The other morning, I awoke to a disturbed wife. The house was in darkness. Apparently, when turning on the bathroom light, there was a big flash, followed by all of the remaining lights in the house going out. I had expereinced this problem in my old flat, so knew how to fix it. The light circuit had tripped, and just needed turning back on. I normally keep a torch by the bedside for these matters. Could I find it when I really needed it? Could I hell. Luckily, my mobile phone has a torch app. Unfortunetely, it drinks battery juice like Phil Mitchell drinks vodka. By using the phone as a torch, I might not have enough power left to call 999, should I fail to restore the lights to my house. Thankfully, I managed to haul myself out of bed, made it downstairs, got the lights working and my phone didn’t die. The bathroom light was still out, which presented an even greter problem…
I asked my DIY Man – AKA “Dad” – to come and change the light bulb. He is excellent at this kind of thing and I wouldn’t have been able to do this job. Being a shortarse 5 foot 5 and having as much balance as a one-legged horse, I didn’t really want to risk changing it myself with a stepladder, especially as the bulb is under a fragile glass dome, which would no doubt shatter into a million sharp pieces if I went anywhere near it, leading to me cutting myself, dying from blood loss and receiving a fine from the landlord for breaking his property.
My Dad managed to retrieve the bulb from behind the great glass ceiling dome. Except it wasn’t a bulb. It was a tiny tube. You know the kind you get in an office? It was like that but 100 times smaller. Where on earth could I buy one of these? One things for sure, I couldn’t buy one from my Tesco Local. I went to the shop that sells everything (apart from drugs and livestock)… Amazon.
After much thinking, I bought what I believed to be the correct bulbs, tubes, whatever… The next day, Claire rang me at work to say that they had been delivered, but they were too small! Yes, it was a tiny, tiny light tube. 1,000 times smaller than one you would find in an office! This was getting serious, there was only so long I could shower by candle light (OK, I used the landing light, with the bathroom door open). My Dad, the best handyman in the world, managed to find the required bulb in Screwfix and even fitted it for us. Everything is now working, there is now no longer a need for candles, but we do have a multipack of tiny light tubes that we’ll never need.
Whoever picked the photos for this year’s Leeds United calendar needs to be sacked. Why put a Huddersfield Town player right in the centre of February. This photo was taken last year, when Leeds got beat by Huddersfield in the home game. To rub salt into the wounds, we lost to them away yesterday, and because of this calendar, I am not allowed to forget it!
I have been stalking celebrities. Not in a seedy, perverse kind of way. I have not camped outside Cheryl Cole’s house with a pair of binoculars. Instead, I have been contacting famous people by post and email.
Last night, I wrote a very long letter to Sir David Attenborough – by far my favourite famous person of all time. The man is a legend and someone whose work I have followed, and been inspired by, since I was a little boy. Apparently Sir David replies to fan mail, so I am anticipating something in the mail from the man himself over the next few weeks.
Another minor celeb (and I do mean minor – you won’t even find him on Celebrity Big Brother) is Julian Norton. Heard of him? I thought not. He is one of two vets on the Channel 5 TV series, The Yorkshire Vet. Despite being on C5, the series is really, really good – like a real life All Creatures Great and Small. How would be best to contact Mr Norton? I emailed the veterinary surgery via their website. Within an hour, Julian replied, thanking me for my email and promising to send me something signed. How nice of him!
My last ‘stalk’ of the day may prove a little more difficult. I would like the autograph of the Leeds United manager, Garry Monk, and my favourite player, Pontus Jansson. I have emailed the Supporters Liaison address, which I found on the Leeds United website. I have also tweeted the new owner, Andrea Radrizzani, asking him to follow me, so I can send him a direct message, or provide me with an email address, in which I can send my request for a siggy from Monk and Jansson. I won’t hold my breath on a response.
I did think about asking the Queen for a letter, but think the only way I’ll get anything from her is on my 100th birthday. Assuming I live that long, she will be 157 years old. Still more likely than Leeds United sending me anything.
… guess who forgot to pay their hosting fees? They have now been paid, but as a result, my website was down for the last two days. Did you miss anything? Unless you wanted to read stuff from the past 13 years, no. I haven’t blogged since New Year’s Day. Until now…
Since my injury, I am still using the crutch during my recovery. I have been attending Bath City home games without any difficulty, although have avoided travelling on the coach since September. Claire still goes to many of the away games. Today, Bath City were playing Oxford City. However, it was absolutely freezing everywhere. As sure as eggs are eggs, the game would be off. Did Oxford mention anything on their website or Twitter account? Did they hell. This meant Claire had to defrost her car, drive to her parents, pick them up, drive to Twerton Park, wait in the cold for the inevitable announcement that the game was off. It was. My wifey returned to me, under an hour after she left. Looking a tad pissed off and very cold indeed.
Remember when I got Grand Theft Auto 5? It was way back in 2013. I must have blogged about it. Anyway, I didn’t finish it, despite absolutely loving the series. The fact the PlayStation 3 was dying, resulting in the fan sounding like a jet engine kind of put me off playing the game. Over three years later, I am actually pleased that the PS3 did snuff it. I am finally an owner of a lush looking PlayStation 4, and guess what… GTA5 is on that too – and it looks even better than the PS3 version! I am therefore enjoying driving about Los Santos, stealing cars and killing people. It sounds atrocious, but it is the most fun since I inflicted life threatening, third degree burns on Dr Robotnik, on Sonic The Hedgehog.
Leeds are still doing worryingly well. Every time I think they’re going to slip up, they end up winning. The Mighty Whites are on Sky tonight (we’re always on Sky these days), against Barnsley. Kick off is in 11 minutes, so I had better wrap up this blog, find a few images to stick to it and upload the whole lot to WordPress.
Happy New Year to all my readers. How did you spend your evening last night? Unless you are Dot Cotton, I can guarantee that it was more rock and roll than mine. We went to bed at our usual time of around half ten. Thinking about it, Dot’s evening was probably more exciting than ours – at least she was able to pop some drugs, albeit nicotine. We couldn’t even score any Ovaltine.
There were two reasons for our unfestive evening. Firstly, Claire had worked a long day at work, so was understandably shattered. Secondly, we had nothing to do. No guests. No party games. There wasn’t even anything good on the telly.
After our early night, I woke up shortly before midnight. I’d normally go straight back to sleep, but I felt I should see in the New Year, even if it was lying on a bed, in a dark room, next to a heavily sleeping wife.
Right on the stroke of midnight, the fireworks started. Lots of them. It sounded like a warzone. I am sure Ross Kemp was hiding behind a wheelie bin, somewhere in Twerton, with a film crew, reporting on all the dangerous explosions.
Why do people buy fireworks anyway? They’re very expensive and aren’t really that good. You are literally burning your money. With so many suckers putting on their own displays in their back garden, why not watch theirs for free? It’s all down to having a big ego. As I lay in my bed, it occurred to me that whoever buys fireworks, has to be the one who lets off the last one over the course of the night. After the mass of explosions had died down, occasionally you would hear a single firework bang, from one side of Weston (where I live). Moments later, another explosion from another area of the suburb. I’d like to say who won the sad ‘battle of the bangs’, but I fell asleep.
On this website, you’ll find me blogging (almost) daily about everyday life, living in Bath, working with computers, and the occasional bit of football stuff thrown in.
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