Well, this is a most strange posting indeed. After watching a DVD with the Irish fella from the BBC show, Mock The Week, I had well, let’s set the complete scene first;

In summation, life is at the height of excitement. Forget those people in foreign countries, forget those fighting for our freedom, and forget those people out in all the bars trying to pull those student ladies too young for them, with a bizarre staring technique which freaks them out so much, that they go home alone to “sort themselves out.” No, home is where it’s at with a cup of tea and a DVD.

Imagine the excitement growing to the point of being unbearable when the phone rang, this time not to ask if I’m happy with my dry cleaning or to send money to a nice Nigerian man. It was a nice drunk couple, who starting laughing heavily after proclaiming that their horses loved me, the dog loved me and apparently the wife loved me as well.

After establishing the opportunity for either an affair or a recreation of the porn version of Animal Farm, it went onto a most serious matter that I shouldn’t buy a horse despite the fact they had left a comment saying I should buy a horse.

Of course, in these trying times, with me living in the capital city and working in IT, the subject of horse ownership frequently comes up. Therefore I have ignored the advice and have become the owner of this fine filly;

All I need is one of those student charity workers to wear it along with a saddle and I’ll be all set. And thus ends an exciting tale of yore on a Saturday night.

Makes you wonder if my writing again is a good thing…

Since the 14th of February, Ooh Sometimes once again has resembled the Arctic Tundra in terms of content; empty, void of life and full of dancing penguins. But that hopefully will soon begin as the impossible has been realised. No, not that. Nor that.

But remember that nice post all that time ago (Self contained luxury madness) complaining about countless websites offering large studios for £345345 per minute only to have something which resembled a car park with boxes? I have now for the moment secured one of those overpriced pieces of real estate and now am at the mercy of the various telephone / broadband providers, awaiting the return of the internet at home.

I’ve only been in the room/cupboard/tin foil masquerading as a studio flat for about a day or so now, and so far, it feels very very strange. No-one else in the room, just me. No one fighting over the microwave (because there isn’t one), no forced small talk, no re-enactments of that dodgy scene from Pulp fiction with the gimp, it’s all very different.

And last night, I honestly had no idea of what to do with myself (Stop it at the back) as this is the first time I have been a free spirit in quite some time. I don’t mean in relationship things, far from it, I mean in the very real sense that this is literally the first place that is all mine to with as I see fit. Quite odd really.

And now I feel comfortable too, even beginning slowly to start again slowly a fair number of things I used to, like this old blogging thing for instance, wandering round town, laughing at people, crying on the inside, all the wonderful things that I did before. Maybe things are on the up now?

Nah, let’s be fair, it’s going to still be one post every 6 months….

Well campers, may as well post a ever so brief and fleeting update about the naughty of late.

I’m currently back up in Sunny Shropshire, seeing people young, old and techincally dead. It’s another time of leaving the hustle and bustle of London behind for a short while, and this all came at the end of a pretty damned good week as it all goes.

Even with what happened on Thursday which will stay with myself and possibly some poor people who really didn’t want to see what I had been doing.

What am I talking about you may be asking? Well that will wait until I get some time to upload the pictures and lay out some funky beats to get down with.

Now today is Valet Parking Day where men and women pretend to care about themselves and buy new cushions or something. I don’t know, I went off on one last year about the whole thing and with the credit crunch crunching away at my underpants, the whole affair seems to make even less sense this time around. Surely people will realise that all these extra days like pretend we care day, Mothers day, Doctors day and all the other days are a load of rubbish and forget about them?

Judging from the stalls down south I had seen before boarding a train, not really.

Right, I’ve rambled enough, off to get to more done, sleep and then relax by a pool filled with exotic ladies.

I had to share this with all you good people out there, It’s another crafted song from Adam (that fella from Adam and Joe) which goes on about that film with Tom Cruise’s ex and the big man from X-Men. By all accounts the song is far better than the film…

Failing that, take me to Alton Towers, I feel like weeing my pants on that air ride all over again. It’s a sunny day in London town after the week that had all the weather we could ever want and more, and all I want to do is stay in, play some games and do some ironing.

Rock and Roll indeed.

I have a bearded hobo face, underpants which, well, less said the better and my stomach is growing to the point I can be a stunt double for the Marshmellow man from Ghostbusters. I even am starting to smell like elderberries. Sounds like a classic case of “being slightly full of himself to pretend he’s down in the dumps”, doesn’t it?

I suppose that in the grand scheme of things I have nothing to cry over, at the moment I still have a roof (with dodgy paintwork) over my head, a job which does indeed challenge and a lady hanging around who cares more than really she should, it appears. Yet that doesn’t stop me thinking that I need to run away. I just want to hide from various people for a good while, get my thoughts and self back together like good old Humpty (well I’m not made of egg so we have that saving grace). Then perhaps the Lord of Leisure will be back in business.

The only thing is; no idea on the best way to achieve all this without pissing someone off. What avenues I have explored already seems to upset someone, and trying to avoid things like annoying people is close to impossible seeing as people are everywhere. I was told by someone recently: “People are People.”

This was in response to the fact that when someone is onto a good thing and doing well, others seek to destroy that or you unless you give them a fair amount to leave you alone, basically they want to be better than you through your efforts. Also do something they don’t like and well….

In London I see this everywhere.

People are only interested in you when you can provide them with something or do something for them. If you can’t, then bye bye. You can argue that is the case everywhere in the world because that is human nature. But then again I’ve not seen such a high concentration of this behaviour anywhere else before and I can only base things upon what I see.

And this sort of brings me back to what this rant started all about. How can I do anything without annoying anyone else? The answer perhaps is not to care about what other people think and go it alone all the way with your endeavours. But what happens when you would be annoying people you actually like?

F**k it dude, let’s go bowling.

Hello campers, as everyone else was busy posting stuff about the snow that graced its presence over blighty, I figured I’d do the same. After all everything else is pretty much the same as the last time I posted on here quite some time ago. The living situation remains stagnant, the lack of freedom apparent, the computer weekly blog remains being updated with bits and Guitar Hero 3 is being re-released on PC with GH:Aerosmith stuff in the same box.

Strange but despite the issues I had with GH3 some time ago under Xp, I’m still a fan and I may end up getting it anyway once more. Just to fail at Welcome to the Jungle again at child settings.

One day, there will be more here which funny and interesting. Then again that will be the same day I magically turn into Morgan Freeman.