiki related - The last two are associated with Knut Haugland - A true hero. His Wikipedia page does him no justice at all. While I think Ray Mears is a walking talking testicle; his book, "The Real Heroes of Telemark" gives a real enthralling insight into Operation Gunnerside

6. Visit Vietnam; I've always been curious about the place from various war films, but what really got me interested in going was reading Tim Severin's China Voyage. I'd also like to visit China, DPRK, and Hong Kong, while I am there.

7.- I'd love a horse. I think, when I'm up and running in the Merch; I may well get shares in a racehorse; It'd have to be a Chaser; and Charlie Poste would have to ride it; He's my favourite Jockey; I once backed him at Aintree at 100/1 on a horse called dance island; and he only went and finished second! One of his rides I'll always remember was when he managed to get a horse called heathcliffe to finish third; the horse was reluctant to settle, and he pretty much had to push the horse the entire 3 miles. I'd one day like to have enough space to be able to keep one myself; although, I am planning on living on a yacht; as soon as possible.

8. San Francisco; go to Gilman Street and take in some punk rock; and ride the tram. I've always wanted to go, after seeing Herbie rides again. Strange little houses on hills. Quirky. I like it. 


9. On the subject of Beetles, I've always wanted a 1969 VW Beetle. This exact one - with the soft top; and the racing shit on. There's an attempt at one of these round by my mums. It's not the right shade of white, it's not the correct year, and they've basically bought it; and not looked after it - all the shiny metal bits have been allowed to rust. A shame really. Although these day's, I'm a little 'anti vehicle'.

That's about it really. I mean there's a few peripheral ideas that I have, some unrealistic, some pretty achievable.  I'd like to one day live in Spain, I guess #2 can sort of accommodate that. I'd love sit down, and write a song with Neil Finn. I'd love to see Aurora borealis with my own eyes. I'd love to drive or cycle across Europe, and America. Pedalling across an ocean is something I constantly think of.  I want to see more of eastern europe as well.

Mind is blank. No title for you.....

I think maybe 5% of creativity is actually creative…pioneering….if you will. It starts when we are nippers. Monkey see, monkey do.  Only in later life, It’s monkey see, monkey change a little bit, monkey take credit for and get sucked off. I’m basically going to get high marks in both English subjects because over the past ten years, I have spent a lot of time waffling on about shit. They should combine Lit’ and Lan’ and just make it a vocational certificate in talking shit.  One moment that I keep revisiting is when I was in University: I was sat there in a pub; that on face value, you’d think was a working class, masculine melting pot. From the outside, it was a typical pub, on the inside, everything about it was the epitome of pubness. It was however, populated with all sorts of ‘hippy/pseudo intellectual/work a day for world peace/ smoke weed and do it tomorrow/analytical boffin’ types. It’s the latter that are relevant here. Weeks prior to sitting there thinking “Oh fuck off you haven’t got a clue” - I was sat in the crane bar, in Galway. I was pissed, and I was playing guitar. I was welcome to join in on the songs and reels, and everyone there was having a riot; it was boss- flash forward to my flash back, in the pub again- these English “musicians” are sitting there with their legs crossed, and their sheet music in tow, and their expensive guitars, and bags of knowledge; telling me I can’t stamp my fucking feet to join in. These people get so caught up, their heads up their own arses, that they lose sight of what music, especially Irish Folk music is all about. These same people who read things or see things created by bohemian minds, and make their suggestions,…telling us the hidden messages. You know what? Things sometimes are what they are; and they don’t need to be picked from the field and taken to the lab, dissected, and explored for meanings and such.

