The loneliness of the long distance applicant

Applied for a place on the London Marathon next year. Figured I'd give myself 362 days to prepare. I'll be entered into the ballot along with the million other applicants and find out in October whether I've been successful. Either this year's race captured people's imaginations or we've got to "that age" - there's a hell of a lot of people saying they're up for it next April.

I have a summer to look forward to as a prospective marathon runner, without having to go to any of the actual effort of training. And, having opted to donate my entrance fee to charity in the event I don't get chosen, I have the added consolation of feelings of self-righteousness and a shiny red jacket to look forward to, should the race ticket not pan out. Win win really.

What better way to slip effortlessly into the final week of my nicotine patches? Unbelievably, barring any unseemly bank holiday lapses, I'm actually going to make it to the end of the 10 week course. As of Friday 8th May I will be patch and nicotine free for the first time since 1998. Never thought that would happen way back in February - might even be worth a fag to celebrate.

Back back back

Oh yes, a mere 48 hours after obliterating the memory of my PC, I am back online and firing on all cylinders. I only have 4 programs installed on the computer at the moment meaning it starts up in under a minute, and have not only negotiated the problems that arose with 'ethernet drivers' and 'multimedia audio controllers' but have even managed to connect direct to the internet this time around instead of faffing about with sub-standard wireless dongles. The high-speed internet has landed at last 'chez tattie', and I may even be getting something close to the 5MB broadband I pay for. What's more, the dodgy Saudi Arabian 'issue' that was preventing me from using Firefox has disappeared and I am back on my browser of choice once again.

All this boring computer chat may not sound very exciting to the uninitiated, but reformatting a PC is the 21st century equivalent of emerging, resplendent in 501s and grease-stained white t-shirt, from underneath the hood of '67 Ford Mustang having just repaired the dynamic combobulator with some viscose pantyhose from the girl next door, whilst chewing a match and squinting into the sunlight before running a hand through my hair, leaning against a tree and lighting a Marlboro with a match lit by flicking it off my teeth.

At least, it is in my head, and J has made all the right noises about how big, clever and sexy she finds me, having witnessed my 'putting in various CDs to the drive' over the past few days. Grrrr. Hear me roar, for verily, I am a tiger. A geeky tiger no better than a moderately intelligent 12 year old, but a tiger nonetheless.

Gonna go quiet(er) for a bit

I'm not gonna be posting anything for a wee bit as I attempt to fix my old creaky pc and make it vaguely capable of coping with the demands of modern life. No more will it complain of lack of disk space! No more will it not let me use Firefox unless I want to route everything via Saudi Arabia! No more will I have access to four years worth of pictures and tunes (unless I have somehow managed to back them up successfully).

So - not that you'll probably notice - it may be a few days before I'm back on line. Trust me, you will miss absolutely nothing of any consequence whatsoever.

The sun sets over another glorious day in London town....

Watched the marathon on TV this morning and now watching the BAFTAs at the Royal Festival Hall. If only I lived nearby, I would definitely definitely go to where these things were actually happening and be a part of it. Definitely. I mean, how shit would it be to live in the same city - never mind if that city was blessed with the most glorious weather of the year - and yet just be content to watch this stuff happening on telly when you could be there to witness it in the flesh? That would be a bit pathetic.

I met a mate for a couple of pints late this afternoon - only to find myself surrounded by smug marathon-finishers. Then I went to Sainsbury's in Brixton a short while ago and had to walk past about four more of them. I mean - Brixton? The crack capital of Britain? Put your medal away, we're not interested. I tell you, if I had got up at 6am this morning & run for 26 and a bit miles in four hours after months and months of training, the last thing I would do would be wanting to draw attention to the fact. Nope, I'd have changed out of my running gear, hidden my goody bag and melted down my medal, for fear that anyone might realise what a health conscious freak I was. I'd feel bad about making people feel guilty. You only have to look at the evidence of how I coped with my triumphs last year to realise what a caring, unobtrusive winner I am. Shame on you marathon runners... Shame on you.

Bringing sexy back

I've spent the last 20 minutes cleaning a year's worth of gunk out of the nooks and crannies of my mobile phone with a moist cotton bud.

