Right, I think I've just about recovered from my weekend of helping someone move hosue. I don't mind if I'm still feeling spectacularly craptacular on a Tuesday if it is because I've been out debauching, misbehaving and pouring a few litres of controlled poison down my neck. In that scenario I do a little dance of joy and sing the praises to the alcohol gods. Unlike many, I accept hangovers as part of the fun. If going on 60 hour benders was easy then every sod would be doing it. No no, hangovers are some deity's way of making sure that only the strong go on such manic drinking sprees.
Sure, you get the weekend warriors who think it is hardcore to go out on Friday AND Saturday night. Don't get me wrong, it is commendable. The drinking of the beer is a highly respectable phenomenon and should be done as often as possible. Students too are good at this, as are estate agents and recruitment consultants. Those are pastimes that seem to be fuelled by booze.
I myself cannot deny that I enjoy a hearty drink from time to time. Although life as a freelancer often means that invoicing levels are directly related to my blood alcohol one, when the bills are paid drinking is one of my favourite hobbies. That and my aquarium.
Actually, though, when you think about it drinking pretty much defies logic. Back in the dark, distant and dingy past of a few years ago when I was still being given some form of an education, one of the classes I took was Psychology. It was actually pretty good fun. I nearly did it at Uni, but then realised the thought of spending another 5 years in education both bored and terrified me. Being a writer that lives month to month is much more rewarding.
Our Psych teacher was actually pretty cool for, you know, a teacher. Not only did Dr. B know her stuff, she also knew how to deal with a bunch of 18 year olds. Sometimes she would do little friendly experiments on us when we got a bit know-it-all, whenever a phone went off she would over analyse the ring tone and we would get onto some terrific tangents. One day, thanks to a big social event the night before, literally her entire class was hung over. How any of us had even made it into college was a mystery. Dr. B tried valiantly to teach us the lesson plan but it was to no avail. We were just counting down the time until the bell so we could head into town for some grease.
In the end we started talking about drinking, which made most of us wretch thoroughly. Who on earth would want to think about drinking in the grips of an almighty hangover? Then she told us something quite interesting. I still find it interesting. I will now tell you, and hopefully you will find it interesting.
Drinking so much alcohol that you fall down wetting yourself in a doorway before eating a Spaniel kebab from a hairy little man and falling asleep on the stairs pretty much defies logic and psychological theory. In theory, after your first hangover you should not want to drink again. We all know about the reinforcement theory of how people learn behaviour – if it is positive, you do it again where as if it is negative you don't. Well, as anyone can tell you, being hungover is most definitely a negative. Yet people still do it. I suppose you could argue that the amount of fun you have before the hangover begins outweighs the hangover itself, but frankly when you are that drunk you've blacked out for most of the fun times and just have a searing headache and wobbly bowels.
Yet people still go drinking anyway. I just find that interesting. Now, anyone fancy a pint?
Tuesday, 15 December 2009
Sunday, 13 December 2009
Blow by Blow of a crap weekend...
Friday
11:00 – Wake up with hangover
12:00 – Make it downstairs, attempt to work
16:30 – Give up for a bit, try to beat brain into action. Order Pizza
17:00 – Think you finish working for a short Friday. Eat Pizza.
18:00 – Realise you have another job to do. Get indigestion.
20:00 – Finally finish working, start driving to Cambridgeshire
22:00 – Realise the E14 is closed, do 4 junction detour back down the M11
23:30 – Finally get back on track
23:45 – Get pulled over for speeding. Although not getting ticket, get mocked by hot policewoman for not having a criminal record.
00:00 – Finally reach destination.
02:00 – Bed. Sleep.
Saturday
05:00 – Get woken up and get into van.
06:30 – Stop at service station for chocolate and Ribena. Buy copy of The Sun as, frankly, a white van has to have one.
08:15 – Get to flat. Start moving lots of heavy things downstairs out and in to van.
11:00 – Finally finish. Start drive to new flat location.
12:30 – Get to new flat location. Find out that we got there before the person who we are helping move because they stopped for lunch.
13:00 – Person who was the most hated in the world redeems themselves by bringing sausage rolls and cakes.
13:30 – Start unloading truck full off stuff. Double the stairs as before and a time deadline.
14:30 – Work at full pace non stop for an hour. Rain starts.
15:30 – Finally finish dumping boxes, furniture and other miscellaneous crap in flat. No time to hang around as van has to get back
16:45 – After mad dash, get van back
17:00 – Think day is done. No chance, get phone call saying shopping must be done.
17:30 – Finish getting shopping. Finally head back to house.
20:00 – After getting back, find that toddler needs looking after. Play with energetic infant for few hours.
21:30 – Dinner. Nice.
23:00 – Finally pass out through exhaustion.
Sunday
10:00 – Wake up but steadfast refuse to get up before 11am
11:00 – Get up.