I keep finishing college for the day, and walking down into Liverpool city centre. I noticed today, that I am caught up in a loop of repetitive thought. I leave the college, and the first thing I do it take of my badge, because I’m sort of self conscious that I’m 26, and I’m at college, and I worry a bit,  what people will think. I turn the first corner, and I see an old boarding school on the left, brick, square, and depressing, with a sign saying “Pleasant Street School”- Not that pleasant. I then look over the road, and I see the modern day incarnation of pleasant street primary school; with it’s wacky architecture, making it look like a spaceship, in places, and it’s big security gates- it is a modern day monstrosity. I then start thinking about my time in primary school. I keep walking then I turn another corner, and there’s a multi story car park. I don’t really think much here, there isn’t anything visually stimulating to be honest. Then I turn onto the main road, which is a hill heading down towards Liverpool city centre. I can see the radio city tower; and I think about all those retards who listen to mainstream radio and live their lives in utter ignorance. Then I see my home in the hazy distance, across the Mersey, in the foreground; here, I start thinking about if I’m on the right path or not; will I see these GCSE’s through. Will I succeed? Do I really want to be a deck officer in Merchant navy?  Then I think “what else am I going to do” - Then I reach the favourite part of my walk home; walking past “Smokey Mo’s” - outside, there’s an old school chalk board sign saying “You’ve heard about us, now you’re here, you can see for yourself” - I'm thinking, "No I haven't.... and no I can't" The beer garden is full of track suited street urchins from Liverpool shakily smoking their rolled tobacco and sipping on  their pints of shit  bitter. Bear in mind it’s 1pm. Then everything suddenly becomes lucid. I might not be on the quickest path to living a content existence, but at least I have got my shit together enough to not be standing on the steps of smokey mo’s, smoking and drinking myself into the abyss. The ends now justify the means.

I then work my way through the metropolis that Liverpool is. There is an abundance of Big Issue salesmen; they’re really saturating the market. In the first week, I just said no to them, and felt a little guilty. Then I devised a slightly longer route, to avoid them completely, then I started answering them saying “Sorry, I’m illiterate” - but now I just wear head phones, and glide effortlessly through the mess.  When you’re not wearing headphones, people with headphones are little shits.  Can’t beat them, join them.

Here’s me on Wednesday just gone, at the top of the horseshoe pass, in Llangollen. A very enjoyable 85 mile ride, which I am going to replicate on Sunday to watch my friend Sean compete in the wrexham hill climb time trial.

It's a long way to paradise from here. . . .

That is all.

So, it’s September. Summer has gone just as quick as it came; which it has a tendency to do.  Next month, I will reach the unremarkable milestone that is 27, unless of course you’re a pop star; in which case I’d better be sure not to be taking any crack. I’m not a pop star though. I really can’t think of anything worse than being a pop star anyway. Music infuriates me.

 I’m going through the usual motions of drifting between optimism and pessimism. I’m not sure if it’s something to do with the seasons changing, but I really do tend to get a bit deflated at this time of year. But like I said; there is some optimism there, so it’s not totally forlorn. I’m a bit blue, but who isn’t?

