...amazed just how long it's been!

Yes it has been awhile hasn't it kids.
So what has been happening in the world of me?
Well, a lot really, so much that I've be daunted by the idea of writing it all down.
Don't by any means, get the idea that my life has changed or that I'm doing better than before.
No, no, nothing big has happened, just lots of little things.
But little things take as much time to type up as bigger events, so as a unnatural-blog-o-naught, it's has become a large obstacle in my mind.
Oh silly me!
Anyway, here's to breaking the block

...just saying I'm not dead...

...I've just been off, busy, broken, ill.

I'll tell you more tomorrow, but I'd thought I'd better give you a preview.
Just in case you stop following me, mom.

...wondering if it's weird...

...that I've put our blood groups/types on our bicycle helmets?

Yes, there are precedents for this, racing car drivers up until the late 80's used to, not only marked on their crash-hats but also wear a waist bracelet with their blood information engraved. Watch the end of Grand Prix with James Garner or about 15minutes in from the start of Steve McQueen's Le Mans and you'll see what I'm getting at.

But is it necessary these days?
Well, maybe not for racing drivers as safety has been raised so high, but for bicyclists on Britain's roads?
Well, yes and no.
Yes because the risk of accident with a car as a bicyclist can be really high on some roads.
No because of two reasons; paramedics, A&E doctors and nurses are trained to ignore non verbal information that can not be substantiated, it might not be the helmet wearer's helmet for example, secondly, they can ignore this notice because the group and cross match tests to determine blood type quickly.

So why do it? Well if there was an accident involving one of us and the other was OK, it acts as a prompt for the medics, saving a bit of time. Also it's cool, especially as my green helmet is meant to look like a military one.

Yes, i'm not to sure either, but at least the information's correct; B+ for SL Bartlett, O+ for me, O W Dawson. Milly Moo, as a cat, doesn't wear a skid-lid but if she did, I'm sure it would say M+. Actually, cat's don't havethe same blood groups as humans or Resis monkeys. Hmm, so maybe.

...filling you in (on the week just gone)

After my weekly meeting with Dr Cohen, I've learnt to judge the start of the week as 11am on Fridays.

So, in my mind, I've just completely missed blogging for a near whole week. And it's not like there's been anything to write about.

Hang on, start again, the grammar and sentence structure of the above was shocking. Plus, it's also a lie. Didn't I review the Wall of Death less than seven days ago?

Hmm. Anyway, it's been one of those weeks....

For a start, S L Bartlett has gone pack to work on placements, this time, on ward something at the RAHospital in Paisley. So the evenings for me are as househusband, running a bath, cooking dinner, loading the dishie and preparing the breakfast for the next day. I've been quite inventive with dinner. I say inventive, I mean inventive for me, as I'm no cook if truth be told. The menu for the last week read: Korma, rice and naans on Monday.Tuesday was breaded haddock, sweetcorn, peas, carrots, runner beans and oven chips. Then breaded chicken breasts, beans, lots of with chips again. On S L's day off, she did the honours with a roast dinner, similar to what I once wrote about, posts ago. Then last night, I made err, a err, what did I make? Of course, Spag-bol served with garlic bread and cheese to flavour. How did I forget that?