11:05 – Get burdened with energetic toddler again.
12:15 – Start driving back home towards London.
13:45 – Get stuck in M25 traffic.
14:00 – Get stuck in M25 traffic.
15:00 -– Get stuck in M25 traffic.
16:00 -– Get stuck in M25 traffic.
17:00 – Get stuck in M25 traffic.
18:00 – Make it home! Realise that Monday morning deadline jobs need to be done. Consider working.
18:20 – Post unfunny blog post
11:00 – Wake up with hangover
12:00 – Make it downstairs, attempt to work
16:30 – Give up for a bit, try to beat brain into action. Order Pizza
17:00 – Think you finish working for a short Friday. Eat Pizza.
18:00 – Realise you have another job to do. Get indigestion.
20:00 – Finally finish working, start driving to Cambridgeshire
22:00 – Realise the E14 is closed, do 4 junction detour back down the M11
23:30 – Finally get back on track
23:45 – Get pulled over for speeding. Although not getting ticket, get mocked by hot policewoman for not having a criminal record.
00:00 – Finally reach destination.
02:00 – Bed. Sleep.
Saturday
05:00 – Get woken up and get into van.
06:30 – Stop at service station for chocolate and Ribena. Buy copy of The Sun as, frankly, a white van has to have one.
08:15 – Get to flat. Start moving lots of heavy things downstairs out and in to van.
11:00 – Finally finish. Start drive to new flat location.
12:30 – Get to new flat location. Find out that we got there before the person who we are helping move because they stopped for lunch.
13:00 – Person who was the most hated in the world redeems themselves by bringing sausage rolls and cakes.
13:30 – Start unloading truck full off stuff. Double the stairs as before and a time deadline.
14:30 – Work at full pace non stop for an hour. Rain starts.
15:30 – Finally finish dumping boxes, furniture and other miscellaneous crap in flat. No time to hang around as van has to get back
16:45 – After mad dash, get van back
17:00 – Think day is done. No chance, get phone call saying shopping must be done.
17:30 – Finish getting shopping. Finally head back to house.
20:00 – After getting back, find that toddler needs looking after. Play with energetic infant for few hours.
21:30 – Dinner. Nice.
23:00 – Finally pass out through exhaustion.
Sunday
10:00 – Wake up but steadfast refuse to get up before 11am
11:00 – Get up.
11:05 – Get burdened with energetic toddler again.
12:15 – Start driving back home towards London.
13:45 – Get stuck in M25 traffic.
14:00 – Get stuck in M25 traffic.
15:00 -– Get stuck in M25 traffic.
16:00 -– Get stuck in M25 traffic.
17:00 – Get stuck in M25 traffic.
18:00 – Make it home! Realise that Monday morning deadline jobs need to be done. Consider working.
18:20 – Post unfunny blog post
Thursday, 10 December 2009
A peek at a prologue
As I continue to find myself in the grips of actual, real paid work, I have no original content. Please consider this exclusive peek at the prologue of the book I'm currently working on as a settlemet.
Prologue: Also known as 'How The Earth Went South'
When planet Earth decided to blow itself up in a haze of nuclear inspired glory, it wasn't considered as terrible an incident as one would think. Let's face facts, by the point that the twenty fourth century came around Earth was a bit of a dump. As more and more people had emigrated off to live out their dreams on the frontiers of space, those who were left behind were little more than the dregs of society.
And the dregs gave an admirable effort in the running of the planet. Initially, a few major players in the whole global politics and business scene stayed behind. They said they would never give up their beloved home world for the cold, dark horribleness of space. Their children, however, often had a different point of view and as the older generations of Earth loving folk died off, their genetic replacements happily took to the skies and went to have space adventures.
As more and more of the traditionally successful left, so to did the institutions and organisations that generally bred their prominence. Eventually, all that was left population wise were those who you wouldn't trust with a pair of safety scissors, the sorts of people who complain about the quality of television that is on at 4 in the morning and the criminally insane. And when those sorts are left to rule over a planet, little things like civilisation and culture pretty much go out the window. No matter what way you slice it, Murder She Wrote is not comparable to Othello.
To begin with, the Galactic Federation tried to take care of the danger zone known as Earth. They tried sending aid and providing some positive economical and political influence. But, as ever when such things are forced on people who just aren't interested in helping the common folk, all they did was swell the pockets of those in charge. Those that actually needed the little things like clean water and some food were, once again, left to twiddle their thumbs and hope that enough fell down through the system.
Eventually, the Galactic Federation got the right old hump with Earth and their pilfering, ungrateful ways. Despite being an organisation started by the human race on the exodus from Earth, the Federation finally ran out of patience with their old planet. The turnover of generations cut the bonds of sentiment with the planet and the Federation gave up, instead focusing their efforts in escaping the Milky Way to try to find other intelligent races who might actually want their help.
