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In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Wicked Witch.”


Evil surrounds us every day, I don’t man in a religious sense like Good vs Evil as I do not believe in god or the devil, but evil can be seen through the deeds of the people that carry such deeds out.

There are so many examples it would be impossible to cover them all but open a daily newspaper and you can read all about it, you rarely get the “feel good” stories in newspapers or if you do they are a token offering that is sprinkled around the detritus of the world.

But evil isn’t every bad act that happens, Evil is reserved for those special people that have no empathy to others, no remorse just a cold stark outlook. For example someone may rob another person’s home and that is obviously a bad act but it isn’t evil. However should that perpetrator then imprison the occupants, torture them and their pets then that turns the whole thing into something much more horrifying, more evil.

This is the nature of human beings, we are by nature a destructive force, just look at what we are doing to this planet…. And eachother.


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I need something, something to grasp, something to give me strength because mine is failing. There is only so much one can take mentally before you just give the fuck up and stop trying and I think that I may be reaching that crossover point. In fact I may have already crossed it as there are certain things I don’t give a damn about anymore.

My Missus sulks for days and days if there is the slightest disagreement and even though I try to ignore it, I cannot do so fully and therefore it eats away at me, I have a teenage son who is a lazy liar and I’ve tried the friendly approach, I’ve tried the not so friendly approach and although I should know by now that you cannot change someone just by words, they have to want the change to happen, I still have “those chats” with him and because it is getting nowhere I am feeling helpless there too, to the point where I am considering threatening him with kicking him out of home so I don’t have to deal with it anymore… cannot say I have not tried, and if I am honest I don’t really want to try anymore.

I wonder if people without kids are happier, or even people that are single. I think if you are single you need to be quite strong mentally to deal with the times when you are alone, but from a detached point of view kids are just a never ending series of challenges, when they are babies the challenges are different but teens can be unique, they are their own people with likes, dislikes etc, they are set in their ways on some things and have opinions on a variety of things. As I alluded to earlier no one will change (kids or adults) unless they want to.

For example I used to smoke, never really in front of the kids, but I have given up smoking and found out a little while ago that my son smokes. I tried to talk him out of that. What is apparent is that if he wants to smoke he will smoke regardless of what I say, I could show the kids a smoke ravage lung and if he wants to smoke still he will.

He recently told me he gave up but then I saw him smoking and he saw me, so he is a liar too, he never gave up. (that isn’t the only thing he has lied to me about) so now he gets the hump with me because I don’t believe him but he has lied to me and I know of lies he has said to others on multiple occasions, he will not stop lying unless he wants to, in fact I think that his initial reaction to most things is a lie.

So my way of thinking is that if I never had kids, I would never have all this BS stress and I would be happier rather than constantly worried about them (parents never ever stop worrying about their kids no matter their age), the thought is appealing ill admit, just up and leave, start over… but I don’t alone all that well, and that is the main thing keeping me where I am, that is pretty sad isn’t it.


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I can sit and look at the blank screen for ages willing the words to come into my head, searching for the life lessons and life stories that I must have plenty of all tucked down in the subconscious, they can be anything, the serious, the jovial, the close calls, the good stuff or the bad but one of two things happen, my brain draws a blank or I just cannot formulate the words into something that sounds remotely interesting.

And so I sit and stare at a blank page, I may jot a few lines down and then delete, I may post up a number of posts even and then re-read them and realise that they are just dull and without interest. I see people new to all this whom seem to fall into it naturally, the words flow, the pictures are relevant and they have a nice flow of interaction and I cannot help but wonder if perhaps this just isn’t for me.

It is like having blog bipolarism, one time I am full of beans and eagerness and tapping away furiously on the keyboard and then the next self-doubt comes surging forward willing me to stop and more recently, where I used to plough through I have been willing to stop and dropped it like a stone.

I am on the self-doubt side of that way of thinking at the moment but I am looking at other blogs in an attempt to find that sweet spot of writing, I hope it comes soon.


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I created a video the other day. This was the first time I have ever attempted this and whilst not perfect I am pleased with the results.

Last week Thursday I did some overtime at work, nothing blog worthy really but a number of things came together that gave me an idea for a video. Out of the train window there was a fantastic clear sky, that coupled with the time of day (around 7.30pm) and the fact I was listening to a certain piece of music gave me this idea and so I went for it.

Like I said it wasn’t perfect, but I like the concept so I thought I would do a full length one at some point.