Moving away from the kitchen, I also had my second acting lesson. These lessons are only an hour and a half but I do think they're meant to work as snap-shots for the week.
On the first week, I was nervous and somehow managed to be in the right frame of mind. I'll write about this lesson in full later. The second lesson, apart from the group warm up, was reading from a script, in this case, scenes two and three from the Glass Menagerie.
Oh, reading out loud. This is the one thing that could scupper my future as an actor. I never read books as a child, just car magazines, and even then, between paragraphs, I'd look at the glossy images, so it was never sustained reading. More like short bursts and only in my head. Post internet though, reading is second nature. If I can't read to myself now, after more than 10 years of surfing the thingy-sphere, then I don't know. So, reading. Out load can't be that different to quietly; to yourself, right?
No, it's a completely different beast. Two beasts in fact. The added process of voicing the words whilst reading ahead becomes a duo-core process. Luckily, I somehow, without training past the age of eight or nine, can do it. Yes it's not faultless, in truth it's often a complete farce, but in places, I can do it well enough to add the third process in reading as an actor; to live the lines. What cheese I know, but it's a needed level of working. So, yeah, good. I do think I give the impression of an illiterate bumpkin but by the end of the second lesson; after less than three hours, I was acting with a script. A little bit Joey Tribbiani in posture and Grant Mitchell levels of woodenness maybe, but I am holding a script in one hand (and being a tea-pot with the other). There are two things of note however, one good, one bad. Good, in scene three, it is between Tom and his mother (err, Laura, or is that his sister's name), Paul Fortuna, the teach, told us to read in male/female pairs and read the opposite parts first, as in, I read as Mother and the female read Tom. Then swap. It really, really helped me. Hearing what I was meant to say minutes before I was going to read and say it. Like linguaphone for actors. If only I could have done it well for my partner for the lesson. God, I wasn't brilliant help but luckily, she was straight out of school and a Drama Higher. I'm guessing this as we didn't have time to greet before the read-thru. Second, bad, was the more into it I became, the more I couldn't see the script for my shouting. I seem to shake, but hey, I'm getting into it and since when has projecting your voice been a bad thing for actors?

Anyway. I'm proud of myself for going in the first place!
I, on Monday, grew a bloody great big coldsore on my face. On my lip, not as before, coming out of my nose like a perma-bogey. I would have missed it for this alone. Then, with an hour before the lesson, I was really tired, like exhausted. It had been building all week and by Wednesday evening I could barely get up off the sofa. Again, this would have been enough to put me off. Thirdly, traffic was shocking and with S L at work, I was driving myself. Hitting the M8 at a near standstill, I thought, I getting off and going back home. I then thought, sod it, I'll drive as far as I can to the UKTS until 6 and see if I'll be too late to creep in. Fourthly, I had local anaesthetic for a filling and as I had a snack before I left, my face became more dead, more anaesthetised. Gosh, How I'm I going do anything with a stroke-like smile? But in the end, I got there with 10 minutes to spare, even after finding a space to park around the corner, and although I had half eaten my bottom lip, which was a bloody mess and my coldsore looked like a entity in it's own right, I was getting out of my slumber. Maybe it was my driving in rush-hour or maybe it was my drive to get there in the first place. Beyond my usual self-induced panicky reluctance, the want to become more than I am at the moment; go beyond where I am now; to be better!

More maybe I just really want to. You know, be an actor and stuff or summink or nuffing.

It is also of note, I was early for all appointments, lessons and things that week. Getting there early ain't that bad after all!

...wondering about the niceness of suburbia

Has the idyllic but superficial nature of the appeal of the suburban neighbourhood been ruined with the boom in local council's use of the wheelie-bin?
In other words:
Is the wheelie-bin the modern blight on the wafer-thin gloss of suburban aesthetics.

So many Victorian terraces, Barratt-built modern toss and everything before, after and in-between has be compromised by the introduction of the one-size-fits-nothing wheelie-monster.
The idea of Victorian housing, whether terrace, flat or house, was to have the best parts of life showing. The best room; the Sunday-only front room was, well, the front. You sit there in your best clothes, watching everyone else's sitting there in their best, looking back at you. All was well in society and at least  on one day, you knew exactly where you where in the grand scheme of your street. You, in Victorian society, knew where you were in every other aspect of life all the time anyway.
But today, there is no front in the same fake 'all is well' sense. So many houses of the past are now flats, flats are now studios. Fit it in, it's all introverted living anyway.
When you now drive up and down any suburban context in Britain today, it's not the houses that you first see, it's the bins, the masses of bins. Wheelie with many various coloured recycling boxes on top. Don't get me wrong, I recycle like a nut myself. But it's strange how the rubbish now controls the area between the front door and the pavement. What next, we literally do the laundry in the gutter outside, in the street. No, that's just silly, we have machines in the kitchen, integrated and hidden, for washing and drying that lot. No, we, as modern-lifers, seem to be proud of our shit, the waste of our- until quite recently- prosperous lives.

