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- Mar 5, 2002
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Alright then what's occuring in the wonderful, wacky and wild world of Sir Flops, the fourth earl of Floppington Manor, Little Wallop, Wessex?
Looks like the work at Bethnal Green I mentioned in last post may not be on, building/demolition contractor done his best to rack my brains on system and probably succeeded to a degree. The school had recommended me to this company cos I've always looked after their system but they free to go where they like. I haven't heard from them in 2 weeks. Drat.
Still, done a little bit last week, two small jobs, so bills paid til end of August but nothing spare for toys.
On the games front I've been immersed in Dead Space One, picked it up cheap (£3 I think, certainly not more than a fiver) a while back but controls were rubbish so gave up. Discovered that if you enable vsync in the Nvidia Control Panel it runs perfectly.
Very immersing and often frightening game, I'm now almost finished level ten out of twelve levels.
I'll then play Dead Space Two which I also picked up cheapish, about £15 as I recall.
Also paid £3 for Red Alert Three Command and whilst it does look good I think I may have gone off that style of gaming, seems a bit finicky to me at first try, lots to remember, slow-moving and if past titles and original Starcraft are anything to go by, possibly quite difficult.
Last week I was messing about doing stuff with my patio container open where I keep tools and paint. Whilst removing something a 19" rackmount battery charger slipped and fell and the corner hit a large can of black spray paint, probably about three quarters full.
The corner of the charger punctured the can, there was a mighty bang, a long hissing, rushing sound and I jumped out of my skin. When I looked down there was black paint just about everywhere, on the doors of the container, over all the other containers of paint, across two paving stones and other stuff too. My right arm was now two tone with a long streak of black and my face resembled a leopard's with, oddly enough, one eyebrow sprayed perfectly black, surrounding area untouched.
Lucky really, couldda gone in me mince pies. But it didn't. I've cleaned most things up except the paving stones but I still have a black eyebrow. Fek, as they say.
Those of you who remember Crianz's tales of woe and destruction and folly may spot a kindred spirit in me when I relate this next tale. You will recall our Antipodean female friend was oft to be found at a New Zealand hospital A & E department after the most unlikely accidents. I found myself in A & E on Monday morning.
Twas about 1.30am Sunday evening/Monday morning and I had imbibed a few cans of draught Guinness and perhaps half a bottle of red wine earlier. I had fallen asleep at the 'puter and got up to stagger to bed. I felt tired and woozy.
When I walked in the karzi just before turning in, I can't really remember what happened but I do know I slipped and/or fell and the back of my head struck something in the bathroom, not sure what but I'm guessing the side of the bath.
I can remember lying on the floor groaning and seeing pools of blood on the floor. I may have passed out for a while, I don't know.
I mopped up the blood from my head with a towel, it didn't seem to be bleeding so I went to bed. It did hurt a lot, I remember that.
In the morning my pillow was covered with blood and the cut I had was still bleeding a little, not pouring out but still moist, the surface wasn't congealing. I had a shower to get the matted blood out of my hair and it hurt like hell. So I thought I best get to the hospital. Thought I better not drive so I took a bus.
Got there 11am exactly was told downtime 'just over an hour'. I was seen at 12:40 by a chinese doctor who introduced himself as Mr Wen. He asked me a gazillion questions about how I came by the injury and when it happened. As I unfolded my tale I realised how unlikly it sounded and I got the distinct impression he thought I'd received the injury by fighting.
So he proceeded to clean it up with antiseptic and stuff and it really really hurt. I said words like 'Ouch' but he took no heed.
I said 'Is it going to need stitches?'
'Yes' replied Dr Wen
'Will you be giving me an anaesthetic when you put the stitches in?'
'Yes'
'Any chance you could do that now then I won't feel this cleaning up'
He looked disappointed I swear but he did so anyway, five injections and none of them painless.
If I didn't know better he'd made a judgement on me that I was the fighting type and he was trying to discourage me from rucking by making this experience painful. I could be wrong of course but who knows? Perhaps the cropped hair, Doc Martens and Levis Jean Jacket didn't help.
So, he cleaned me up, didn't need a Tetanus as I had one 3 years ago and put eight stitches in my 6cm cut. He said it was deep as well.