A few people trickled off Earth and into the larger space community, but for all intents and purposes the dregs that made up the population of the Homeworld were left to their own devices. And when people are left to their own devices with a chip on their shoulder, bad things normally happen.
In this case, the bad things started off with in fighting. The factions of countries that had formed their own little cliques all blamed each other for arsing off the Galactic Federation and their lovely, 'throw money at it to solve the problem' ways. This disagreement between folks eventually went from petty name calling to little skirmish battles, as each group fought to be the dominant one who would take over the world before currying back the favour of Galactic Federation and their sexy free money. Except it is human nature to not be able to just have little skirmishes. It is human nature to escalate things and not let bygones be bygones.
And when the people having a feud are the dregs of human society who have access to weapons of mass destruction, it became blissfully easy to see where things were heading. On an idle Tuesday afternoon at some point in an unseasonably warm autumn, countries finally had enough of each other and started to send nuclear weapons flying around the globe to land wherever they fancied. To say it left the earth a bit of a mess is an understatement. It wasn't completely trashed, but it definitely went down the used car jargon rankings from 'slightly used' to 'perfect for a restoration project'.
After everyone was done unloading their arsenals of death at each other, there wasn't a whole lot left. Most of the world was a great big crater while the parts that were habitable enjoyed a nice nuclear winter. The Galactic Federation, perhaps feeling a trifle guilty over leaving a planet to self destruct, gave them a little bit of help. They alleviated the nuclear winter in the area that was once the ancient city of London while dumping some old space station modules to help give civilisation a bit of a kick start. Eventually, enough people migrated that way and the human population of Earth began to grow once more. From either word of mouth that spread to the various enclaves that had appeared around the world or after being actively sought out and found on reconnaissance missions, the lost human souls all eventually came to London. This time, however, it was as a singularity.
To begin with, it was glorious. All of humanity joining under one banner in order to rebuild their shattered planet, vowing never again to let their differences get in the way of things. Oh, it was a wonder to behold. Except, once again, human nature sort of always gets in the way of wondrous events. When there is a chance to seize absolute power, people want to seize it absolutely. When there is only one sauce of authority, people will question it all the time.
Eventually, the rebooted human race went much the same of the old way. New London soon turned into a new and updated version of Kowloon Walled City. Instead of being the starting point for the Federation to return the planet that they emerged from to it's former glory, New London became one of the staple stops on the tours of the seediest parts of the universe. It bred crime, it bred illegality and it became a base for many of the worst characters. The fact that the Galactic Federation had given up on it meant that if you wanted to stay off their radar, that was the place you went on your holidays. Or emigrated to.
Which is a shame really. London hadn't been all that badly damaged when the world cut off it's nose to spite it's face. If anything, the whole area had been improved as a stray bomb had landed in Slough. But a self governing cesspool it never the less became.
Earth became nothing but a second thought. Even those who actively tried to separate themselves from the Federation, the Rebels, didn't go there. By the time the 26th century came about, the old Homeworld Earth was, if anything, a taboo. Not one soul of humanity looked back there.
Well, maybe one...
Prologue: Also known as 'How The Earth Went South'
When planet Earth decided to blow itself up in a haze of nuclear inspired glory, it wasn't considered as terrible an incident as one would think. Let's face facts, by the point that the twenty fourth century came around Earth was a bit of a dump. As more and more people had emigrated off to live out their dreams on the frontiers of space, those who were left behind were little more than the dregs of society.
And the dregs gave an admirable effort in the running of the planet. Initially, a few major players in the whole global politics and business scene stayed behind. They said they would never give up their beloved home world for the cold, dark horribleness of space. Their children, however, often had a different point of view and as the older generations of Earth loving folk died off, their genetic replacements happily took to the skies and went to have space adventures.
As more and more of the traditionally successful left, so to did the institutions and organisations that generally bred their prominence. Eventually, all that was left population wise were those who you wouldn't trust with a pair of safety scissors, the sorts of people who complain about the quality of television that is on at 4 in the morning and the criminally insane. And when those sorts are left to rule over a planet, little things like civilisation and culture pretty much go out the window. No matter what way you slice it, Murder She Wrote is not comparable to Othello.
To begin with, the Galactic Federation tried to take care of the danger zone known as Earth. They tried sending aid and providing some positive economical and political influence. But, as ever when such things are forced on people who just aren't interested in helping the common folk, all they did was swell the pockets of those in charge. Those that actually needed the little things like clean water and some food were, once again, left to twiddle their thumbs and hope that enough fell down through the system.
Eventually, the Galactic Federation got the right old hump with Earth and their pilfering, ungrateful ways. Despite being an organisation started by the human race on the exodus from Earth, the Federation finally ran out of patience with their old planet. The turnover of generations cut the bonds of sentiment with the planet and the Federation gave up, instead focusing their efforts in escaping the Milky Way to try to find other intelligent races who might actually want their help.