It's really bazaar why it's got like this. But until some bright-light a few years ago thought of the wheelie being the answer to the question no-one asked, the back alley, the back passage, the rear run, was thought to be a thing of un-need. Now, it would be the thing to make the wheelie work without the visual blighting we have at present. The trucks could run up or down them, with the technicians or whatever, working behind. That would work right?

I don't know, I'm asking you!

...sleepy sleep

Yeah, I don't know what it is, or why, but I've been so sleepy this last week.

Shame really, I've wanted to do more writing and I'm full of ideas too, but yeah, I'm shattered.

Maybe it's the cold or the fact that it's been really, really dark here in the Second City of the Empire, but...

...I've struggling to stay awake longer than three hours at a time.

Anyway, I'll eat more veg, maybe that'll do it!

...comparing vacuum cleaners...

...yes, I don't know why either.

But here goes my impression of Which? Magazine...

Today I'll be test driving my iRobot Roomba 560 with Momo's new Dyson DC25AllFloors Ball.

As I looked for my missing Milly Moo in the understairs cupboard, I discovered Momo's new purchase, the new in late 2008 Ball Vacuum by BallBarrow and cyclone, bagless vacuum inventor James Dyson. It's a perfect marriage of his two best creations. A dirty-cyclone-rolling-ball-carpet-&-hardfloor-upright-vacuum-thingy-ma-jiggy.

Only last month, or the month before, before that did I bring my iRobot Roomba 560 fully automated vacuum robot cleaner machine to Momo's to help her out. Since her Skeletal TB has left her with three half eaten vertebra, her surgeon's told her not to hoover, stand on chairs to change light bulbs and generally not do any housework of any type.

So it brings me to this test; a fully automated, schedule-programmed thing from a Japanese 80's video or Dyson's best.

So what's involved? Well, it's a fair test; the same house to be cleaned, with myself cleaning.

First, set up:
I wasn't there when the Dyson arrived but it's instructions to construct it into a functioning vacuum looks like a piece of p*ss on the label still flapping off the neck of the machine. A click here, a click there, done. Then plug the mother in, press the big red button on the neck and off you go, cleaning like a domestic sevant.
The Roomba is just as easy, if not a bit more. There is a dock, plug that into the wall. There are 'walls' you put the fattest of batteries in, sadly not included. Then pull a but of plastic tab from underneath of the actual robot to free it's battery and get it to sit on it's dock. Initially for 16 hours, or until the clean switch on it's centre glows from red, to orange then ideally, green.

Secondly, the first clean:
As for the Dyson, off you go, clean like you mean it. Unless you're a complete clot when clicking it all together, it should just go, sucking up everything in it's way. The first drive is accompanied with the burning smell, so very light of oil and other bits from the factory. It goes by the third or fourth go-round-the-house.
The iRobot has to be set up, you have to but in the day, time first. If you're a VHS-player-phobic, don't worry, it's like setting up a digital alarm clock after a power cut. Then program in the days and times you want you little friend to go around your house. Done. Well, not quite. I would recommend you press clean there and then and follow it, the way you would follow a new servant around when their CV is questionable. Roomba's not a thief but it is a vacuum. It'll suck up any loose gold earrings or other some but important bittibobbies left on the floor. Once you've made you home Roomba friendly, then it's all plain sailing forever on.