He also put a big bandage round my head so I looked like one of those walking wounded on some newsreel footage. I put my black woolly hat on for the bus ride home and when I took it off, the bandage came off as well. I couldn't honestly see what purpose it served anyway, unless Dr Wen wanted to make me look a pillock as more punishment for his imagined fisticuffs. Little does he know last fight I had, last proper fight, was in 1985.
I was tempted at one stage to say 'Wen does it end Wen?' but I didn't.
He warned me I might suffer some concussion effects and I thought to myself 'Ha! No I won't'. But I did. That afternoon and evening I felt disoriented, a little shivery and mildly nauseous. I didn't drink alcohol in the evening but wasn't tired so didn't go to bed until 3am-ish.
Woke up today feeling great and head hardly hurting at all now. Various items of clothing and bedding placed in buckets of salt water prior to washing in new fangled washing machine.
What worries me now is I have very little recollection of how it happened. What caused me to fall? Too much booze? Three cans of beer and two glasses of wine is a lot less than I sometimes knock back so is it age conspiring to weaken me? Or did I just get tired and woozy and stumble?
My daughter suggested I may have had a mild stroke and collapsed which is kinda scary but I did suffer from heart failure (one valve beat irregularly for a while in 2002 whilst I was under a great deal of stress but it's been ok since) so I guess it's a possibility. But I think surely I would have had pains or some symptoms prior to a stroke? Maybe not. Like I said, scary.
I just went shopping for a few things and wearing a black woolly hat in sunny weather looks odd but it's better than displaying the back of my barnet right now, the hair is still caked in dark black dried blood.
Who said bad things come in threes? Shut up!
Have been booked to play the sounds at my niece's 18th Birthday on the 30th July, it's a surprise party for her. It will be a surprise when she realises a 60 year old geezer is playing the dance music for her, lol
But her sister was the one who booked me, she's about 25, and they've both been to loads of do's where I've played the music, so should be ok. Now all I gotta do is get up to par with latest chart stuff.
Her name is Megan and I think she'll be the last of my nieces and nephews to turn 18.
And that'll do for now, until the next thrilling instalment, I bid you all a fond adieu. I'll leave you with a pic.
Here's Megan a coupla years ago:
Looks like the work at Bethnal Green I mentioned in last post may not be on, building/demolition contractor done his best to rack my brains on system and probably succeeded to a degree. The school had recommended me to this company cos I've always looked after their system but they free to go where they like. I haven't heard from them in 2 weeks. Drat.
Still, done a little bit last week, two small jobs, so bills paid til end of August but nothing spare for toys.
On the games front I've been immersed in Dead Space One, picked it up cheap (£3 I think, certainly not more than a fiver) a while back but controls were rubbish so gave up. Discovered that if you enable vsync in the Nvidia Control Panel it runs perfectly.
Very immersing and often frightening game, I'm now almost finished level ten out of twelve levels.
I'll then play Dead Space Two which I also picked up cheapish, about £15 as I recall.
Also paid £3 for Red Alert Three Command and whilst it does look good I think I may have gone off that style of gaming, seems a bit finicky to me at first try, lots to remember, slow-moving and if past titles and original Starcraft are anything to go by, possibly quite difficult.
Last week I was messing about doing stuff with my patio container open where I keep tools and paint. Whilst removing something a 19" rackmount battery charger slipped and fell and the corner hit a large can of black spray paint, probably about three quarters full.
The corner of the charger punctured the can, there was a mighty bang, a long hissing, rushing sound and I jumped out of my skin. When I looked down there was black paint just about everywhere, on the doors of the container, over all the other containers of paint, across two paving stones and other stuff too. My right arm was now two tone with a long streak of black and my face resembled a leopard's with, oddly enough, one eyebrow sprayed perfectly black, surrounding area untouched.
Lucky really, couldda gone in me mince pies. But it didn't. I've cleaned most things up except the paving stones but I still have a black eyebrow. Fek, as they say.
Those of you who remember Crianz's tales of woe and destruction and folly may spot a kindred spirit in me when I relate this next tale. You will recall our Antipodean female friend was oft to be found at a New Zealand hospital A & E department after the most unlikely accidents. I found myself in A & E on Monday morning.