And that, dear reader, is one of the many examples of why women want to be with me, and men want to be me.

Erm....

....the more astute amongst you may have noticed I've gone and buggered up the format of the blog again. I won't pretend this was entirely intentional. I wanted to add in links to various websites again, but the freebie template I was using didn't seem to allow me to do so. Thought I'd take the bouncy ball in a china shop approach and click on some stuff at random - hence the vision you see before you.

Will try and sort it out soon, in the meantime I hope it doesn't spoil your viewing pleasure too much....

The Albert Memorial

How long has that been there then? Been living in this city for 6 years and didn't know it existed until we stumbled across it on Easter Monday.

As tokens of affection, it craps all over the homemade valentines card I made last year.... Might have to up the ante next year - spell out 'I love you' in midget gems on the moon or something.

Summa-summa-summatiiiime

Ooh, summa-time

Yep, school's out and there's a sort of a buzz - back then I didn't really know what it was. But now I see what happens is the way that people respond to summer madness.

London town in the sunshine - if ever there was a sight to scream "begone hangover, I will not let you lead my life!" it is this view from my living room window. Am off out to play, also known as 'shop for a new casserole dish'. It all counts.

New cars = certain death.

Whilst perusing this 1978 travel guide in the pub last night, I came across the little known fact that "in Italy it is compulsory to have a mud flap attached to each wheel". Prompted to look out the window to ensure all the vehicles in Herne Hill were fit for purpose, imagine my shock and horror to discover that not a single car was blessed with the requisite rubber.

When did car manufacturers stop putting mud flaps on cars? And why?

It's got me very worried for our planned road trip next year, especially as the advice in the book also states "If you do contravene some minor motoring regulation you will probably be approached by a policeman. He may well extend a little sympathetic consideration, but don't expect him to be in the mould of the British 'bobby'. He will generally be more brusque, less amenable to argument and often have powers including the authority to bring a person before a magistrate with very little apparent reason."

Now, given that the mud flap issue is important enough to command its own separate heading in the book, attempting to take my flapless Clio on the mean streets of the Amalfi Coast would surely result in my sleeping with the fishes. If a terrifying foreign lawman will sling me before the judge for a misdemeanour, what awful fate might befall a flagrant disregard of what appears to be the single most important driving law in Italy?

At best, it's sheer cost-cutting irresponsibility by car manufacturers; at worst it hints at a Mafia-controlled conspiracy over-arching the industry at large, priming unsuspecting plucky Brits to be picked off at random on a steep mountain pass like in that James Bond film where the sports car goes into the tunnel and collides with a massive bulldozer being driven the other way by a shadowy henchman.

Thank goodness for my trip for a couple of quiet pints last night - it may just have saved our lives, just through highlighting this potentially deadly defect in modern automobiles. It seemed prudent to pay the 50p to purchase the book from the second hand bookstall in the pub, although given my gratitude I felt it was worthy of the full £2.50 (new money) that the cover price dictated. There are even more handy hints in its pages - for instance, did you know that there is a pill called Sylvasun which can be taken which prevents sunburn in 90.6% of cases? No need for suntan lotion ever again!

Honestly - Moon rockets, Concorde, mud flaps and Sylvasun - all commonplace in the 1970s and yet now seen no more. And they call this progress......

See that tabloid ambulance chaser run

'Ello chums. How was your Easter weekend? Mine was fine n dandy thanks for asking - four days of rest and recuperation, not quite scuppered by lying awake until after 3am last night. Why does that always happen after a weekend? Most frustrating. I wasn't too wrecked today though, in part helped by a dearth of stuff to be done at work, as the recession tightens its clammy grip on my venerable institution.

Currently trying to market myself to ensure I still have a job in the coming months - not easy when I've only been in my current role for a couple of months. But worst case scenarios are not currently as bad as they could be if I worked elsewhere, so am not too concerned at this juncture. Will, of course, keep you as posted on developments as discretion and local disciplinary policy allow.