A few people trickled off Earth and into the larger space community, but for all intents and purposes the dregs that made up the population of the Homeworld were left to their own devices. And when people are left to their own devices with a chip on their shoulder, bad things normally happen.
In this case, the bad things started off with in fighting. The factions of countries that had formed their own little cliques all blamed each other for arsing off the Galactic Federation and their lovely, 'throw money at it to solve the problem' ways. This disagreement between folks eventually went from petty name calling to little skirmish battles, as each group fought to be the dominant one who would take over the world before currying back the favour of Galactic Federation and their sexy free money. Except it is human nature to not be able to just have little skirmishes. It is human nature to escalate things and not let bygones be bygones.
And when the people having a feud are the dregs of human society who have access to weapons of mass destruction, it became blissfully easy to see where things were heading. On an idle Tuesday afternoon at some point in an unseasonably warm autumn, countries finally had enough of each other and started to send nuclear weapons flying around the globe to land wherever they fancied. To say it left the earth a bit of a mess is an understatement. It wasn't completely trashed, but it definitely went down the used car jargon rankings from 'slightly used' to 'perfect for a restoration project'.
After everyone was done unloading their arsenals of death at each other, there wasn't a whole lot left. Most of the world was a great big crater while the parts that were habitable enjoyed a nice nuclear winter. The Galactic Federation, perhaps feeling a trifle guilty over leaving a planet to self destruct, gave them a little bit of help. They alleviated the nuclear winter in the area that was once the ancient city of London while dumping some old space station modules to help give civilisation a bit of a kick start. Eventually, enough people migrated that way and the human population of Earth began to grow once more. From either word of mouth that spread to the various enclaves that had appeared around the world or after being actively sought out and found on reconnaissance missions, the lost human souls all eventually came to London. This time, however, it was as a singularity.
To begin with, it was glorious. All of humanity joining under one banner in order to rebuild their shattered planet, vowing never again to let their differences get in the way of things. Oh, it was a wonder to behold. Except, once again, human nature sort of always gets in the way of wondrous events. When there is a chance to seize absolute power, people want to seize it absolutely. When there is only one sauce of authority, people will question it all the time.
Eventually, the rebooted human race went much the same of the old way. New London soon turned into a new and updated version of Kowloon Walled City. Instead of being the starting point for the Federation to return the planet that they emerged from to it's former glory, New London became one of the staple stops on the tours of the seediest parts of the universe. It bred crime, it bred illegality and it became a base for many of the worst characters. The fact that the Galactic Federation had given up on it meant that if you wanted to stay off their radar, that was the place you went on your holidays. Or emigrated to.
Which is a shame really. London hadn't been all that badly damaged when the world cut off it's nose to spite it's face. If anything, the whole area had been improved as a stray bomb had landed in Slough. But a self governing cesspool it never the less became.
Earth became nothing but a second thought. Even those who actively tried to separate themselves from the Federation, the Rebels, didn't go there. By the time the 26th century came about, the old Homeworld Earth was, if anything, a taboo. Not one soul of humanity looked back there.
Well, maybe one...
Wednesday, 9 December 2009
Paid Work Foils Us Again
Sorry for no update yesterday. That pesky paid work got in the way. I suppose I could have knocked something together at 3am when I finished, but didn't think I should inflict a foul mouthed rant at you guys. I like you too much.
I'll be back tomorrow with a real life, sensible post.
I'll be back tomorrow with a real life, sensible post.
Sunday, 6 December 2009
Cat Story
I swear to you that this story is true. This is the kind of silly life I lead.
On Friday, I didn't get done working till rather late. By that point, I couldn't be jacked to go and have a proper night out so I just made like a sad old man and walked up to the local pub for a few beers.
All seemed perfectly normal, I said hello to a few people and meandered outside for a cigarette. While outside doing my bestest to shorten my lifespan, I noticed a ginger cat chilling in the smoking area. Now, I hadn't ever seen this cat before in my life. It seemed quite friendly though. After a bit of investigation, I found out that someone had brought it down from another pub and that it was “his” cat. When he went to leave, he picked the cat up by the scruff, literally threw it in his jacked and marched off. I did think “what a prick” but, as I'm British so very reserved, didn't say anything to him. Before I finished my cigarette, though, he had thrown the thing back in the pub on his way off to god knows where.
Now, as always when you get a slightly odd situation in a pub, a roomful of men dissect and over analyse it. It all adds to the drama. We decided it didn't know where it was, as when all the humans went away the cat continued to just chill out outside. We decided it wasn't local to the pub (well, local in cat terms...) as nobody had seen it before. We therefore decided that the guy who had grabbed it and brought it down was in fact that much of an assclown that he grabbed a random cat. Come to think about it, yesterday when I mentioned that someone should do something I was told “I wouldn't, he will burn your house down.” Nice guy, then.