Thirdly, living with them longterm:
At the end of the day, the balled Dyson is just like any upright, a bit heavier than Momo's old DC01 and my old Hoover upright. The pivoting ball idea is clever but a tad gimmicky; you have to turn the thing on your wrist and being as heavy as it is to drive around the sofa as it is, you still only go stripy on the floor. Yep, after all that's said and done, it's too heavy to do anything but use it like any no balled machine. Shame really. It's a bit of genius design. The DC25 is a real improvement over the original bagless DC01 of nearly 10 years ago, in the way you empty it. The whole notion of Dyson's design was that his daughter or son or cat or monkey was all allergic to dust and things. Well the cleaning might be so when you're about the house but when it came to emptying the bagless tube, dust would go everywhere, plus you have to touch it's inner yellow cone which will be caked in dusty dust. I can't empty the DC01 because I too, am an 'allergic'. Now though, it's click to release the DC25's tube then another click for the tube's bottom to flap open over a bin or next to one if you're one of those dyspraxics. Then push the bottom closed and click back into the DC25 itself. Easy.
So to the 560 version of the Roomba that's been running about your home for months now. In the price we paid for this addition to the Dawson-Bartlett house, it came with 3 years parts, labour and full replacement warranty. So if like me, you have heard of other people's Roombas dying after a few months, then at least we have 3 years of complete peace of mind. It is also so easy to empty too. It, like the Dyson is bagless. Press a button in the top and pull it's backbox out, tip it's contents into the bin, the filter, included in this box flips out and the fluff just falls away, none of the Dyson DC01's finger rubbing either. If you want to be a complete Monica Gellar about it, you can turn the 560 over and press a pair buttons to release to the two brushes to de-tangle your hair from them. Only do it monthly as per instructions if you're more Rachel Green about the home, then you're in keeping with the warranty too. I'm a bit too Monica and do it everyday, same with emptying the back box.

Fourthly, cost:
At £300, including the warranty, the Roomba's not cheap, but I've also heard of Dysons dying or burning out too. They, in the price include a 5 year parts and labour guaranty. So at £290 for the basic DC25AllFloors, it wins on price and err, reassurance. But they both lose compared to any other vacuum cleaners; Hoovers start at £90 for a bagless upright. £60 if you shout. But the Dyson is a rounded bit of kit, pun not intended. It is solid, really well put together. Hard wearing and solid, like an 80's Merc saloon.
The iRobot is well made like a new Merc; built to a cost but it is designed to be easy to completely take apart and it's so stupidly simple too. Only a micro computer makes it more complicated then a hair-dryer. Don't take it apart though. Unless your qualified and certificated by the manufacturer to do so.

Fifthly, so which is best?
The iRobot Roomba 560 silly!
Apart from the initial follow about and Roomba proofing of your home, it's a doddle. Yes you have to pick it to take it upstairs (like every other vacuum) but it's only 1.5Kg unlike the Dyson, which is nearly 5.9Kg. Plus the Roomba won't fall back down them, it's clever.
But think about it; the Dyson or any other cleaner is like you're doing the housework, the Roomba is like you're Wooster from the 30's. Why do it when you have a servant to do it.
Simple.

Sixthly, the links:
iRobot Roomba 560
Dyson DC25

if you have domestic help, or are the domestic help....

....tell me I'm wrong below, in the comments box.

...telling you I'll catch up

Really, whilst S L is revising like a trooper, I'll fill you all in (all 2 of you) on what's been happening in what feels like the shortest of the year. December's definitely the quickest. Am I right, am I right, ladies and gentlemen?

...trying to remember something...

...no, it's gone.

Don't you just hate that!

...impressed with Comet's customer service...

...no, really. Seriously.

I'm not too sure why, but my nan and aunty really don't like Comet, the electrical store. I think it was based on a bad experience when a fridge or microwave or kettle blew up after a day.

I'm all for family solidarity and brand snubbing but their prices on some things are just too good to be all 'sod them and their crappy customer service' especially because my eyes are larger than my wallet.

