Sean's Stories

Posted by sean on 31/07/2014 at 4:31 pm in Website Stuff with No Comments


I am sure you are all extremely worried about my wellbeing, especially after my last blog where I stated 

By the way, if there is no blog from me tomorrow, it is probably because the world has been hit by a meteorite, a la Armageddon , as today’s post has pissed off all the Jehovah’s Witnesses in the universe. They’ll all be dead too, but at least they can say “I told you so”

Given that this was written on Sunday, a whole FOUR DAYS ago, I bet you all thought I was dead or worse, the world had ended. I am pleased to report that I have not died and as far as I am aware, the world is still very much spinning.

The reason for zero updates is no laziness. I have been putting a lot of work into updating my blog behind the scenes. Firstly all the very old entries now have titles (albeit a time stamp). Every blog is also being assigned a category, which will make filtering past and future posts very easy (which I am sure will delight you all).
I may blog a real blog later, I may just do some more categories. I may do BOTH. Aren’t you lucky people!

Posted by sean on 27/07/2014 at 3:18 pm in Bath City, Fun At Home, South Park, Television with No Comments


Saturday was a long day and full of drama…

With Claire working, I decided to spend the morning watching some television that I like, and she isn’t a huge fan of. This started with the previous evening’s Friday Night Dinner. “Whaaaat?” you say? “Friday Night Dinner on a Saturday morning? FRIDAY N-I-G-H-T Dinner?” Yes, that’s right. I don’t like by the rules. I’m mad, bad and dangerous to know. Speaking of bad, I was disappointed with this week’s episode of FND. It was the finale of a truly excellent series, which included psychotic little girls, dead foxes, crazy old men who look like Hitler and horrible piano tuners. This episode, which, unlike all the others, wasn’t set on Friday night, featured a wedding. While funny in places, it was generally a let-down. I’m sorry, creators of FND, but I’m going to do it. I’m going to use the phrase nobody wants to hear about their own television creation… WORST EPISODE EVER.

After enduring FND, I made my way through some South Park episodes I hadn’t seen for a while, or, in some cases, not at all. There I was, happily enjoying a storyline about how Cartman rigged the US General Election, to prevent The Chinese from getting the rights to Star Wars (there is a link, watch the episode), when I noticed something in the street outside…

A very smartly dressed man and two children, were walking from house to house, ringing and knocking doorbells. Nobody answered. This wasn’t because there wasn’t anyone home, all the house windows were open, due to the hot weather. The reason no resident came to the door, was because they were avoiding whoever was at the door! The smartly dressed man and the two children were up to something strange… they didn’t appear to be selling anything; nor were they charity workers. This looked much worse. From my view on the sofa, it looked to as if they were trying to preach and force their religion upon others. That’s right, they were Jehovah’s Witnesses! The worse kind of door-to-door disturbers.

I muted the television and quickly headed for the kitchen. While you cannot see into the house from outside, we have net curtains and if you were to press your face up against the windows, you would be able to view into our front room. Given the fact these Jehovah’s Witnesses not only rang the doorbell of the house opposite, but banged on the door when there was no answer, they appeared to be determined. I lay, in fear, in the kitchen, waiting for my own doorbell to be rung. I waited for my summons. I waited and waited. Would I be here for hours? Would it be days? I was grateful for the small mercy that there was a water supply and enough food to see me through for a couple of weeks. I remember hoping that this would be enough. Then the next door neighbour’s dog started barking. The Jehovah’s Witnesses were close. The dog was then silenced. Probably killed and eaten. Then, the terrifying moment I was waiting for arrived. The doorbell of my own house rang. They were here.

I stood in fear in my kitchen, knowing ‘they’ were outside. It was then I remembered something truly petrifying. The window in the front room was open! There was an entry to my house. Granted, it was only a small gap, but an easy obstacle for a determined Jehovah’s Witness. It wouldn’t take much for one of the slim children to climb through, find me and preach about Armageddon.

I remained in the kitchen, in silence, hoping they would leave me alone and walk away. After what seemed like hours, when in fact it was probably 30 seconds, I heard them walk away. I recall the child asking the smartly dressed man why nobody answered their doors. I wasn’t able to hear his response. I was free. I was safe. Later that morning, I saw the trio of preachers walking up the road. They were trying to gain access to the garden of another house through the back gate. A chill ran up my spine.

By the way, if there is no blog from me tomorrow, it is probably because the world has been hit by a meteorite, a la Armageddon , as today’s post has pissed off all the Jehovah’s Witnesses in the universe. They’ll all be dead too, but at least they can say “I told you so”

There were more scares to come for me. No sooner had I settled down on the sofa to watch some more South Park episodes, than a giant wasp flew in through the window. At least I assume it was a wasp. Perhaps one of the Jehovah’s Witnesses had morphed into a flying creature. Wasps are stupid shits. This one managed to find its way through the window, crawl around the net curtain and enter the house. It then decided it wanted to leave, but was unable to find its way out. The wasp was too furious to allow me to catch it in a jar and if I had been a Good Samaritan and attempted to pick it up and set it free in the garden, the bastard would no doubt have stung me. It was him or me. I returned to the kitchen. Not to hide, this time, but to get my age old weapon… the can of insect spray – last used on a giant spider in my flat. I sprayed the wasp until it was docile enough to allow me to catch it in a glass and drop it out the front door. I’d like to think it recovered from its ordeal, woke up and flew home to its family. In reality, it’s probably dead.