I have finally started College properly. My first week has pretty much passed by without any major issues; aside from financial worries and a bit of customary fucking around from the dole, or the “Department of work” as I now like to call it. I’m sitting here chuckling to myself. Department of work. That’s great that. I’ve just started reading 1984 you see. I went to get a form stamped at the “department of work” and I was told I’d have to make an appointment, rather than them just stamp it for me there. I said “So . . .you want me to make an appointment….to come back tomorrow, so that one of your colleagues can stamp my college form for me?” - “Yes” I was abruptly informed by a woman with a face like a bulldog licking piss off a nettle leaf.  She told me to wait, and then some guy who reminded me of Penfold from Dangermouse shouted me over. I told him that I thought the fact I had to come back tomorrow was a little Orwellian. He seemed to agree, and he stamped it for me, and off I went to complete the enrolment process.  People who work in the job centre; not to generalize here….wait, yeah…to generalize; are a big fat trophy-like representation of why you should not settle on a job unless you really are happy in doing it  for a life time. The jobs I’ve done so far:  paper boy (lasted two days) pot dealer, parker pen salesman, production line operative, barman, pizza delivery boy, catering assistant, painting and decorating, smashing walls down and filling skips, demolition, concreting, roadie (for Vancouver band, The Tranzmitors), Music Promoter, Sound Engineer, Colletions & Recoveries agent, Credit Controller, Accounts Manager, Maritime Research Assistant, Data Entry Clerk,  Casino car park attendant. That’s all I can think of off the top of my head, some official roles there, and some not so official.  Out of all of them, the only one that I would definitely do for the rest of my days would be a Roadie. I was put up, and fed. It didn’t pay at all, but it was quality. Quality job, quality life. This goal of mine, to get me a job in the Merchant Navy has been in the pipeline for a good few years now. It’s definitely not some quixotic flash in the pan. I’m basically in year 4 of trying and not getting anywhere. I reckon I’m on the home straight now though. I’m in college and I’m retaking my G.C.S.E’s. English Literature, Language, Biology, Physics, and a maths for mongs course ( I didn’t pass to get on the GCSE, so I’ve gotta do this remedial course, but there’s a Maths GCSE in January that runs through to July) Over the coming months I will be applying to various shipping companies for next years intake. You know what I’m shit scared of though? Getting through all this rigmarole and either firstly not getting a position, or secondly, not liking it. I often go on about how society is fucked, and I suppose it is really, but where else can you get money, do free education courses, not have to work and get a free bus pass? I’m not beatifying the system, I’m just happy that it’s working for me at the moment. How narcissistic of you Daniel. I was waiting to get my bus pass, and heard the guy in front of me, he was an asylum seeker, and he was also getting his courses paid for, and he was filling in forms so he’d get paid £100 per week; now that’s a pretty decent amount of money to be getting for fuck all, considering I was born here, and I paid my taxes when I did work and I get £55.00 to live off. I could claim housing, and council tax I suppose, so that would sort of even it out. Am I angry, or unhappy about the aforementioned? No, I’m not. I have no idea what that lad has gone through to get to this country. I won’t begrudge him his free courses, and his 100 quid a week. I bet you were thinking, “Oh here we go, here’s another rant about asylum seekers and taxpayers money” Well you’re wrong. Fuck tax payers…. fucking morons. Fuck all those Sun newspaper reading dolts with their spoon fed ideals as well! Fucking thick racist bigoted ignorant sacks of shit,- wishing it was the morning, wishing it was the evening, wishing it was weekend, without seeing that they’re wishing their way to their graves!  I’m concerned with one thing. Getting this academic year out of the way. Getting 5 GCSES, hopefully C or above; I’m really going to give it my all this time. I want 2 A grades, and B’s if I’m honest. I’m appreciative of the chance that I’ve got here.  Going back to college is pretty much the same as when I last went to college. It’s the same as when I went to university. It’s the same as when I go to the pub, bookies, supermarket or even the park. I’m surrounded by people that I don’t seem to have any sort of connection with.  I seen some fat guy with a Mohawk in college; wearing a bright fluorescent “ALCATRAZ PSYCHO WARD” shirt with big stupid baggy pants. What a stupid bastard. Does he think he’s in a slipknot video? Fashion kills me. You have no idea. Seen loads of rejects with green hair and German military jackets hugging each other on bold street as well. You could bet they’ve got “revolutionary” T shirts.  Moshers love hugging each other don’t they? Oooh, old people. The word random. Cheese. Living with my Nan. Hurry up and conform you smelly little shits;  or, carry on with the whole charade, and march your kids around Tesco’s with Buffy the vampire slayer T shirts on. They’ll really love you for that.  Then there’s all these “super dry” t shirts. Why? Then you’ve got people who get their T shirts from supermarkets. You’re not bat man; your slogan about beer isn’t funny, you didn’t graduate from California state surf school college in 1979.Then there’s the Burtons/Topshop sect; T shirts and scarf- nice combination pricks. I seen some other prick, and I’m sorry if it was Robert Smith, drinking in the new Pseudo intellectual coffee place in bold street, but really it wasn’t actually him. It was some pathetic middle age bastard sitting there looking all pale, like he’d stuck a fork in a toaster or something. What’s going on?! If I had the money spare, I’d round up the tramps of Liverpool, and equip them all with plane glass box frame glasses, and give them a couple of quid each, on the proviso that they go in this coffee place, and cause a bit of a stink; both literally and actually. That would piss off all those fucking dandy bastards.

Summer of.....life of discontent.