The item I'm after is a Sony netbook, a vpc w11 s1e in white. It's the normal netbook fare, review straight after this post. At Comet, the white one is £279.99 with free delivery or pick-up instore. Normally, this little 'puter come's in at £349.99 and in some places, the SonyStore & SonyStyle.co.uk it's at £365.99.

So come on, it's a brilliant price right?
Yes it is, and to show it is, the ultra cool brown version at Comet is a web only £339.99, so the macbookpro-esque white will more than do.

The catch...
well, when I got it home, plugged it in and got going, nothing, well, nothing big. The normal cycle of software updates and restarts. But once that was all done, nothing...

...then I pulled the plug. Instant death. But it's been on charge for ages!
No it hasn't, there's no battery. Rummage around the tiny box, nope, nothing there.
Shit.
In the box however, I did find a picture of the battery on a Sony leaflet labelled accessories. Hmm, maybe it doesn't come with one. No, that'll be stupid...

So, off to Comet again, let's kick some arse/ass.

'was it sealed sir?'
'Sony weigh the boxes before they leave the factory, to see that there's nothing missing'
'are you sure you haven't lost it sir?'
oh, this isn't going well. It's like making a pact with the school bully and then asking him/her for your share of the dinner money. Or like how in 10 years time when the UK asks the US for it's half of Iraq's oil. You know you shouldn't have done the deal, but the price looked so good.
'well, you'll have to come back tomorrow, the manager's not in today.'
'are you sure you haven't lost it down the sofa?'
'the box would 'ave been sealed you know'
yes thanks for that mate. hmm, so Comet really are crap.

Next day, popped back in just before rush hour. Luckily Comet's about 5 minutes away.
I was like this to them: 'can I speak to the manager, it's about my computer not having a battery!'
They were like this to me: 'ok, I'll just get her.'
Right, I thought, let the battle commence...
The manager came out and was like this: 'would a new battery be ok?'
'errr, yeah, that'll be fine.'
'could someone get this customer a new battery from either another Sony or from the display's box...
...would that be ok sir?'
'no, that'll be brilliant, thanks, yeah' what an idiot I thought, 'no, err, yeah?' what am I 13 again.

So in summary, stand up straight, dress smart, feel confident and be ready to shout. Then, be polite but stand your ground. They'll be all shit because they either don't really care or they're just flushing out the chancers. If you have to come back, fine, but be ready to not go away again; clear your diary.
Then, from your kick arse/ass persona, they'll not mess with you.

Either that or ask to see the manager the first time round. And to think, for a second, I thought netbook's didn't come with batteries, what a clot!

...recovering from a case of Roland Emmerich

I've just returned from seeing 2012

When I heard about the film, and even after I saw the terrible trailer, I really wanted to see 2012.
No one else I asked was that impressed or that bothered about it.

I loved 'The Day After, Tomorrow, Day', or whatever it was called. No, really, I thought it was a good yarn.

Even 'Independence Day' was a good bit of fluff too. Not as good as 'The Day After...' but what is?

So, yeah, I was actually excited to see 2012.....

.....but what a load of shit!
Really, it's the worst piece of contradictory, anti-humanity, Sony Vaio, Seal of the President, US flag waving nonsense. Ever in the history of completely shit films. Ever
And 3 hours of it as well, who the hell was the editor? Roland's mother?

Right, where to start this bashing?