I considered bringing it home, but then thought better of it. It might have wandered home, it didn't seem in too much danger of being hit by a car and seeing as I was staying with my parents I didn't think they would like having this random cat brought home. Plus, we only put the family cat down last week. Too soon, man, too soon...
Anyway, I was last one out the pub. I suppose that is pretty normal really. I said goodbye to the cat, stuck in my headphones and began the walk back home. Except, when I stopped and got to the main road, I saw this little thing dart along the street. The sodding cat had followed me. I thought, as I was walking in the direction from which it was earlier snatched, it was just on it's way home. Except when I crossed the road, so did it. And when I walked down my road, so did it. It was most definitely following me. When I got to within about 30 metres of my house I was sure that it did not belong to anyone down my street and that it was for the best if I just brought the little critter back to mine. It happily followed me, and was in the front door as soon as I opened it.
Now, I had a decision to make. I had this random, strange cat follow me home. What the hell do you do? Looking at it, it had been well fed, although it showed a few signs of recent weight loss. I decided to chuck the thing some food and then went about my business. It seemed happy to chill out in the house. It unlocked the cat flap and it even went out and came back in.
By the time I went to sleep, I had shut it in the kitchen so it could get outside but not get around the rest of the house. In the morning, it was gone. I assumed it had gotten over being grabbed and yanked by the cuff, had some food and just sort of catted off somewhere.
Yesterday afternoon, however, the thing turfed back up. My dad instantly recognised the thing as a local cat who used to both play with the old family cat and sometimes sneak in and try to steal our old cat's food. Safe in the knowledge it was local, we just ignored it and thought it would go home at some point when it got hungry.
Except, it didn't. It hung around all evening. And all night. I heard it meowing when I went to sleep, and when I woke up this morning I heard it meow again. It hadn't been anywhere but our front door step. Taking pity on it, we gave it some food. It had been there all night and, although I don't exactly want the thing keeping on coming back, felt sorry for it.
Anyway, that's pretty much it. TL;DR - This damned cat followed me home and is trying to move in. Tomorrow we'll call the RSPCA and get some advice. Might even see if they will send an officer to give it a scan and see if it's chipped (no collar, you see). Assuming that nobody has reported the thing missing to the RSPCA, which they may well have done as it would have been missing since Friday afternoon, we will see if it can be identified. Failing that, we'll leave it with them.
Then, we get a really effed up decision. What happens if nobody claims him or an owner can't be found? Do... do we keep it?
Sort of nothingy post I know, but all weekend has been focused around this darn cat.
On Friday, I didn't get done working till rather late. By that point, I couldn't be jacked to go and have a proper night out so I just made like a sad old man and walked up to the local pub for a few beers.
All seemed perfectly normal, I said hello to a few people and meandered outside for a cigarette. While outside doing my bestest to shorten my lifespan, I noticed a ginger cat chilling in the smoking area. Now, I hadn't ever seen this cat before in my life. It seemed quite friendly though. After a bit of investigation, I found out that someone had brought it down from another pub and that it was “his” cat. When he went to leave, he picked the cat up by the scruff, literally threw it in his jacked and marched off. I did think “what a prick” but, as I'm British so very reserved, didn't say anything to him. Before I finished my cigarette, though, he had thrown the thing back in the pub on his way off to god knows where.
Now, as always when you get a slightly odd situation in a pub, a roomful of men dissect and over analyse it. It all adds to the drama. We decided it didn't know where it was, as when all the humans went away the cat continued to just chill out outside. We decided it wasn't local to the pub (well, local in cat terms...) as nobody had seen it before. We therefore decided that the guy who had grabbed it and brought it down was in fact that much of an assclown that he grabbed a random cat. Come to think about it, yesterday when I mentioned that someone should do something I was told “I wouldn't, he will burn your house down.” Nice guy, then.
I considered bringing it home, but then thought better of it. It might have wandered home, it didn't seem in too much danger of being hit by a car and seeing as I was staying with my parents I didn't think they would like having this random cat brought home. Plus, we only put the family cat down last week. Too soon, man, too soon...
Anyway, I was last one out the pub. I suppose that is pretty normal really. I said goodbye to the cat, stuck in my headphones and began the walk back home. Except, when I stopped and got to the main road, I saw this little thing dart along the street. The sodding cat had followed me. I thought, as I was walking in the direction from which it was earlier snatched, it was just on it's way home. Except when I crossed the road, so did it. And when I walked down my road, so did it. It was most definitely following me. When I got to within about 30 metres of my house I was sure that it did not belong to anyone down my street and that it was for the best if I just brought the little critter back to mine. It happily followed me, and was in the front door as soon as I opened it.
