Cold and raw here today - unusal for down here in Dorset. Playing calming flute music. Herself is at the coal face having returned from spending a couple of days seeing v. badly ill Dad & coping Mum at the end of last week. Also had a girls’ dinner with her sister which is nice for them both. Everyone trying to put a brave face on things but Mum unable to imagine how she’ll cope when Dad passes over after 60 years together and a wonderful marriage. She will cope somehow - but will miss him dreadfully. Staunch members of their Church (founded by Grandad), upright and very decent people who brought up a brood of kids on v. little money - all of whom have succeeded in their own lives and are at the top of their chosen professions. All worked hard at their education in State schools, no crime, no wingeing about how deprivation made them do drugs / drink, no playing away from home and only my wife with a divorce when her then husband ‘fessed up after being found in (their) bed with a bloke and wanted out because marriage ‘was too constricting’. Don’t say it - I’ve said enough for a hundred people. Given her Church and family upbringing you can have no idea what that did to my wife and I can never take that hurt away from her.

If her family could do what they have on the little they had - then anyone can. So I’m a bit short on sympathy for a certain sector of humman life-form burrowing in the filth of their pathetic lives on my money - and even worse, my wife’s money and her parents’ too. But they all vote for bliar ‘cause they know he and brown will keep thieving from the decent to throw at the grossly indecent.

You can tell I’m upset but if my wife ever found out I had written this she’d murder me. Born Again Christians can be very assertive!! It’s just that thinking over what her Mum and Dad achieved for their Church, their family and many disadvantaged people and how decent they are makes me mad at the tossers.

Meanwhile I’ve scored one against the commercial pirates by wringing £400 out of the company that my wife and I buy our cars from because they weren’t very nice to us or to a number of their staff whom I’ve known for 20 odd years. So we’re quids in which can’t be bad. Also the letter of apology will stay in the file for use another day. Heh, heh.

I can’t believe how long ago my last blog was but I’ve been a bit busy. Meanwhile I’m getting on fine with Rikki the Personal Trainer. He’s a nice chap and never sneers at me or my shape. I’m a lot better already - though miles away from being fit. The old belt came in a notch last week (which is better than keeping on buying longer belts) and the weight is down a tad. Oh well, onwards and upwards. Interestingly the bit I hate most is when he stretches my legs after all the exercise stuff. It hurts like Hell. But I can’t really cry. The joke is that although his shirt reads ‘Fitness Instructor’ on the back, he wrecked a leg last year playing football (soccer - the wrong sort) and is still having treatment - but I’m very caring and always ask how he’s doing. All the pieces of equipment are black and silver and computerised so I have to enter my private number and the results all come out in charts and graphs. Pride comes into this. Hey ho. Gotta go forritt!!

Also gyms are a new world for me with their own secret ways - like the Masons. Denizens come in various formats. Mr (oh God, and Miss - except I’m sure they must be Ms) Muscles. Found in the Weights Room. Stretch every opening of their clothing which was originally designed for the normal human form. Look EXTREMELY serious. Sweat (This includes the Ms’s) unattractively in v-shapes below the neck and between the buttocks. This appears to be a point of pride. If that happened to me I would not be proud, as they are, I would be deeply embarrassed. It would suggest that I was doing too much and should lie down quietly somewhere and listen to calming music whilst drinking something long and alcoholic with ice in it.

One nice group are those who are disabled in some way and come for helpful exercise. However limited their ability thay try cheerfully and hopefully. What a lesson to the tossers (see above) - and to me.

Then there are the mindless-bangers. Ho-hup, ho-hup. Staring blankly into space (or worse - at the mindless tv monitors) accepting the rubbish muzack, or - more often - wearing earphones to prove they have the latest thingy - they trundle away heaving, striding, pedalling towards some unknown nirvana. Human detritus.

Then there are the New Year’s Resolution Brigade. Even more lumpy than am I, unused to wearing gym kit, regretting coming there. Rikki tells me they’ll all be gone by mid-February.

More frightening are the white-haired slim-as-a-whippet brigade (both M & F) who hurtle at things at least twice as fast as I can without getting red in the face or even breathing too hard. Why haven’t they heard of crocheting, water colour painting or bird watching - or, better still, chatting down the pub?

Inevitably, there are the poseurs (again both M & F). Carefully coiffed hair (which they sweep back with a careful hand), distinctive - but not outrageous - sportswear, a towel (essential, apparently), a container of liquid - no NOT a mere bottle of water, something in plastic with a ‘feeder’ and a logo. Looking round to see who is watching they address each piece of equipment with care. Set the bottle down in the holder provided, fold the towel over the (inevitable) rail. Draw breath, look around again - and then ‘perform’. Yuch!!