Twas about 1.30am Sunday evening/Monday morning and I had imbibed a few cans of draught Guinness and perhaps half a bottle of red wine earlier. I had fallen asleep at the 'puter and got up to stagger to bed. I felt tired and woozy.
When I walked in the karzi just before turning in, I can't really remember what happened but I do know I slipped and/or fell and the back of my head struck something in the bathroom, not sure what but I'm guessing the side of the bath.
I can remember lying on the floor groaning and seeing pools of blood on the floor. I may have passed out for a while, I don't know.
I mopped up the blood from my head with a towel, it didn't seem to be bleeding so I went to bed. It did hurt a lot, I remember that.
In the morning my pillow was covered with blood and the cut I had was still bleeding a little, not pouring out but still moist, the surface wasn't congealing. I had a shower to get the matted blood out of my hair and it hurt like hell. So I thought I best get to the hospital. Thought I better not drive so I took a bus.
Got there 11am exactly was told downtime 'just over an hour'. I was seen at 12:40 by a chinese doctor who introduced himself as Mr Wen. He asked me a gazillion questions about how I came by the injury and when it happened. As I unfolded my tale I realised how unlikly it sounded and I got the distinct impression he thought I'd received the injury by fighting.
So he proceeded to clean it up with antiseptic and stuff and it really really hurt. I said words like 'Ouch' but he took no heed.
I said 'Is it going to need stitches?'
'Yes' replied Dr Wen
'Will you be giving me an anaesthetic when you put the stitches in?'
'Yes'
'Any chance you could do that now then I won't feel this cleaning up'
He looked disappointed I swear but he did so anyway, five injections and none of them painless.
If I didn't know better he'd made a judgement on me that I was the fighting type and he was trying to discourage me from rucking by making this experience painful. I could be wrong of course but who knows? Perhaps the cropped hair, Doc Martens and Levis Jean Jacket didn't help.
So, he cleaned me up, didn't need a Tetanus as I had one 3 years ago and put eight stitches in my 6cm cut. He said it was deep as well.
He also put a big bandage round my head so I looked like one of those walking wounded on some newsreel footage. I put my black woolly hat on for the bus ride home and when I took it off, the bandage came off as well. I couldn't honestly see what purpose it served anyway, unless Dr Wen wanted to make me look a pillock as more punishment for his imagined fisticuffs. Little does he know last fight I had, last proper fight, was in 1985.
I was tempted at one stage to say 'Wen does it end Wen?' but I didn't.
He warned me I might suffer some concussion effects and I thought to myself 'Ha! No I won't'. But I did. That afternoon and evening I felt disoriented, a little shivery and mildly nauseous. I didn't drink alcohol in the evening but wasn't tired so didn't go to bed until 3am-ish.
Woke up today feeling great and head hardly hurting at all now. Various items of clothing and bedding placed in buckets of salt water prior to washing in new fangled washing machine.
What worries me now is I have very little recollection of how it happened. What caused me to fall? Too much booze? Three cans of beer and two glasses of wine is a lot less than I sometimes knock back so is it age conspiring to weaken me? Or did I just get tired and woozy and stumble?
My daughter suggested I may have had a mild stroke and collapsed which is kinda scary but I did suffer from heart failure (one valve beat irregularly for a while in 2002 whilst I was under a great deal of stress but it's been ok since) so I guess it's a possibility. But I think surely I would have had pains or some symptoms prior to a stroke? Maybe not. Like I said, scary.
I just went shopping for a few things and wearing a black woolly hat in sunny weather looks odd but it's better than displaying the back of my barnet right now, the hair is still caked in dark black dried blood.
Who said bad things come in threes? Shut up!
Have been booked to play the sounds at my niece's 18th Birthday on the 30th July, it's a surprise party for her. It will be a surprise when she realises a 60 year old geezer is playing the dance music for her, lol
But her sister was the one who booked me, she's about 25, and they've both been to loads of do's where I've played the music, so should be ok. Now all I gotta do is get up to par with latest chart stuff.
Her name is Megan and I think she'll be the last of my nieces and nephews to turn 18.
And that'll do for now, until the next thrilling instalment, I bid you all a fond adieu. I'll leave you with a pic.
Here's Megan a coupla years ago:
..sorry..