Tenerife was frustrating on all levels. When we landed, I was visually impressed. I was harbouring thoughts that it was going to be decent.  I knew before I went that I wouldn’t have much in common with the people I was going with, but I think if I just stand back from the entire situation, I don’t really have much in common with anyone these days, never mind a bunch of student nurses, and a random south African called Stem.

 View from the roof of the hotel...the row of palm trees is where my wallet was taken...


 The 1^st night pretty much set up the sentiments for the rest of the holiday. There was a host of drunken arguments in the first few days, and I ended up getting my wallet pick pocketed during one of the arguments; the Spanish police were utterly useless.  The resort of Playa De Las Americas was pretty grim. Think Blackpool with Palm Trees. People constantly hassling you into restaurants, and sell you shit sunglasses.   

Day two seen a long term ambition achieved; Going out sailing.  Unlucky for me; I was sea sick! On day three, I was close to booking a flight home; but was put off by the price. The Holiday rep was pretty understanding about the whole thing; and she kindly offered to let me tag along with all the Thomas Cook reps. I felt totally isolated from the people I was travelling with, so I decided to take the kind strangers offer.  I managed to let my hair down, and ended up having a decent night, although the ensuing drama returning home sort of cancelled it all out.   At one point I ended up going for a hill walk, which turned into some sort of team building exercise.  I had a lot of fun, and I can certainly see how team building exercises are used. 

 Views from the hill walk...

 Me, on the top of the hotel....

Asked the fellah how much the canary was to eat.....

 Walking down a street in Vilaflor

 Praying that the bus would turn up when leaving vilaflor

 Vilaflor again . . .

 Really loved the quirky little buildings...and glad I got to see the real Tenerife....

This is a view from Arona; the final destination of my ascent on the bike..

Some hippys, that live in tent/caves year round. 

 Then came the bike hire day, which was the 5^thand definitely the best day of the trip. I’d intended to ride to Vilafor, but not long after beginning my ascent, it became apparent that the bike I’d hired wasn’t up to the task, and neither was my un-acclimatised body. See pics above, of Arona.

 Regardless of me leaving early, by 9.30, I was sweating profusely. When it’s economically viable, and I’ve lost a few more stone, I’m going to go on a full on cycling holiday, either in Tenerife, or possibly south france/northern spain. I don’t think there’s a better feeling than an hour and a half of sweating and pushing like hell and looking back down at all you’ve conquered.  Not one to be diverted from my goal, I made my descent back to the Hell hole that is “Playa De Las Americas” (Spicy Blackpool) after encountering the real Tenerife, a random chicken in the road, a nice restaurateur who could have ripped me off, but didn’t, some feral dogs, and a stricken lizard in a lolly ice wrapper that I saved; me, and Christine got on a bus (several), and headed up to Vilaflor which was truly an experience. You’re so high that you’re in the clouds. It’s madness that all this civilization exists so high up, and the buildings are rich in character! It was like a Ghost town when we arrived (Possibly during siesta) but we found a cafe next to the main square and tucked into some delicious Canarian cuisine. I’d tell you what it was like, but that would make me a big fat hypocrite, as I’m always sounding off about morons who watch cooking programmes and them being a total waste of time (the programmes and the watchers)  Anyway....Canarian potatoes. Yes! 

In hindsight, I did have a good time overall, despite what happened. I had serious blues for a week after!

 Two days after arriving back, I went out Birkenhead Victoria CC on a club run and I was not expecting it. I took water with me instead of my usual isotonic drinks, and was in for a serious eye opener as we rode to Llangollen. We ended up covering about 90 miles. I squashed a testicle going up the horseshoe pass, so I was off the bike for a good 5 minutes being sick at the side of the road. Stupid road pedals not clicking in! Then we made our way back from the Cafe at Llangollen; I was unprepared and unaware as to what was about to transpire; riding over “worlds end”. I’m not entirely sure of gradient, but I was dropped pretty much instantaneously and the ascent seemed to get steeper and steeper; then without warning, the mechanism that allows the wheel to turn after you pedal gave way; so I had to basically ride up this monster without any reprieve. It was nearly impossible to get the bike going again after stopping, something that was needed given the mechanical failures my bike had encountered. After getting over the top, my bike thankfully begun to work a little better, but I was shot to fuck. Lagging behind the rest of the bunch, I felt like such a letdown, after riding so well on my previous club run to Beeston; I was 3^rd up the hills then and well pleased with how I was riding.  I put it down to the Tenerife ride, and the bike being fucked. I bought my old bike back of my mate; as my new Bianchi had failed me, and was getting fixed.

