Another Ghost Story

What with it almost being Halloween I would just like to say that I’ve never seen a ghost. I’ve felt some kind of presence and been scared and then seen faces in the curtain and unknown noises. But I have an explanation for that, I was young and thought there might be a ghost in the room so my senses were heightened. There weren’t any faces in the curtain, it was my mind playing tricks on me.

Not all people come to this conclusion. There are some who claim to see ghosts regularly. The kind of people who don’t know the meaning of the word coincidence and claim to ‘be a bit psychic’.
Then there are others that are reasonably well adjusted people but have claimed to have seen a ghost. I know some of these people kind and when they explain the story they never say that it could have been a ghost, but that it defiantly was. And they get annoyed when I show scepticism. “Why would I l lie?” they say. I tell them that its not that they’re lying but that it could’ve been some other explanation. Or that maybe it’s the caretaker like in Scooby Do.

Why is it that only really old houses are supposed to be haunted? Why are there never any modern ghosts?
Because one thing that remains constant in the stories that I’ve herd is that the ghost is always dressed like it’s from the eighteenth century. Why does no-one claim to see ghosts from different periods in history?
Billions of people have died before then and billions after so why no ghosts from the 70s with long hair, dressed in flares with a big collared shirt and a tank top?

The January Lull

So the summer ends, the clocks go back and the nights draw in, Halloween shortly followed by Bon Fire Night, the build up to Christmas, Christmas eve, Christmas day, Boxing day, New Years Eve, New Years Day, the decorations come down and then its back to work feeling shattered and with serious damage done to your bank account, New Years resolutions broke and the New Year blues kick in, the Christmas trees left out for the dustmen and people still saying Happy New Year well into January.

Well I certainly feel shattered and my bank balance has taken a bit of a kicking but that’s what excessive drinking will do. I’m tired and I think too much time sat on the sofa playing video games has turned my brain to mush.
So my New Years resolution is to start doing more constructive productive stuff. But right now I can’t, I’m just too tired. Tomorrow, tomorrow, I promise.
Maybe I should start taking life more seriously this year and draw out a five year plan or something. Oh fuck off, I said do more productive stuff not become a complete bore.

The Heating

"Send in your pictures of the snow to our email address,” the BBC news presenter said., for a pointless edition to their website. That was when the snow first hit. The newsreaders aren’t so perky about the snow now that its been here for over a week and flights, roads, and rail have all been heavily disrupted.

At this time of year I prefer crisp cold whether and snow than mild grey skies that always threaten to drizzle. That is until it puts my travel arrangements in jeopardy.
For me the worst thing about winter is the gas bill. But not anymore as the gas bill is inclusive in the rent. The only drawback with that is that I have no control over the heating as the landlord has set the timer and the boiler door is locked. The heating comes on at five which is understandable because the other people in the flats get home about six. But I get home in the afternoon and yesterday I had the day off. I could see my own breath as I lay on the sofa covered under blankets.

But I would still rather that than have to pay my own heating bill. In a previous place I lived my flatmate would leave the heating on full blast all the time. I would wake up in the morning in a sweat as the heating had been left on all night. Then he wondered why our gas bill clocked in at £265.
It was much better with the previous flatmate when we used to play a game called first one to turn the heating on is a pussy.

Birthday Grime

I’m rapidly approaching my 34th birthday. Since being in my thirties I don’t think too much about upcoming birthdays. I used to. When I was in high school I never cared for the month of September. Back to school, the nights drawing in and my birthday just around the corner. Which meant a year closer to being an adult. Being an adult meant acting responsible, and acting responsible didn’t seem too much fun at all.

As a kid I can’t recall ever having any type of party for my birthday. On my 18th I remember going to a grimmy pub in Leytonstone with three mates where the barman made any drink that they told him to give me. I think that the tipping point was a pint of Guinness mixed with Gold Label. Gold label makes Super Tennants seem like a nice cold Red Stripe on a hot summer evening at the end of the working week.
I have no recollection of any other birthdays. Even last years.

But I’ve never been one to celebrate it. Usually I have to be dragged out for a few beers. Only this year it falls on a Saturday. Which means I have to go out anyway as its kind of the Saturday night law. And I guess that people will ask me what I want to do. Well I don’t want to go to the west end or on a pub crawl around Shoreditch or Camden. No I want to go to my local grimmy pub. The pub that gets filled out when a big football match is on but is then almost empty as soon as the final whistle goes because most people don’t want to stay there any longer than need be. But I genuinely like it there. If you want to pull then its no place to go as its not the sort of place that any right minded girl would drink. If you want to eat then its not the place to go. Apparently they do food, I’ve seen a menu on the wall. But the only food I’ve ever seen anyone eat there is bar snacks. If you want a good beer selection then its not the place to be. There’s no strawberry flavoured shit on tap. The toilet floor is never dry and it stinks awful. But it’s a cheep local working class pub with no pretensions and every suburb and town needs a place like that.

34, officially mid thirties, oh well at least if I make it to the beginning of next month then I outlived Jesus.

Gate Crashing Fat Bearded Old Man

Jesus must be well pissed off that Father Christmas is the seasonal face of Christmas and takes over his birthday party every year. I guess that some fat bearded old man in a red and white trimmed jumpsuit with flying reindeer's in tow who delivers Christmas presents to the whole world is just so must more marketable than celebrating the birth of someone born in a stable over two thousand years ago.
Speaking of which - why couldn’t Mary just have the baby in Nazareth? Why did a heavily pregnant woman have to travel to Bethlehem on a donkey? No room at the inn, should of left earlier or made better travel arrangements on your part Joseph.

A bloke at work was telling me that his kid still believes in Father Christmas at age nine.
“I will make sure that it’s the last year he does believe in him, Next year I want the credit,” he said. I agreed.
“If he can’t sleep on Christmas eve tell him then,” I said.
That might sound cruel but age nine and he still believes in Father Christmas, come on.

I found out when I was about six years old. Don’t know how, I guess that I worked out that it was impossible to carry out such a huge job in one night. Kind of how a year or so later I worked out that Noah’s arc was an impossible job that just couldn’t be true. In fact the job of Father Christmas seems more believable than Noah’s and I really should of worked that out first.
When I confronted my dad and asked him if Father Christmas existed he put up no defense for the fat bearded old man. I guess my dad thought it was about time he took the credit.

Every Four Years

Well in a month it will be that time of year when we do that once a year ritual of excessive drinking and eating mixed in with a few family arguments.
The same shitty Christmas songs that there is no escape from have already started..
Certain lines in the Feed The World song have always bugged me like:
“Feed the world do the know it's Christmas time” -unless they’re Christians then I don’t think they care.
“There won’t be snow in Africa this Christmas time” -Good! Hunger and snow is not a good combination.
“Well tonight thank God it’s them instead of you” - Should you really be thanking God for other peoples misery.

I guess most people look forward to Christmas because it’s some time off work, well I hardly get anytime off so that doesn’t apply to me.
I’m sure that I will have a good time over the Christmas period but maybe I would look forward to it more if it was every four years, like the Olympics and the world cup.

Guy Fawkes

Celebrating the downfall of the gunpowder plot with fireworks on November 5th every year is like one day a year people dressing up as a Taliban or IRA member to celebrate the downfall of failed bombings.