The week so far

I have caught the mouse, the mouse is no more, the mouse is deceased. The mouse had a spring loaded trap whack it across the nose leaving its eyes sticking out on their storks. R.I.P Bojangles.

I have considered the family he may have left behind, but the fact remains that you don't invade my house.

However this mouse did have some brains (as the trap clearly proved). Based on its position at point of death is appeared to have tried to lean forward and lift the bread from the trap. Hence the trap had only just managed to catch it by the snout. What Bojangles was unaware of though was my clearly superior intelligence. I had coated the underside of the bread with honey. This meant that the offering was harder to lift from the death trap.

In your face Mr Mouse. No mouse is a match for me. I will win. I have won. I have been victorious.

I have placed another trap to catch his wife but as of yet she has made no appearance. I can only hope he was a bachelor.

I went to play snooker today with Choo Choo 'the gloves' Griff. We arrived at Potters and climbed the three flights of stairs to get to the venue. Twenty five minutes later I had recovered from serious lack of oxygen. Head finally clearing and heartbeat now below 180 bpm I attempted to book a table.

"Hi.... Can....We....hang on a sec......(heavy breathing while adopting the I have stitch position)... could we.....snooker.....there". She seemed to understand what I was requesting and handed a set of balls over. She then made a tragic mistake. She mentioned the election. Now I thought I could rant on about this subject. But enter the new pretender, Choo Choo. During this discussion as I will call it, the price of bread went up 7% and the election could could have actually started and finished. He has views. Fortunately for him, I generally share similar views. So I nodded in agreement where as the truth was I was worrying about he possible onset of angina and was attempting to take my pulse, convinced I was missing beats. It's funny how when you get older a simple lack of breath can make you consider the worse.

                             Paul's attempts to put me off

This reminds me of a similar episode a few years ago and proves how you have to be careful about what you watch on TV. I was watching an episode of casualty where a Dr was in the shower and he dropped the soap. You obviously knew this wasn't just dropping the soap because that sinister music accompanied the event. Now we have all dropped the soap in the shower at some point or another. Well in Casualty this week it turned out this guy had Multiple Sclerosis and this ability to grip soap or not as in this case was apparently the give away.

The next day I have climbed in the shower and I lifted the soap from the dish. It slipped from my grasp and I picked it up, smiling to myself that this was what the guy the previous evening had done. I picked it up and it slipped straight out again. I laughed to myself thinking how buggered I would be in prison. (possibly in more than one way). My laugh this time was slightly nervous. I was taking no more chances. I lent precariously out of the shower and dried my hands on the towel. Then bent over to pick up the soap and did one of those shower farts as my arse pushed outwards. They are the best. Uncontrollable and bubbly. I grabbed the soap, firmly and with purpose. This little bastard was staying firmly in my hands, I was not going to have the disease that the guy in Casualty had contracted. Then to my horror I felt it slipping, I rushed in with my other hand and tried to retrieve it. All this happening in slow motion. A dolly zoom moment in real life. The added squeeze made it lift upwards out of my hand and I made a grab with the other hand, for one nanosecond I had it, left handed. Then it was gone. I lurched forward and lost my footing and landed on my arse. Legs in the air and the shower pelting my face. The soap landed on my head. I must be dying I though. I saw it on the telly and now I cant even grip soap. Then you google MS and heaven forbid you end on Wikipedia. If you do, it's all over.

I ordered soap on a rope from Avon that very week.

The moral here is that I do not have MS but watching too much television or testing every ache with google Dr, can play havoc with your sense of reason. Like the time I had a headache and my mother in law told me it could be a brain tumour as she had read it in 'Family Friend'.

Back to the snooker. It took us over two hours to play three games. I am crap and Paul was crapper. His problem was quite simple. He is by all accounts, blind when looking over his glasses. The highest break was by me and it was ten. We fouled about 34 times each over the three games. But we will do it again. Paul is my type of player, i.e. Rubbish. You know all snooker players have names like the rocket and the hurricane. We have ours. Paul shit Griff and I am his tag team partner Bri LOL your so crap Lee.

And finally I have two assessment centres to attend next week. Fingers crossed they will be better than the last one. I will blog the outcomes very soon.