The long weekend entailed rather a lot of heavy lifting, as I assisted two different couples move flat. There's something really nice about moving in spring, with the whole new beginnings thing and the freshness in the air & sun in the sky. It had the added advantage of giving my underused upper body a bit of a workout - no doubt when I'm preening in my Speedos on a Sicilian beach in July, I will give a metaphorical sleazy wink to the memory of lugging a sodden mattress across the dump car park on Saturday. All for you baby.

In other news, you'll no doubt be relieved to hear I've managed to narrow the Sat Nav choice down to the final few competitors. Excitement is reaching fever pitch, as I weigh up the relative merits of an extra 0.8" of screen or the inclusion of European maps. I need to stop writing sentences like that, it must be so frustrating to read for those of you who don't have the opportunity of regular trips down the pub with me for equally 'gold' chat.

First Name	Sex/ Age	City	State	Overall Place	Gender Place	Age Place	Finish Time	Pace/ Mile	AG Time	AG Gender Place	AG %
GAV	M31	NEW YORK	NY	2725	2115	442	52:01	8:23	51:46	2571	51.8 %

Went out running again tonight - keeping up my impressive once a week routine. I've been spurred back into 'action' by the news that Gav from New York has come perilously close to usurping my personal best (51:12), completing a rain, haggis and cullen skink-lashed route round NYC in aid of the Scottish Tourist Board on Saturday. He's obviously been training hard, and powered his little legs around in a highly creditable 51:46 minutes (good effort my man) - reckoning that with a bit more practice he'll go sub-50. I can't possibly let him beat me to that, as the young upstart only started running about 6 months ago, so I strapped on the plimsolls again this evening and pounded the mean streets of Clapham - the sounds of Fatboy Slim willing me home, if only so I could turn the bloody shite off.

Started off well, before flagging badly towards the end of my epic 3.5k trek - not exactly 48 minute 10km form but definitely an improvement on the smoked tattie of yore, with the added bonus that I passed the 125km mark as measured by my wildly inaccurate Nikeplus gizmo. They seem awfully impressed - didn't have the heart to tell them I'd run at least that far before buying the bloody thing. Just need to find myself some sort of competition to enter now, that doesn't fall on a Sunday or Bank Holiday. Whilst I am 100% committed to my athletics career, I'm buggered if I'm spending another weekend of the booze for the sake of demonstrating my not considerable talents.

Off the strong stuff

Yes, somehow, I have made it to the end of the full strength nicotine patches. Six whole, long, weeks without a cigarette. Well, 6 weeks and 1 day if we're being pedantic and obsessively counting every last second, as I had a patch-free day when sick.

On to stage 2 now for two weeks, although I got a bit of shock when I opened the packet this morning. The sealed pack is the same size as before, but the patch itself is about half the size - it looked minuscule after the beasts I've been sticking to my body and I don't have a huge amount of confidence in their ability to keep me on the straight, narrow and fragrant.

I've come this far so won't go down without a fight, but the sunshine is here, bringing evocative promises of warmth, beer gardens, parks and beaches.... Many better men than me have failed. Let the self-handicapping commence.

Is there anything better than to be a bloke browsing for a new gadget? My upcoming ascent into adulthood via the medium of car ownership has opened up the amazing world of Sat Navs to my blinking, wide eyes. Putting my fears that these things are just another step towards a 'Back to the Future 2'-style existence (or more precisely, a "Johnny Cab from 'Total Recall'" world of self-driving cars), they are easily the coolest things I've seen in ages.

I've just got a little over-excited on Ebay and bid £60 for a broken Garmin - thankfully I was saved in the very last second by someone who must have put in one of those "guaranteed winning" bids. What started as a hopeful punt degenerated into my staring at the screen through my fingers, as the refresh button failed to change the notice stating "it's almost over and you're still the highest bidder!". All of a sudden, I realised that I don't have the money to buy a Sat Nav until next week, i don't have the first clue over how much I should be paying or what model to go for, I haven't spent nearly enough time salivating over the possibilities yet, and besides - the lack of a functioning on/off button might prove a little inconvenient.

But God, it made me feel alive....

Definitely need to drink less and get out more.

Don't blame it on sunshine

What a glorious day.... the sun is splitting the sky, there is a mere 24 hours until a four day weekend, and I got described as "cool, calm and authoritative" at work today by someone who obviously doesn't know me very well...

