Journal

H’away the lad!

Former college classmate Robert Boyle has his stag do this weekend in Newcastle. I was once told that Newcastle has a higher divorce rate than any other city in the UK. Make of that what you will, it’s probably not a fact.

Supposing it is true, though, Robert has a phenomenally high chance of being tempted on his final blow out as a single man due to the higher density of single (albeit divorced) ladies to hand. Sadly financial embarrasment (i.e. just buying the car) prevents me from making the trip up to join him on what will undoubtedly be a weekend of wreckless alcohol abuse. However, I hope all goes well for him and his clan of very merry men.

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Journal

Yay!

Got my content filter sorted the other night. Checked it today and it works just fine. Pleased with that, although it doesn’t keep the thought police from having a peek at my rants from elsewhere, it does at least clean up my act from the point of access most likely to be used.

I was thinking of a cutesy bypass system for those I feel comfortable with (you know – click on the discrete Pi symbol kinda thing… worked for Sandra Bullock!). For the time being I’ll just see how the current method floats. Partly I’m dying to say something dead controversial just for the smirk factor of the thought police being blinkered, but I’ll just keep that as a fantasy for the time being ;o)

Of course, if you’re reading this you’re not going to notice I’ve done anything because you have access all areas!

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Flashback

An Itchy Trigger Finger

Time had slowed to the point where a bird flying nearby seemed suspended in mid air and the sound of the nearby traffic became a low pitched drone. Those few seconds are etched in my minds eye in a way that is so vivid I can almost move the scene around in bullet time – a technique which would become a firm favorite of movie directors some fifteen years later in depicting action scenes and stand-off’s not dissimilar to this one.

My thoughts, although racing, were amazingly clear at the time. I can still hear my heart beat quicken as I made the decision and reached the point of no return – if you’re going to pull a gun on someone you cant exactly change your mind and put it back again. Even after that point, amid the panic and the shouting, even with the instant realization that I’d done the wrong thing, my thoughts were coherent.

“Holey shit was this a mistake.” I said to myself as the two boys, both three years older than myself, backed away holding up their hands. Their faces, I’ll never forget, were masks of disbelief and surprize, with a hint of shock thrown in at how the tables had turned so quickly.

Heck, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t enjoyed the short power trip. Only moments before these two hard men had pounced on my younger friend and I – told us that we were trespassing and that we had to follow them to the office where they would call the police. We had been playing on an abandoned barge which was rusting away to nothing on the boundaries of a yard belonging to a small boat building and maintaining firm. The 16 or 17 year old boys claimed their father owned the boat building yard and that we were in serious trouble for being on the barge.

I suggested we leave – that we would go and not ever come near the barge again. The two boys had smirked and said “No – you’re in deep shit, you’re coming with us.” with the kind of grin that let us know they were savoring every moment of our panic.

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