The really frightening thought, though, is that no attractive people visit the gym. I heven’t seen one I would invite out to coffee, let alone home to dinner. Mostly the men look like a blank space and the women are - well - self-obsessed or homely. Ah, I see the penetrating question - what does that say about me? Simply that if I haven’t done enough to satisfy my Doctor at the start of March - he’ll give me more kinds of Hell than I can imagine. So I’m on a solo voyage and if the others are weird - it’s their problem not mine.

Sudden Thought - Surely none of them think that I’M weird? AArrgh!!

Enough already. My love and best wishes to Mort’s Mom and Julianna. Hey treasure - hope all is going well.

Today’s thought? Many people do harm in their day. So do a little good and bring a small smile to some of the people you interact with every day. A small moment of pleasure in a busy day is a gift like the first flowers in Spring. You can give that gift. So do it. Hey - take care out there - Dad

Sunshine but a nasty cold wind today. Playing clasical stuff and can’t help playing Spiegel im spiegel by Part over and over again. Brings me out in tears.

The dreaded Rikki this morning, but I’m coming along well. The knee hates it, though. Then Melanie my gardening person who will restore my garden to some sense of beauty. 2006 is going to be a major re-building year.

It has been my week for sending flowers. To Henry’s Mum for sundry reasons; to Henry’s sister for what she has done for Mum; to Rachel who worked for Mum and me for some 12 years or so as a manager in the small chain of ladies underwear shops I owned at the time and who swaps Christmas Cards with me each year including 2005. Her card told me that she was marrying again (I think she’s about 73) so I sent the flowers. I think it is her SEVENTH marriage - but let’s not discuss that in public. She’s a dynamic lady. Anyway, with the flower-card came a message which ended with my first name. She phoned Interflora to ask who it was that sent them? I’m a ghost. I’m a non-person. Any minute now I won’t be able to see myself in the mirror. Actually I laughed my socks off.

I’d love to get my hands on Henry’s crane. May I ask for your support?

So I’m busy now and wish you all well. My simple thought today - tell someone you love that you love them. We’re all so darned busy that we don’t take the time to say those words. Later on, it might be too late. Be peaceful - Dad

Cold but bright sunlight today. Playing a classical music compilation CD which suits me fine. Herself is whizzing about and teeny-tiny gardening like mad. Phew!

Well, as foretold I met my ‘personal trainer’ Rikki for an assessment on Wednesday and started ‘the programme’ yesterday. Whew! Disconcerting to have electronic measurements of relative fat / lean in my lumpen shape compared with what they should be in an ideal case. My sole reason for not sharing this information is to spare those of you who are artistically inclined from the mathematics. Let alone the mere thought. Let’s just say ‘bad’ does not adequately cover the situation. However, the great thing about starting from a low base point is that minor early improvements look impressive. Very motivating.

The gym is awash with black hi-tech kit covered in buttons, readouts, flashing lights etc. The bad news is the musak. I can’t believe it was ‘written’ - certainly not by a sensate being. I have no idea how the ghastly sounds are created - if by humans then they must be ‘on’ something that would stun an elephant and can’t be long for this world - not that they appear to inhabit it at present. Is this the ‘pain’ linked to ‘gain’? I suppose it encourages me to hit my objectives as soon as possible so that I need never be forced to hear it (one cannot ‘listen’) ever again. Aaargh!!

Anyway I walked, pedalled, squatted, humped, pushed, strained, balanced and heaved. I asked Rikki if he was taught sadism or was it inherent? Then went home for a lie down. One knee is sulking and sending painful ‘nips’ to confirm it hates me and I ache in places I didn’t know I had. Meanwhile, pre-existing personal efforts of various kinds knocked off 8 pounds since before Christmas so if all this physical distress pushes that along my basic get-fitter-and-lose-two-stone objective should come in on time. Good project management.

That’s about it for now. Lots of interesting business stuff to do next week as well as more Rikki so things look good.

As a New Year refresher - remember that there are five keys to our lives:
The things we have to do.
The things we want to do.
The things we hope to do.
The things we do for fun.
The attitude we show to others.

Make sure you do something about each one every day and so go to sleep feeling at ease with yourself. Take care, all - Dad

Funny day here - some sun, some cloud. Big log fire going though.

Every year we watch the New Year’s Day Concert from the Golden Concert Hall in Vienna. Magic! In a brief speech at the end the Conductor said, in effect, music is a gift for the soul. Music is uplifting. Is he ever right. I find myself in tears and all choked up, can’t speak, when I hear various pieces of music. The only way you can get a ticket is by a lottery because so many people all over the world want to be there. Serious money as in bank robberies is required. Should we try to get two tickets before I snuff it? Hell, I won’t need the money afterwards.

Happy New Year to one and all. May you keep a small percentage of your N.Y.Resolutions. May 2006 bring health and happiness to you and yours.

But it will certainly bring sorrow and distress to some. So keep an eye out for others and give them a lift along the way, why don’t you. Dad