 The next club run was even more of a disappointment. We went to Llandudno at a pretty fast pace; and I decided to ride up the Great Orme.  Essentially my confidence was writing cheques that my ability couldn’t cash. I was trying out a new supplement to stop me from burning out that had been recommended to me by the cycling guru within the club I’m in....all sorts of jazzy electrolytes in it!  Now, I usually burn out at 70 miles, but managed to keep it going for 85, coupled with me riding up a stupidly steep hill, and yet more mechanical short comings, I ended up out the back of the group again. I ended up telling them to carry on. I disappointed myself. I soldiered on, and caught sight of them again close to the finishing point; which was a slight redeemer.

I opted out of this weekend’s club run, because my gears were bust, and I was a bit reluctant to be the anchor again. I stupidly went out drinking!  I’d be here all day expressing how pissed off I am at myself, but I’m not going to bother. Today, I shaved 2 minutes of my shockingly bad ten mile time; and I had a nice solo ride out to Holt...60 Miles in the bag.

I have an assessment later this month at Liverpool Community College. It’s pretty much all or nothing here. I’ve spent the last 3 and a half years working towards a goal. Getting in the Merchant Navy. Trying to lose weight, get fit, and get the qualifications and all that jazz. I’ve washed up with the idea of going in the RN, and I’ve also washed up with the idea of going in the RFA; they’ve had their budget slashed, they’re not taking on, plus, I hate rejection, and I’m not ready for another NO. I’ve encountered rejection, I’ve suffered, I’ve laughed, I’ve cried, and I’ve changed. The plan now, is to finish this job next week, and all being well, ace my 5 GCSE’s. Come January, I’ll be getting interviews for HNC places for next September. Sponsored Deck position in the Merchant Navy...age 28, finally settling down to a “career”.  So by 30, I’ll be up and running. This is of course pending the outcome of my assessment. I’m not going to talk about a contingency plan, because it’s first and foremost negative to do so, and secondly, and seriocomically I don’t have a plan B. All the metaphorical eggs are in one basket here.


Assessment on the 24th August, pay day on the 26th. I'm debating riding to Hereford, which is 100 miles from mine and staying at a B&B, then heading down to Cornwall, just with a back pack with minimal essentials. I keep thinking of mechanical failures, and my lack of mechanical knowledge though; so I may just take the dog, the tent, the car, and go "where ever"   In any case, I am looking forward to some splendid isolation at the end of August. If I come back and find I don't have a place on the course.....fun and games beckon! 

Spanners and that....

Okay, In the past I've been a bit "elitist" towards those people who like songs just because they have appeared on TV programmes. "Overkill- Men at work" was on scrubs....and became popular....there's a few more that I can't off the top of my head think of.   Anyway, that's not important. As self certified "Bohemian"  I have to say that Stevie Nicks is power. This song is perfect, heartfelt, and the melodies just fit perfectly with the whole concept. This was on a new episode of south park called "You're getting old" - Really struck a nerve with me, and induced quite a considerable amount of reflection of myself.  Yet more output from Trey Parker and Matt Stone that are pretty much bang on. The "You have 0 Friends" episode, pretty much highlights how far social networking has come from the infancy days of the internet...remember geocities?  The episode about motorcyclists being "Fags" is fucking amazing. I know it's a gross generalization, but people who ride motor bikes are compensating for something in their sub-conscious mind that is amidst. For instance when a motorbike is stationary in traffic...."vroooom vrooom vrooom" - 'Look at me, hear the roar of my engine'. Wow. That makes up for your 4 inch dick.....Back to south park.  Pretty consistent with music content :

Styx - Sail away

Kansas - Carry on my wayward son

I need to check out some more Stevie Nicks.