• John Cusack's character is a deadbeat-dad, who just happens to be the tardy chaffeur to one of the richest men in the world, and in a 2 year old stretched Lincoln, really?
• His ex-wife's new husband is a plastic surgeon in Hollywood, yet only drives a Porsche Caymen. He must be the crappest surgeon in LA, by far
• All the 'best' people worth saving, are old, like the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh, and on the American ship, 10 men to every women, really?
• The moral to come out of the film, well, the main one I picked up, don't be a good guy, you die and no-one really cares, look what happened to Gordon, or the chess playing Indian kid and his parents, Sacha, the sexy Antonov pilot, that blond Paris Hilton lookalike, Woody Harrelson, the President. Yet mofos like Oliver Platt's character, the rich twins, deadbeat John Cusack, many other mofos besides are aboard the ship, and thus survive the end of the world.
• It's not his Bentley, but that Russian Oligarch could start it using is voice. Can anyone start a Bentley just by mumbling 'engine start' in a very deep voice?
• You can take off from anything if you say 'there's just not enough runway' even if you're not at the needed speed for lift.
• Stretched Lincoln limos can snap their chassis you know, Roland. They're not the best built cars even before they've been extended (by some chop-shop in an industrial unit just off the main street, in some 'city' in Southern California).
• Roland, stop and count how many times you plug John Cusack's character's book, it got really tedious. Actually, I got up to go to the toilet 3/4s the way though, not because I needed too but because the whole film was getting tedious, really tedious.
• Also, the overhead shot of the limo escaping the suburbs, I thought special effects had movedon since Streetfighter2, the video game, on the Amiga.

So all in all, yeah it was not as good as 'The Day After' and still not as good as staying in and watching cheese turn to mould.

That concludes my review of 2012.

Next week, I'll be watching Robert Downey Jr as Sherlock Holmes, wow, how good was his English accent, he's going down in history with the likes of Depp, Van Dyck and Joe Swash as the most twatiest cockney this side of err, Jude Law?

...having a day off.

I'm not that lively.
I haven't been for a few days.
I get like this now and then.
I'm not too sure why it happens
It's like for every 14 days, I've only have enough energy for 12.
I slow down for about 4 days,
I then have to have at least 1 full day to recover.
I think it's like jet lag
I can't think of any other way to describe it.
I'll be right as rain tomorrow
I'll be busy and productive
I'm going to watch a DVD or
I might go with SL to see a film
I think there's about 3 I'd like to see

...starting to get the point of blogs...

...no, not at all.

No, well, I get that you don't have to follow me (my blog) to read it, so I'm slowly realising that I'm not the only one reading it. Also, I'm getting that this is a nice way to carry on conversions I've had with others about things and 'what I'm doing with my ever shortening life'.

Anyway.

So yeah, Ive told too many people now that I want to act. Yes a few have raised eyebrows and looked at me like I've just told them I've become a Tory candidate but I'm going to do it.

You understand it's more than the fame, right?
It's all about the money. Like a less invasive version of prostitution.
No, it's not about the fortunes that Brad and the Clooney have, well a bit, no, it's more just an ability to earn the most out of my limited skills set.

No, it's not that bleak, really, not completely.
I want to act because I still don't really know how to live in and use my body, face and voice.
It's also the fact that I've not been firing on all cylinders for the past 16* years now and have only just started, in the last 2, to get back to a real sense of myself and my full potential.
I want to really enjoy crafting myself into characters and situations where my potential can be seen. I'm not going to completely give up on Architecture, but I do want to chase something that pushes the daydreamer in me.
I already imagine I play professional football (knowing that I'm not that good at it)
I know I'm something for a fall (you know, that saying) but it's what I wanted to do, 16* years ago, and was quite good then.

The way I see it, I've not really lived fully for about 16* years. Yes I've gotten older, learnt things (not grammar) and have been physically there but as S L would say, I've been missing.
At times I've been at full, err, power? but it's not been sustained or without lots of caffeine and prescription medication. At the moment, I've cut the reliance on caffeine, hence the ability to sleep 23 hours a day, but I'm finally getting the right treatment to help me out of this 16* year lull.




(* is an estimation from a report by some doctor who asked me questions one time when things were very dark.)

...going to:

blog something worthwhile or just something, anything,
phone Momo & Lalas,
go to see Public Enemies,
have a cooling bath,
recycle cardboard
&
go to bed at a reasonable hour....

(oh and sky+ the Mentalist, nearly forgot that one)