Fat Bloke on a Bike

Thursday this week I hit 60.  Really?  Already?  Here I am, a man fully aware of his mortality, not yet quite fretting about it but quickly sliding down an ultra slippy greasy pole of a thing / on a hyper-fast downhill bike race towards some unwanted finishing line.  Jeez!  Where the feck have the brakes gone? There must be some benefits of getting to this age?  If I was a big girl in the 1940's then I'd have reached state pension age and probably lived just a few years more.  Life was grim back then.   Interestingly if I were living in London today I'd qualify for a bus and tube pass.  Not up north though.  I thought everyone got one at 60 but no, somewhere along the line it changed to state pension age 'cept for the lucky buggers in the big smoke, the Welsh and the Scottish.  However, that is NOT enough of an incentive to move home.  However, I will qualify for free eye checks and free prescriptions.  But I already have ...

She's beaten me to it.  Damn.  My thoughts were clear the other day and I knew what this post would be about but FECK me!  How fast?  I can't even get the ink onto the screen and for it to have dried before this happens.  Nonetheless I'm gonna write about it as though it hasn't - quite yet.  I don't want you to say you can't publish this codswallop Wayne after the fact and pretend that you had predicted this.  Yes I can.  And I did.  So I will.. But not only me I guess.  Anyone, absolutely anyone with an inkling of nous saw this coming.  A crystal ball was not needed in this respect.  It was as plain as the nose on the front of our faces wasn't it? First of all I saw Kami-Kwasi hitting the ocean at high speed all aflame well short of his target.  I'm struck with awe and all agog watching the financial markets ejecting high speed monetary projectiles with all guns blazing and the Bank of England's governor supplying all the...

I no longer watch broadcast television programmes.  That is, none of them from the start to the end.  The quantity of poor quality amazes me.  So I channel hop.  A lot.  I spend more time inspecting the electronic programme guide than I do watching any TV show.  It's all crap isn't it?  Programmes about improving homes, improving gardens, about antiques - buying stuff for £20 and selling it for less?  All of them finding fun in it?  Brain numbing material innit?   It’s like everyone is being sedated via their eyeballs.  As though someone somewhere is in overall control of the people, sat in some Orwellian dungeon in front of a huge social mixing panel turning the volume knob down [and keeping it turned down] on our society.  With people going comatose whenever they sit and watch TV.  Interspersed with loads of adverts, mostly about death - you know - how to avoid it and what to do before you get there.  So that’s buyi...