The bad
At the beginning there are fairly long periods of total blackness
Sometimes you can see the interior of the train (although that may add to the atmosphere
The track I used was over 10 minutes long whereas the video is just over 4 minutes long so the audio cuts off abruptly at the end

The Good
I think the music fits perfectly with the video
The silhouette of the foreground with the sky is nice
At the end where the station sign lines up with the centre of the camera was good luck.

What do you think?


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Part 1 here

… So anyway, Ian (that is what I heard then call the old man) went off with the transport people and I sat there waiting that ever patient game in the corridor when all of a sudden the door opened and some fresh faced girl called my name and I went into the room. The doc sat there, we exchange pleasantries. On a side note I always smile over the irony that when visiting a doctor they say “how are you” and you always say “not bad” or something similar. Well why the hell are you there if you are “not bad”

We went through what I went there for which was the Sarcoidosis, I thought it had gotten worse, he didn’t think so and before they ply me with nasty steroids they needed a few tests done, I needed a blood test and a chest xray. I wandered to radiology where there was loads of people, my patient waiting game would need to be strong here, but I wasn’t so went first for my blood test, more waiting, although only about 20 minutes this time, then back to radiology for another 45 minute wait before the chest x-ray.

I wouldn’t mind so much if they looked busy but there were only about 8 people when I arrived and all out names were on separate bits of paper in a box, the department was not busy, and I swear if someone looked in that box again without actioning anything I was going to kick off. On top of that twice they called me and as I got up they said “oh just making sure you’re here” is that some kind of sick joke?

So with the initial appointment over, the blood test done the xray done I had been in the hospital for almost 3.5 hours and I left back into the sunshine, the heat of the day burning off the feeling of death and decay.

I get the bad feeling every time I go to a hospital, the staff are humans, as I said before they are desensitised to it, these are not humans they are dealing with, they are medical numbers, moved from place to place, they are names on paper but not people, especially not the ones that are really messed up, the people like that Ian guy, his mind clearly mush, is that what I have to look forward too, after being taxed to death during my life by the government, having my kids treat me like a bank and give me years of stress just to fuck off in their nice shiny new home themselves and never visit me, Be treated badly if I end up in a nursing home, shitting my pants and having someone wipe my arse… no thanks I’d rather be dead.

I see it even with me now in the way I treat my mum, she repeats herself again and again and again and I get frustrated, seeing her is a list of endless questions, hows work? Hows the kids? Is the TV working ok? Have you see so and so? And then if my missus turns up she will ask her all the same shit she asked me. If this sort of things annoys me and I am only there an hour at a time, what must these people who works in hospitals be like when they get it for a full days shift from multiple people. Sod that

Getting old is depressing.


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Hospitals are depressing places. It doesn’t matter if they are new and brightly painted, with large windows that let in lots of light, it doesn’t matter that it could be a lovely sunny day outside. As soon as you walk through that entrance it is a places of illness and death, unless your over by A&E and then it is just a high proportion of drunken bums and malcontents interspersed by a few normal people. A&E (at least where I am) tends to have a high number of beefy security guards ready to break up the violence that is often a real threat there, and I live in a fairly decent borough.

But that is not the area of the hospital I went to recently anyway, I went to the cardio and respiratory department. Luckily it was fairly empty the only other person in my waiting room was an old confused woman in her wheelchair and her helper and they left soon after I got there leaving me to wait.

You will notice that about hospitals here, those not being able to afford private healthcare use the NHS and you wait, wait some more, then do more waiting even though you are the only person in the waiting room. If the waiting room is full you just wait even longer. They took me to go see a nurse whereby the took my blood pressure, height and weight and then told me to go down by door 5 and wait again, and there I sat for another 20 or so minutes whilst the doctor did whatever he was doing behind closed doors before I was called.

Whilst doing all this waiting there was an old man in a bed in the corridor, he was old, he had no idea where he was, he mumbled and moaned and shouted help all the time I was there, it was irritating. Various nurses went up to speak to him, one fed him, one talked to him in that patronising loud way you talk to old people that have lost their marbles, or maybe loudly is how people talk to old people by default. About 15 minutes after I sat there the transport people turned up and transferred him to another bed, he continued to shout for help and generally not know where the hell he was.

I suspect Dementia. It reminded me very much of my Dad before he died of a form of Parkinsons, or rather the complications you get from having a disease like that. Is that how it will be I wonder, is that how I will go out, disease? Dementia? Mugged or murdered for my pension by some little turd that wont really serve much of a sentence? Who knows. Perhaps Ill reach a ripe old age and have my wits about me to the very end and succumbing to something that is super quick and super painless.