The afternoon was spent was Twerton Park, watching Bath City against Cheltenham Town in the final home preseason friendly. It was unbearably hot. I was sweating like a pig and all I was doing was stood watching the game. I don’t know how the players, who had to run around for 90 minutes, didn’t die. I suppose being trained athletes had something to do with that.

After the hottest game of football I’ve ever had the misfortune to attend, I made my way to the slightly cooler sponsor’s lounge, deep in the bowels of Twerton Park’s main stand. It was the Supporters Club AGM, followed by another talk on away travel. This seemed to go on for hours. It did. By the time I left, it was almost 7pm. All I wanted at this point was to eat, drink and sleep. Which, when I got home, is what I did. This is why Saturday’s blog is being written on a Sunday. Crazy, huh? What did I tell you? Mad, bad and dangerous to know.

Posted by sean on 25/07/2014 at 11:55 am in Work Activities with No Comments


… try being a crane driver

The crane which is being used to put together our new IT building tipped over today. Well, that is what I was told by a very excitable colleague. After rushing over to the site, expecting to see a crane on the floor, amongst a pile of mangled metal and crushed concrete, I saw a crane on its side a little. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed. I suppose to a builder, this is a pretty serious job, as cranes are big and can’t be moved easily. This does beg the question, what will move it back into position? If a crane is used to move everything too big for everything else known to man, what exactly moves a crane? I suppose all will be revealed soon. I would have got a photo, but like I said, I thought it looked less than impressive from where I was stood. Plus if I stood around the building site, taking photos of the disaster, I would probably get attacked by angry work men

Posted by sean on 24/07/2014 at 11:00 am in Me Vs. The World, Television with No Comments


I have a job to do when I get home from work tonight. This job primarily involves ripping BskyB a new arsehole. We have been with them almost a year. As this year is coming to an end, the guarantee on all our satellite equipment will run out, resulting in the dish spontaneously combusting and the box sprouting legs and walking off. Yup, we need one of those stupid care packages to protect us against all these eventualities. If the stuff was properly made, there would be no need for these extended warranties. 

Anyway… A man from Sky called Claire yesterday. She didn’t take his name, but I don’t suspect it was Jeff Stelling or Rupert Murdoch. From the sounds of things, the aforementioned man tried to sell Claire a load of useless bollocks, and quizzed her on all our television appliances in our house – how old they were, how much they cost… it probably wasn’t Sky, it was probably a burglar, enquiring if our house has stuff worth nicking. It hasn’t. Our TV is only 32 inches. Burglar Bill told Claire some lie how our personal insurance policy didn’t cover us. How the fuck he knew this, I don’t know. The liar.

They’re sending us confirmation of our new “policy” in the post. Probably written in crayon. I will be calling Sky tonight and telling them where to stick this policy (in the bin). I will reluctantly pay for our satellite dish and box to be covered, although considering the extortionate monthly fee we pay for television already, I don’t see why we should. What I will not pay for is for our TV, radio, microwave, pot plant or anything else to be insured. I have my arsehole-ripping gloves ready.

Posted by sean on 23/07/2014 at 11:03 am in Fun At Home, Shopping with No Comments


Yesterday afternoon, while I was at work, Claire text me. She was annoyed. Tesco had delivered our online shop and had cocked up. A huge bottle of milk had arrived broken and was dripping milk all over the house. Claire’s favourite weekly television listings magazine, TV Easy, was also wrong. It was an old issue. What is the point in that? I suppose Claire and I could snuggle together on the sofa, both reading the outdated magazine, and look at TV programs we could have watched last weekend.

Perhaps the biggest mistake of all by Tesco involved my Toffee Bon Bons. They were out of stock. While I can just about believe that these were all sold out (after all, they are delicious), what did madden me was their failure to provide any suitable substitution. Are they telling me were no suitable sweets they could provide instead? Whoever picked our shopping this week was very lazy, or stupid, or blind, or all of these things.
I’ll stop moaning about Tesco. Until next week, at least, when we’ll get another delivery, which will no doubt involve exploding tins of baked beans, spiders in the bananas and substituting a tube of toothpaste for a bag of toenails.

After her ordeal with Tesco, I gave Claire the night off, and cooked all the tea myself; because I am such a good husband-to-be, and also because Claire cleaned the entire house, while I was at work, with our brand-spanking new vacuum cleaner. Her brother’s girlfriend, Jess, also visited, so I felt like Gordon Ramsey in the kitchen. In fact, I was more like Captain Birdseye, considering I was only cooking breaded chicken, vegetable burgers, chips and a pre-prepared salad.

While I cooked, Claire and Jess discussed hen parties. I am still to plan my stag weekend, although have my heart set on a weekend to York, the place of my birth. Of course, when going up north, it would be rude not to make a trip to the northern home of football, Elland Road, and catch a Leeds United game. This could end badly, considering some members of my stag party don’t like football. Also, Leeds are rubbish at football, so will probably lose and ruin my entire weekend.

After eating a meal fit for school dinners, we ate Claire’s offering – chocolate and cornflake cakes. Jess then painted Claire’s face with makeup. I make it sound like they were playing games. There was a purpose behind the makeup application. It was in preparation for our wedding, less than 11 months away. While Claire will be having makeup, I have been told I won’t. If she wanted to marry a man with makeup, she would have to choose Boy George, The Joker or Ronald McDonald.

Sean's Stories

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.

If you're expecting The Man Booker Prize, you've come to the wrong place. If you want to read a collection of sometimes eccentric, often disturbing and rarely amusing ramblings, gorge your eyes on this.

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