Category: Uncategorized

Think…. think… oh sod it.


The title pretty much sums it up. I’m supposed to be studying and yet I keep getting sucked into bloody Facebook and various other forums,

Well, in an effort to do something constructive I thought, ‘Hey! Why don’t I write on my blog?’

I mean, its been fucking aeon’s since I even looked at this thing.

Damn this wine is good.

You see what happened there? I was telling you how long its been since I wrote something and then I go and get all involved with the wine again. I’ve been doing that all night. You don’t believe me? Ha, well I started that last sentence a half hour ago. I’ve been trawling through Facebook since. Oh, and Its my second glass since even starting this post.

Damn this wine is good.

Did I mention I like motorbikes? I do. I think they are gods own mode of transport, should he actually need anything. Anyway, this is just a random tangent I’m letting my fingers tread so bare with me a while longer. I’ll tell you about my latest project. Take a look at this…..

Image
I call this beast El’Rusto. Its a fucking heap…. for now.

This beast has been keeping me busy for a few weeks now. I bought as a project and possible business venture with the wife. The plan was to buy up mechanically sound but otherwise cosmetically challenged bikes and make them look all pretty again. Simple eh? I mean its bomb proof right? Eh-er!

Its been a bloody disaster. Okay disaster is a bit harsh. Its not worked out quite how I thought it would. To save time here, and because I am a super lazy fucker, I will now compile a list of things I have learned and that have most likely fucked me off over the past few weeks.

  • CBR 125’s are as plentiful as council estate chavs.
  • Many council estate chavs are highly likely to own a CBR 125 at some time or another.
  • Being a chav, they are also highly likely to neglect little things like, oh I don’t know, servicing, MOT, basic maintenance. That sort of thing. Anything important that would involve any degree of responsibility.
  • Its also highly probable our friendly chav does not own a garage or even a shed. El’Rusto will sit outside in the garden, alongside a fridge maybe, and possibly a sofa.
  • If, like me, you are super keen to get to work and hopefully turn a profit, you’ll discover that because of all of the above, you’re in for real treat.
  • On getting the bike home (and into some decent light that doesn’t involve Mr Chav showing you the bike via a zippo lighter) you discover that the bike is more rust than anything else.
  • All of the fairings are scratched, cracked or both.
  • Every single serviceable item i.e air filter, spark plugs, breather pipes etc. are all absolutely fucking knackered.
  • An oil change will have you tearing at your own eyes as you struggle to make sense of the black sludge that drains from the sump.
  • Inspection of coolant will reveal that there is none.
  • Same for break fluid.
  • The forks will be badly pitted with the fork seals resembling something like Mrs Chav’s knickers after a night on the town.
  • You’ll probably sigh with relief as your realise the tires appear to be in good order, only to realise that that the rims are banana shaped.
  • Every little task you set yourself will, upon further investigation, be hiding a fucking big problem requiring not the half hour you planned but a full day.
  • I could go on… but the wine is running low.

I’m so glad this is good wine.

So, not to worry. The bike project is finally starting to make some headway now. I have conquered most of the major problems and corrected them and I’m happy to say that I think I nearing the finishing line. No, don’t applause. I’ve been here before and I don’t want anyone fucking clapping until that thing passes its MOT. I’m not sure if I had a goal prior to starting this other than to make money but now I certainly have one. I’d like this thing to pass its MOT first time with no advisories. That would be bloody wonderful and a testament to my manly skills too.

Right, wine? Wine??? Where the fuck is my wine?

Fate


I am a paramedic… And I think I believe in fate.

If you asked me a few years back, even a year ago, I’m sure I would have said that fate was all bollocks and that no one controls destiny. And yet, as time goes by I find I beginning to question that belief.

This post was inspired by my recent interest in motorcycles and the fact that I am now in the process of training for my bike license. My father hates bikes. ‘Organ donor machines’, I think that’s how he refers to them, are apparently a one way ticket to the grave. Now I haven’t researched any statistics to bolster my point I view, but I am in a unique position in that if anyone is going to come across a motorcycle accident, it’s going to be me. I see a few in my line of work and so I feel I have a fairly good idea of how accidents involving bikes occur, the likely injuries sustained and also, the likelihood of death occurring. Now, I can honestly say that I have been to far more accidents in which car drivers have sustained life changing injuries or died as opposed to bikers. Obviously there are far more cars on the road than bikes but I don’t think that is the definitive argument in this case. In fact, I am beginning to believe that fate has more to do with this than anything else.

There is a line from birth to death, you could simply think of as A to B, and for many people, of all ages I have been there when they reach B. Some meet their end in their sleep, completely unaware that their journey is over. Some will wake this morning, have their breakfast as normal, get dressed for work, and then maybe have a heart attack or a stroke. Or, perhaps they are in fantastic health. Maybe Mr Smith, who goes to the gym four times a week, eats healthily, and leads a relatively stress free life gets hit by an out of control car. Or, Mrs Jenkins, who unbeknownst to her, was not hit by an out of control car, or struck down by a heart attack. Instead she falls silently on a packed bus, and nothing anyone can do will save her. Her genetic makeup hides a ticking time bomb she could never have known about. Mr Smith’s autopsy report might record accidental death. Mrs Jenkins’ might read cause unknown.

I’ve seen people survive things that by rights should have killed them, just as often as I have seen people die when they should have survived. So what is that if not fate?

Science, statistics and all manor of medical jargon and research may dispute fate, but I guarantee that a good percentage of medical staff will, after witnessing a surprising patent death, mutter the words ‘maybe it was just his time.’ Sayings like that don’t come out of nowhere. They mean something. Perhaps they mean that we don’t understand enough to know what really happened, but I am really starting to think it’s far simpler than that – perhaps when your time is up, it’s up and nothing on earth will change that.

I don’t think for one second that everything is preordained. That would remove the element of choice from our lives and as we all know, if we didn’t have choice in our lives we would soon go crazy. No, this is what I think. I think, there is a line from A to B, from birth to death. I think some people’s line is longer than others for no other reason than it just is. Perhaps we all draw straws in the beginning. I also think that that line is not straight. Perhaps, the distance between A and B is already set – the duration of your life, but maybe you make your own journey there. To me, this makes sense. It explains why people for all walks of life can suddenly meet their end for no reason whatsoever. Except maybe there is a reason, and that is that they have reached their destination, the end of the line. The end of their line.

Who knows? I for one am keeping an open mind. What do you think?

Tick tick tick…


I have til midnight on the 31st Jan. After that the deadline ends and another chance has slid on by.

Whoa… Back up there! What the *beep* are you talking about man?

I have stumbled across a kind of unofficial short story competition. Yes, unofficial but the thing is its being judged by one of the Black Library’s own authors.

I’m all over this like a fly on shit.

M 😉