Now, I had a decision to make. I had this random, strange cat follow me home. What the hell do you do? Looking at it, it had been well fed, although it showed a few signs of recent weight loss. I decided to chuck the thing some food and then went about my business. It seemed happy to chill out in the house. It unlocked the cat flap and it even went out and came back in.
By the time I went to sleep, I had shut it in the kitchen so it could get outside but not get around the rest of the house. In the morning, it was gone. I assumed it had gotten over being grabbed and yanked by the cuff, had some food and just sort of catted off somewhere.
Yesterday afternoon, however, the thing turfed back up. My dad instantly recognised the thing as a local cat who used to both play with the old family cat and sometimes sneak in and try to steal our old cat's food. Safe in the knowledge it was local, we just ignored it and thought it would go home at some point when it got hungry.
Except, it didn't. It hung around all evening. And all night. I heard it meowing when I went to sleep, and when I woke up this morning I heard it meow again. It hadn't been anywhere but our front door step. Taking pity on it, we gave it some food. It had been there all night and, although I don't exactly want the thing keeping on coming back, felt sorry for it.
Anyway, that's pretty much it. TL;DR - This damned cat followed me home and is trying to move in. Tomorrow we'll call the RSPCA and get some advice. Might even see if they will send an officer to give it a scan and see if it's chipped (no collar, you see). Assuming that nobody has reported the thing missing to the RSPCA, which they may well have done as it would have been missing since Friday afternoon, we will see if it can be identified. Failing that, we'll leave it with them.
Then, we get a really effed up decision. What happens if nobody claims him or an owner can't be found? Do... do we keep it?
Sort of nothingy post I know, but all weekend has been focused around this darn cat.
Thursday, 3 December 2009
How To Keep An Aquarium; Simple Do's and Do Not's
As I pointed out in Tuesday's outing here, in a vague attempt to keep me from going completely off my rocker I bought an aquarium. Before we go any further, yes I am aware that that is serial killer logic. Anyway, I bought it because it's quite nice to be able to stop working for 20 minutes or so a day and go and preen over it. It is quite relaxing, mildly therapeutic and the tank itself looks kick ass.
However, that is what it is like today. I got the thing at the end of October and only just now is it behaving itself. Up until recently I have had cats, some of my best friends have dogs and a few people I know have horses. Let me tell you something, none of those animals require half as much attention as a sodding fish tank.
Now, I admit I should have probably done some research before I henced forth with the aquarium lifestyle, but I'm a bit of a dullard. When I picked up the tank, I thought it would be as simple as buying the tank, filling it up with water and chucking fish in it, throwing some food in every day and cleaning it from time to time. Oh how wrong I was.
You have to play the chemist by preening over the thing and checking water chemical levels, you have to add bacteria and check on the health of your fish, you have to change the water and clean it religiously, you have to clean out the filter, make sure the heater is working and all sorts. It is more needy than a child.
So, for anyone out there who feels like buying an aquarium would be a good life move, please look at my simple “Do and Don't” list. It will likely save your life one day, son.
DO buy a big tank. They are a tad more expensive, but they are also a metric fuckload easier to keep. With a smaller tank, any chemical imbalance will show itself much, much quicker and kill off all your fish.
DON'T listen to people at a big old chain store for advice. Most garden centres have an aquatics bit that employs people who actually know about fish, not just morons who manage not to poop themselves in public.
DO, however, buy your big items such as the tank and gravel from a large chain pet shop. They will be considerably cheaper than any small aquatics shop.
DO read absolutely everything there is to read about the Nitrogen Cycle – the process that turns ammonia (aka poop) into nitrites (aka deadly poison) into nitrates (aka not so deadly poison). Establishing that cycle properly, and this is isn't an over reaction, will be the difference between whether your tank lives.... or dies.
DON'T put too many fish in at once. The more fish means the more poop means the more bacteria you will need. And let me tell you something, that stuff takes bloody ages to grow. In the meanwhile, while it is growing your fish will be being made rather unwell.
DO, wherever possible, steal the insides of someone's filter. A lot of the friendly bacteria you will need is on those pads, so if you can either nick one off a friend or puppy dog eye a shop into giving one to you, do it. Take that bad boy home and shove it in your filter along with the existing media.
DO find a friend who keeps the same sort of fish as you. Whether it be being able to have of their filter media to taking baby fish that they don't have room for in order to stock your tank cheaply, they will be invaluable.
DON'T buy fish based on how big they are when you buy them, get them based on how big they will get. Yesterday I really wanted to buy this cute little 'shark' type fish, until the knowledgeable man pointed out that it would eventually be so big it would struggle to fit in my tank..
DO buy fish according to their needs – some need a big shoal, some can only have one male to a tank and some need lots of females around.
