Oh, I Give Up...

After weeks, even months, of resisting, I've finally done it.

The final straw was when my wife asked me to.

So, I've done it.

Yes, I've joined facebook.

Well, there goes all my free time...

Car Trouble

You know, really, in life we're not self-reliant at all. We like to think that we rely on ourselves to get through situations, but it's a lie. You know who we really rely on?

Things. Stuff.

It's true. Our computers. Our telephones. And, yes boys and girls, our cars.

Picture the scene last weekend. My wife is out at a hen day, and is giving a couple of friends a lift when the car suddenly, inexplicably cuts out. And then, the thing that all motorists dread more than anything else in the world.

A light on the dashboard you don't recognise.

It usually looks like something that might strike horror into your heart. A giant spanner, or an artistic depiction of an exploding car. Either way, with the car playing up and a funny looking light on, everyone does the same thing. Pull over. Bail out.

And so, Gillian sits on the side of the road with two friends and awaits the lovely AA man. Who arrives and can find nothing wrong.

So a few days, and about £400 later, I wish I was more self-reliant.

Fancy a walk?

Why Does TV Have To Be So Good?

I have a problem. Even, an addiction, if you will.

My wife is hearing this. I can hear her agreement from here.

There is just so much good TV on at the moment. My schedule runs thus.

Tues: The F Word. Bad language, but culinary genius.
Weds: The Apprentice, obviously (followed by the obligatory spin-off on BBC2)
Thurs: Now, here we have a problem. The excellent House clashes with the also marvellous Hustle. So it's the former for me, while taping the latter.
Fri: My day off. Gillian watches Ugly Betty. I read something
Sat: Doctor Who, clearly
Sun: Doctor Who repeat on BBC3 (with commentary)
Mon: Usually watch Hustle taped from previous Thursday.

And then we go round again.

Damn you, television. I want my life back!

Help Me. I'm Scared...

Today is a day that could easily spell the end of my summer - even before it's begun.

Big Brother kicks off this evening, and about this time every year I mumble something about how I'm not going to get sucked in. I'm not going to watch it. I'm not going to waste weeks and weeks of my summer watching the very cesspool of human existence playing up to cameras and being embarassing.

At least, that's what I say every year. For about three days. And then I watch out of curiousness. And that's it. Is it the autumn already?

I feel like I have a fighting chance of not getting sucked into the launch show tonight, by virtue of the fact that it clashes with that wondrous piece of reality television, The Apprentice, and I'm fairly confident, even at this stage, that I'll be watching Sir Alan rather than Davina. But that won't help me tomorrow.

I don't even really enjoy watching Big Brother. The housemates are usually pretty repulsive, and I can't say I even look forward to it being on. But once I'm sucked in - I can't help it. I'm like a druggie dying for his next hit. When he gets it, he doesn't really enjoy it, but all he feels is relief that he's no longer craving.

Help me. Please.

My New Life

Windy. Rainy. Cold. Must be Bank Holiday Monday.

Indeed it is, my friend. And this has been my only chance to check with you in any detail all week. Literally.

I have a horrible feeling that this is how it's going to be from now on. My new job started this week, and I knew it would be busy. But I don't think I realise quite how head-explodingly busy it was going to be.

The problem is not the new show (weekdays, 1500-1800, www.premier.org.uk), but rather the fact that I am also second-in-command. The reality of this means that I spend all my mornings in one of the following ways...

a) Endless, back-to-back soul destroying meetings.
b) One long, soul destroying meeting.
c) Running around, tearing my hair out, attempting to sort out a problem that has arisen.

That lasts about 3 hours, after which I have no real time for lunch, and have to dive head-long into preparing for the show. Then we do the show. Then we record a trail for the next show. Then I go home. Sleep. And do it again.

So, I apologise my friends, for not being your ever-present companion. But I will do what I can to keep you posted, so please keep popping back.

And if you have a moment to send me lunch, I'd be very grateful

Hideously Busy

Too Busy to talk....

What the...?

Today I discovered something rather interesting. Interesting, but pointless.

Whilst looking for something else, I came upon something that I had been given a long time ago. It had been buried amongst a myriad of stuff on my desk and forgotten about. I recall being mildly diverted by it at the time, but dismissing it pretty quickly.

I am referring to a bizarre substance known as Rescue Remedy. In fact, now I think of it, I believe that I may have heard some radio commercials for it. Something about someone getting stressed in a supermarket, if memory serves. The idea of it is that it calms you down when things are getting on top of you. All it does is produce a taste in your mouth that is roughly akin to what I imagine it would be like to like the inside of a tramps mouth.

Here's what it says on the box:

Bach Rescue Remedy Spray provides support at times of emotional demand such as before a driving test or interview, exam or flight, or when you simply need a little help.

Essentially, you spray it on your tongue in times of stress and it helps you feel better. It tastes very vaguely alcoholic, not terribly nice, and really just encourages you to throw the box angrily to the ground, whilst shouting "I paid how much for this useful piece of junk!". Not very relaxing really.

I've not idea why I have it, and I can't remember who gave it to me. It's been years since I had a driving test or interview. I haven't done any exams since my A Levels, and I've not even been on a plane for a couple of years. That means someone obviously thought I "needed a little help". Fine. If you think I need help, do my washing, don't give me watered down alcohol in a small spray.

So, my advice to you would be to steer fairly clear of it all. If you're stressed, kick something (note - not someone). Preferably the spray, out of the window.