All in all, perfect sunny pint weather. Shame that I've no one to have one with. Bloody children / responsible jobs gettin in the way... Lukewarm can of Carlsberg in front of my 'virtual' friends it is then - harumph.

I feel drunken on a Tuesday night despite the fact I've had less than 3 beers. Still, faring better than Lucy, with whom I shared 2 pints after work and is apparently now regurgitating her evening cauliflower cheese. Possible the beer, despite being £3.63 a pint, was a bit rubbish.

All go at work, literally. Keeping life interesting if nothing else. Dreaming of escaping and become a Page 3 photographer or a truck driver like I used to wish for as a kid. Or, even better, a Truck Driving Page 3 photographer. Imagine the possibilities....

Ear ear

I've been deaf in one ear for a week now.... Think I may have broken it. Too much prodding and poking trying to clear whatever it is - half on my hearing sounds like it's underwater.....

Anyone got any ideas on how to fix it, beside Olive Oil? That was pretty unsuccessful...

Everyone loves....

Been a bit dull and heavy with recent posts, so as it's (almost) Friday, here's some Magical Trevor. Hadn't watched it for ages but it's one of my favourite cartoons from Weebls Stuff and is the basis for the new 118 247 advert. A shame that it's being used, but I suppose it was only a matter of time, and I think the guy that started the whole thing works in advertising or graphic design anyway, so perhaps the only surprise is that it took so long.

Anti-test

So, the G20 protests. That was big and clever, wasn't it? How to make the world's leaders think you have an argument worth listening to - run around a city's financial district smashing windows and daubing graffiti everywhere. I've no doubt that a lot of the people in the protests had valid arguments and issues they wanted to discuss. But I didn't hear any of them, other than the usual "it's really bad to make the rich richer and have poor people and that".

Just an idea, but if you want Gordon Broon and Barack Obama to take notice of your views, why not try articulating them in meaningful debate rather than running about on some kind of glorified student rag week (as described in the Guardian) getting up to hi jinks? I don't know, crazy thought, but how about using the democracy you're so fond of referring to to maybe form a political party and challenge the old guard at the next elections? Or is it that you are unable to explain exactly what you're protesting against, much less formulate a viable alternative to the course of action currently being undertaken by the government.

The majority of people on yesterday's protests seemed to have as much of a clue about why they were there as kids in Northern Ireland do as to why they're nationalist or unionist. They were there because, as liberal left wing socialists, they were supposed to be. Because the world is in economic crisis, people are losing their jobs and a few of the richest are not only unaffected, they actually seem to be profiting from the situation. But come on. Why the hell should anyone give you the time of day if all you're going to do is rock up in the centre of town going "thisisbad, fixitandgiveusallmoremoneypleasethankyou". I used to work for a boss well versed in the spouting of management bullshit, but in his words, "don't bring me problems, bring me solutions".

One thing I'm particularly irritated about is that in voicing my opinion I probably seem all Daily Mail and Conservative. I'm not, but neither am I a dumb sheep who is jumping on the burn the Fat Cat campaign becuase it's what I 'should' be doing and it gives me a good excuse to dance to bad techno in the Royal Exchange. I am, however, more than willing to listen to anyone who understands the ins and outs of the global situation and comes up with a workable, effective resolution other than throwing good money after bad to failing banks.

I don't profess to understand the economics of the whole thing - much like the majority of the population I would imagine - but I am guessing that there was a reason why the banks were bailed out by the Government, no? Perhaps, you know, that the whole of the British economy would completely collapse if they went under? No? Still believe it's a conspiracy between the MPs and banks? Whatever.

Yesterday, the clever clever "anarchists" decided that the best way to make the leaders of the free world take notice of their 'demands' was to break a few windows at a bank branch and break in, throwing a few keyboards and posters about. This sums up the trouble makers yesterday. "I know how to make a point! Let's protest against the fact that some banks have had to be bailed out by the tax payer by finding one of those tax-payer-owned bank branches, trashing it, and then sitting back and watch as some of our taxes go towards repairing the damage. Brilliant! I've no idea why we've no credibility". Good work fellas.