I took Evelyn to her school today; she's starting school in September.   You just have to blink, and the years slip by. I can't get my head around it. She's bright as a button though; and Emma is doing an Excellent job of making her into the little lady she is. 

Approaching the arse end of yet another year in the sense that we're closer to the end than the beginning, and I'm planning my next steps to "get back on track"- how many years is it going to take me to "Get back on track" ? At the end of the day, It's my own personality traits that are the principle cause of my shortcomings, I want something, I either get it, or lose interest and want something else. I think it's safe to say that my desires to join the Merchant Navy isn't to be tarred with the same brush as all the other 'options' that I've pursued. It's definitely not a quixotic idea...well no, it's quixotic, but it's from the depths of my whole being. I want it. It's taken this long, what's another year.....well, a year, if I get on this block of GCSE's I've applied for. I spoke with the course head honcho today, and there's quite a bit of competition. I have to get my shit together sooner rather than later. The assessments are in August. That is providing I get an assessment. If I don't, then I'm pretty much snookered. Back on the dole.  I don't want to think of that. I'm a lot of things, and one of them is a realist. I'm confident that positive thinking will save the day on this one. I'm employed up until the end of august; if I don't get in Liverpool community college, I can always go local and do three GCSE's at college locally, and pay for the other 2; so as I write this, the wheel is turning and I'm pro-actively planning. There was a second earlier today, not long after I put the phone down from the college chap, where I was thinking of getting tanked up this weekend. Thankfully, it was a passing thought, that was soon quashed by my current charge towards "being a better person" - what ever that means? I'm looking after myself, and I'm making more of an effort with my nearest and dearest, because that's something I feel I've singularly failed to make the most of for as long as I can remember. I have turned a corner though. There was a time when I'd drink 4 times a week, eat all sorts of shit, and generally not give a flying rats arse about anything; myself included. I feel more human. I know we are here for a good time, not a long time, but I just think one more year of doing what I'm doing and I'll reach my goals. By next September, Starting up in the Merch, and 15 stone will do me nicely. Yes, it's a constant war, but, I will soldier on. 

Just started reading a book called "The stormy voyage of fathers day" by Hugo Vihlen. Given to me by Hugo's sailing 'rival' Tom Mcnally. In exchange for that, I borrowed to him two William Willis books; the two separate accounts of his Trans-pacific adventures. I was bigging William Willis up to Tom no end, and he said he was aware of him. I'm realizing now, after starting this book, that Tom is probably one of the closest things to William Willis currently alive on earth. I guess Willis' books might be a little tame for him. It'll be interesting to find out his thoughts. It was funny the first time I met Tom, he asked my what boat I've got, to which I replied . . 'I've never been on a boat, apart from the ferry'. So how can someone have such an ardent interest in obscure mad men who cross oceans....the dreamers...the mentalists? I'd like to think that some day it will be financially viable and conceivable for me to sail away. 

Whilst writing this Christine has put on the aforementioned (in my blog) 127 Hours;  I haven't really been paying attention to it though and I would ask that you read my previous post pertaining to this "matter"  There's so many things that are more interesting than a zany tit who got his arm stuck under a boulder. Jesus wept. Danny Boyle, you shit head. 

My arse has gone numb now, so I'll back off from being episodical-

Canary Islands (Oh how I love my archipelagos) in less than 3 weeks, and a cycling/B&B tour of the south west of England at the end of August. Been feeling increasingly isolated over the past month. :(

Felix_von_Luckner  - Of the German Navy. A gent of the highest order! It was his habit of successfully waging war without any casualties that made him a hero and a legend on both sides.  (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Werner_Hartenstein - another Hero of the kreigsmarine.

Peripheral Thinking

Okay, so my primary goal is to get a career at sea. I'm signed up to re-take 5 GCSE's, which will enable me to apply later this year, for a few sponsoring deck officer positions. ACE. Navigation, and all that jazz. Right up my street. There's a full time job going in work though, and I think I'm going to apply the "snooker" philosophy to my game plan by thinking of three steps ahead go for it; if I get it, I'll have a full time job, and I'll be able to pay to redo my GCSE's from home. I've also sent off my C.V to 12, yes 12 to 12 pubs, that I deem "quiet"