DO buy a good water-chemical testing kit. Decent drop kits are £12ish per chemical you need to test for, but each will do you for well over a year.
As this has already gone from being funny to being a public service announcement, let me give you the simple 4 step guide to fish keeping
If in doubt about anything at all, ask someone who knows their stuff. Much like driving and sex, everyone has to have an uncomfortable and unceremonious first time.
However, that is what it is like today. I got the thing at the end of October and only just now is it behaving itself. Up until recently I have had cats, some of my best friends have dogs and a few people I know have horses. Let me tell you something, none of those animals require half as much attention as a sodding fish tank.
Now, I admit I should have probably done some research before I henced forth with the aquarium lifestyle, but I'm a bit of a dullard. When I picked up the tank, I thought it would be as simple as buying the tank, filling it up with water and chucking fish in it, throwing some food in every day and cleaning it from time to time. Oh how wrong I was.
You have to play the chemist by preening over the thing and checking water chemical levels, you have to add bacteria and check on the health of your fish, you have to change the water and clean it religiously, you have to clean out the filter, make sure the heater is working and all sorts. It is more needy than a child.
So, for anyone out there who feels like buying an aquarium would be a good life move, please look at my simple “Do and Don't” list. It will likely save your life one day, son.
DO buy a big tank. They are a tad more expensive, but they are also a metric fuckload easier to keep. With a smaller tank, any chemical imbalance will show itself much, much quicker and kill off all your fish.
DON'T listen to people at a big old chain store for advice. Most garden centres have an aquatics bit that employs people who actually know about fish, not just morons who manage not to poop themselves in public.
DO, however, buy your big items such as the tank and gravel from a large chain pet shop. They will be considerably cheaper than any small aquatics shop.
DO read absolutely everything there is to read about the Nitrogen Cycle – the process that turns ammonia (aka poop) into nitrites (aka deadly poison) into nitrates (aka not so deadly poison). Establishing that cycle properly, and this is isn't an over reaction, will be the difference between whether your tank lives.... or dies.
DON'T put too many fish in at once. The more fish means the more poop means the more bacteria you will need. And let me tell you something, that stuff takes bloody ages to grow. In the meanwhile, while it is growing your fish will be being made rather unwell.
DO, wherever possible, steal the insides of someone's filter. A lot of the friendly bacteria you will need is on those pads, so if you can either nick one off a friend or puppy dog eye a shop into giving one to you, do it. Take that bad boy home and shove it in your filter along with the existing media.
DO find a friend who keeps the same sort of fish as you. Whether it be being able to have of their filter media to taking baby fish that they don't have room for in order to stock your tank cheaply, they will be invaluable.
DON'T buy fish based on how big they are when you buy them, get them based on how big they will get. Yesterday I really wanted to buy this cute little 'shark' type fish, until the knowledgeable man pointed out that it would eventually be so big it would struggle to fit in my tank..
DO buy fish according to their needs – some need a big shoal, some can only have one male to a tank and some need lots of females around.
DO buy a good water-chemical testing kit. Decent drop kits are £12ish per chemical you need to test for, but each will do you for well over a year.
As this has already gone from being funny to being a public service announcement, let me give you the simple 4 step guide to fish keeping
- Buy an aquarium, put in a shit load of gravel and your decorations, fill it with water, turn on the filter and heater and leave it be
- Wait 5 days, buy some water drop kits and a few hardy fish. I recommend 3 Swordtails (2 females, one male). Oh, and always add a product to the water that takes out the chlorine and other crap.
- Feed them sparingly and check your water chemicals every day, adding bacteria booster as per the instructions. First the ammonia will spike, then the nitrites. If at any point you get over 2ppm of either, or a bacteria bloom (it will look like someone threw milk in your tank), do a 50% water change.
- When both ammonia and nitrites have spiked and gone back down, add a few more fish at a time. After each addition, both readings will go back up and come back down.
If in doubt about anything at all, ask someone who knows their stuff. Much like driving and sex, everyone has to have an uncomfortable and unceremonious first time.
Tuesday, 1 December 2009
Things I Do To Keep Myself Sane
When people ask me what it's like working from home, I tell them that it is better than being thrown groin first into an oily pit of supermodels. I don't have a boss looking over my shoulder, I don't have to get up at a set time so long as I stick 10 hours a day in and I don't have to commute anywhere further than down the hall and downstairs.
In actuality, it's pretty dull. I don't have co-workers to chat to. I don't have a boss to hate on. I just sit at my desk with a justin.tv stream going all day and mainly churn out press releases and short web content articles that don't allow for dick jokes. When you also factor in that I can often go for a few days without actually leaving the house, you get a pretty solid picture of my life. I call it the 'struggling writer' lifestyle, where as many others call it the 'sad sack' one.
