Random Tuesday
I’m on holiday and yet I get woken up this morning at about 8am by workmen
building an ugly fence across the road. About 2 feet tall and sickly
green, it is horrifically out of place and must surely be teetering on the
brink of being legally classified as aesthetic pollution. And despite all
of this noise and it’s detrimental effect on my sleep thereafter…
…postie failed to alert me to his presence so my Lord of the Rings 4 disc
DVD set is now sat in the sorting office. It’s the first film btw – I am
behind the times. I wanted to read the books before watching the films but
since that seems improbable given that it’s only a matter of fifty or
sixty years until I die and I can’t envisage a big enough character
alteration, I have finally decided to watch the films. Only I can’t
because postie decided not to leave it on the step as he usually does and
didn’t knock loud enough for me to hear him. I was awake as you know…
…and I am left with a strange tired / dizzy feeling which starts as a
whirring in my head and then shoots off once a head of steam is built up
and manifests itself as momentary numbness in my hands, knees, feet or
lips. I’ve had it once before and, sitting here now at a mature 5.15pm, I
can say that the cure which worked first time seems to have worked again.
I’m no doctor (no, really) but pizza appears to be medically valid. So,
feeling ill as I did, the last thing I wanted to do was go out…
…but I went out nevertheless. I went to the village in which I spend
several hours each day imagining what it must be like not to be in an
annoying office, eating sweets and wondering how a company as shite as
Norwich Union manages to make an awful lot of money for it’s greedy and
borderline evil board of directors. I got some essential oils for my
vaporiser, some candles for the same and 14 bags of Hula Hoops for a mere
87p from the supermarket. However, I had an even greater mission to
perform. One that sets me apart from normal members of society…
…for today was the day that the Radio Times came out. I haven’t bought a
copy of that informative publication for nearly a year. TiVo rendered it
obsolete since one is a paper magazine capable only of telling and the
other is a computer capable of both telling and doing. So why did I trudge
out with a head that my hypochondria convinced me was a brain tumour to
buy a magazine that I don’t need? Simple – it’s the 40th anniversary Dr
Who cover issue and I wanted it for posterity. It? Them. For there were
multiple covers and I bought them all. Four covers, four different
newsagents and no funny looks what so ever. Put them all together and you
get a panoramic image. Sell them all together and you could get a nice
windfall from eBay in a few years. Not that such thoughts crossed my mind
for a second…
…although plenty of dizzy pulses did. I was unsafe to drive probably.
That’s why I’ve stayed in this afternoon listening to Kid Rock and
breathing in essence of ginger. I’ve been creating a few little bits and
bobs for the Christmas Gifts section of thevervoid.com – everything you
never knew you couldn’t live without. Because Doctor Who fans will buy any
old tat as long as it’s connected to the show. Why not a Guinness Dalek or
a Colin Baker cheesecake calendar…
…because “The Legend” arrived today. The big anniversary tribute book from
the BBC. I’ve only flipped through it and although the photographs look
nice and the text may well be superficially informative, the design is
abysmal. The use of that retro computer font is a hideous mistake. I’m no
designer but I can tell what I don’t like and this is one book that I
don’t like. I appreciate that you have to make it look interesting to
attract punters who don’t want to spend £40 on a dry looking volume but
just look to DWM each month to see that colourful design doesn’t have to
look like something that was knocked up by a nerd on his first morning
playing around with DTP software…
…I only paid £16 for it btw – I may be stupid but I’m not that stupid.
Well not all the time…
…which is running short for me. I become officially dole scum in six weeks
and I’m no nearer to doing anything. I’ve long known that I need someone
around to push me and drive me and get me to do things and – typically –
just when I need someone like that, I find someone like that. Someone that
can momentarily (for we snatch only moments) instil the confidence that
you need to be anything in life. Typically she is hundreds of miles away.
Such is life…
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