I wondered if the nurses did actually care, or do you become desensitised to that sort of thing. I think you do become desensitized, even considering stuff that shocks us these days to maybe what shocked people in the 1950s or 60s. In the end you just wish the people with the diseases like that guy would just die. It sounds harsh and perhaps it is but often it is a blessing from them as well as the family. After all I wouldn’t want to not be able to do anything for myself, having to be washed, my backside wiped, surely at that point you are not living a life, your existing in a hell that only goes when you breathe no more…


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 photo Tunnel1.jpg

I had to go to an area of London yesterday called South Bank in order to pick up some IT equipment. South Bank is right by the river Thames, not too far from the Houses of Parliament. I was there real early so grabbed some lunch in Wagamama and then took a little walk around.

Under the railway bridge I saw these and whenever I see anything like this it raises ll kinds of questions, how long have they been bricked up? What were they used for? Why was one more ornate than the other.

I always thought that this bridge was called Charing Cross Bridge but since I looked up a few things it is in fact called Hungerford Bridge (That would be a good question in a pub quiz wouldn’t it?). Anyways, Wikipedia does say this…

The buttress on the South Bank side still has the entrances and steps from the original steamer pier Brunel built on to the footbridge.

So it would seem to be that it is those, although the ground in front of those entrances forward to the water (which was about the same distance behind me as the tunnels are in front of me) I imagine would have been massively different. I wonder what is behind the brickwork though, a dusty, mouldy tunnel with nothing in it or something a little more exotic? What do you think would be in there should all the bricks covering the entrance be taken away?

 photo Tunnel3.jpg


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1 to 1.5 750ml bottles of Leffe Blonde leaves you feeling exactly as I want to feel forever


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I found a blog today. I read a few posts and thought “yeah looks good” and so added to my rss feed. the rss feed adds 10 of the most recent posts from people that I add. this is the first post in that 10.

I’ll admit I nearly skipped this story as I am busy at work (you’ll get the irony of that if you read it). I love this story, I want to be this good when I write something.

Originally posted on a coffee break with mike:


Charlie treated himself to an early lunch. After all, the morning had been hectic. More meetings than he could count, or cared to remember, and non-stop phone calls. He was exhausted.

View original 1,141 more words


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I had a docs visit where I expressed my concerns about my Sarcoidosis he gave me a blood test form and I went for a blood test a few weeks back. Luckily I work near a centre in London and went there during my lunch break, Unlucky for my they couldn’t find a vein and I was punctured 3 times, but hey they got there in the end.

Fast forward a few weeks and I visited the doc for the result of my blood test. The good news is that my blood looks absolutely fine. The bad news is that the original doc had not put down the need for a serum ace test. I’ve no real clue as to what this test is but if the Ace levels are high it generally means the Sarcoid is active or I am having a flair up. Also I found this page which says…

The serum ACE level has only a limited role in diagnosis and does not contribute to monitoring patients with pulmonary sarcoidosis when added to serial lung function and imaging.

As an aside isn’t medical talk complicated? You read stuff like lymphadenopathy or hepatomegaly and it all sounds so exotic and serious I had to look up the meaning online. I mean who was it and said “I know, well call this thing hepatomegaly”… crazy.

Anyway I’ve calmed my fears a little, although the skin lesions are getting worse and when I saw worse I mean more are coming out, but I am still hopeful that all I have is Curaneous Sarcoid (ie skin) rather than having progressed (all progress is not a word id use really) to something like cardiac (heart) or respiratory (lungs) Sarcoidosis. In fact on that page I linked it says of Cutaneous Sarcoidosis…

Cutaneous sarcoidosis almost never causes significant medical problems and is, therefore, treated only if it is of cosmetic importance to the patient. The initial corticosteroid dose is 20–40 mg of daily prednisolone equivalent.

So I am hoping beyond hope that it has stayed as the skin variant on not moved on. I am loathe to do the steroid injections again though because last time the area of skin dipped in like a small crater.

Anyway, after all this. the new doc sent me for a new blood test which I had done on 28/04, I read the form, wow, he is asking for so much. He has referred me back for a reassessment of the severity (or not) of the Sarcoidosis to a rather scary but superb consultant in a Hospital near me. She looks after Respiratory stuff and whilst mine is skin based if it has progressed then as 90%+ of cases have it in the lungs then it may be a good starting point AND I will speak to her on getting referred again to a Sarcoid specialist at Kings College Hospital, the good thing here is that Kings College and my Local hospital are in the same trust… so till next time, fingers crossed.