To combat this, I've build up a number of protocols to keep my from bouncing off the walls in sheer madness. The 3 I use most are -
1) Facebook
I hate Facebook with all my soul. I hate the fact that it makes me feel self conscious that I only have 200 friends. The fact that I actually know all 200 of the people and could easily invite them out for a beer is neither here nor there. I also only have 98 photos. I just don't take a digital camera with me on nights out and cannot be bothered to edit, label and tag entire reams of photos.
However, I find myself increasingly using it to talk to people. Back in the day, everyone used to use MSN Messenger. Today, I have about 9 people who are still old school and are logged on at times. Therefore, I am left with little option but to log on to Facebook if I want human interaction. I hate it, it makes it look like I enjoy Facebook. Also, it makes it look like I do nothing all day as I'm always on Facebook.
2) Fish
I bought an aquarium. I will admit, I am a little bit of a fan of various animals and figured that buying an aquarium would give me something to do. Where as in an office, people often go outside and smoke or make rounds of tea to take a break, I have no such luck. I can smoke at my desk and I don't like tea. Obviously, the logical thing to do to get me away from my desk for 10 minutes at a time was to buy an aquarium to tend to.
I regret nothing. Sure, it costs £150 odd to set up a decent tank and put fish in it, but it is tremendous fun. One of my fish is even named after Nat Coombs, the guy who hosts the NFL On Five coverage after a few emails got read out on air. I recommend fish keeping to everyone and will probably write an idiots guide to fish keeping on Thursday.
3) Taking The Laptop To The Pub
I admit that this is probably cheating a bit, but it works. Although a vast majority of my time is spent doing jobs for other people, I do try to make sure I have at least a day a week where I don't have to do any paid work so I can work on my own stuff. Along with churning out some gibbering rubbish here thrice a week, I write a fair old bit of stuff that doesn't see the light of day straight away. I've got one book manuscript that is doing the rounds until someones decides to recognise my genius and publish it, I'm a solid start into another and I'm also working on a charity book.
For all of these things, I don't need the Internet, email and such. Nor does it matter if I'm under the influence while writing them, as I edit my work to a stupid degree at times. So I pack up my laptop and head off to the pub.
Speaking of which, it is beer o'clock. See ya'll later!
In actuality, it's pretty dull. I don't have co-workers to chat to. I don't have a boss to hate on. I just sit at my desk with a justin.tv stream going all day and mainly churn out press releases and short web content articles that don't allow for dick jokes. When you also factor in that I can often go for a few days without actually leaving the house, you get a pretty solid picture of my life. I call it the 'struggling writer' lifestyle, where as many others call it the 'sad sack' one.
To combat this, I've build up a number of protocols to keep my from bouncing off the walls in sheer madness. The 3 I use most are -
1) Facebook
I hate Facebook with all my soul. I hate the fact that it makes me feel self conscious that I only have 200 friends. The fact that I actually know all 200 of the people and could easily invite them out for a beer is neither here nor there. I also only have 98 photos. I just don't take a digital camera with me on nights out and cannot be bothered to edit, label and tag entire reams of photos.
However, I find myself increasingly using it to talk to people. Back in the day, everyone used to use MSN Messenger. Today, I have about 9 people who are still old school and are logged on at times. Therefore, I am left with little option but to log on to Facebook if I want human interaction. I hate it, it makes it look like I enjoy Facebook. Also, it makes it look like I do nothing all day as I'm always on Facebook.
2) Fish
I bought an aquarium. I will admit, I am a little bit of a fan of various animals and figured that buying an aquarium would give me something to do. Where as in an office, people often go outside and smoke or make rounds of tea to take a break, I have no such luck. I can smoke at my desk and I don't like tea. Obviously, the logical thing to do to get me away from my desk for 10 minutes at a time was to buy an aquarium to tend to.
I regret nothing. Sure, it costs £150 odd to set up a decent tank and put fish in it, but it is tremendous fun. One of my fish is even named after Nat Coombs, the guy who hosts the NFL On Five coverage after a few emails got read out on air. I recommend fish keeping to everyone and will probably write an idiots guide to fish keeping on Thursday.
3) Taking The Laptop To The Pub
I admit that this is probably cheating a bit, but it works. Although a vast majority of my time is spent doing jobs for other people, I do try to make sure I have at least a day a week where I don't have to do any paid work so I can work on my own stuff. Along with churning out some gibbering rubbish here thrice a week, I write a fair old bit of stuff that doesn't see the light of day straight away. I've got one book manuscript that is doing the rounds until someones decides to recognise my genius and publish it, I'm a solid start into another and I'm also working on a charity book.
For all of these things, I don't need the Internet, email and such. Nor does it matter if I'm under the influence while writing them, as I edit my work to a stupid degree at times. So I pack up my laptop and head off to the pub.
Speaking of which, it is beer o'clock. See ya'll later!
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