Just in case you were wondering

Friday 04th May

I'm not dead. No matter what the doctor says. Thankfully I've only seen him once this week, whereas i've had three nurses get a hold of my body.

Mind you, it does mean that I've had to take time out from work. But it can't all be bad can it.

Oh, and in case you're wondering and really feel the need to ask, be warned, the tale does involve surgery, scars, blood vessels, bursting, pus and lots of swelling. And the story will cost you a beer.

Each

On the transatlantic divide

Monday 14th May

Right, you Americans over there, I want you to know something. You know all that shit that you lord over us thinking we care, i have one thing to say to you. Grape.

Grape fucking flavour. it's wrong. Anywhere over here, you go to the juices shelf, the purple one is blackcurrant. Not Grape. nobody over here has ever heard of grape, and you know why?

I'll give you a comparison. Imagine you're about to eat some lovely prime honey-roasted beef jerkey. Just so sweet and tastey as you could possibly imagine. And as you shut your eyes and raise the jerkey to your mouth someone stubs a cigarette out on your tongue. Now that's grape flavour.

Right?

Day 3 in a world without cigarettes

Wednesday 23rd May

Day one was remarkably easy, but then again, the first step is easy enough when you've only just stubbed out a cigarette. A day working and then round at a non-smoking friends house, and then home and to bed, that wasn't too bad.

Day two was a nightmare. I had another trip to the hospital to see how my body hates me this month, followed by lunch and then a few hours at home. Which normally would involve video games, porn, internet and smoking. To have a cigarette in the hand while playing a game is a natural habit for me now, and one that will take a lot to break. But that wasn't the hell, to be fair that was easy enough.

No, the test came last night in the pub with friends. A-lot of whom (with a laughable sense of disregard for their own self preservation) all decided to roll, light and smoke cigarettes while sat next to me, or across the table for me or even across the room from me. Maybe it's because they didn't appreciate the fact that I was a quivering ball of rage, ready to leap across the table and choke them to death unless they gave me all their cigarettes.

I think what saved them more is the fact that I don't really like roll-ups. It would have been tougher had any of them had a normal straight cigarette. Then there probably would have been giblets and the occasional entrail hanging from a light fitting.

I have tried on numerous occasions this year alone to quit smoking. With various levels of success. None of which has lasted more than a week and some lasting less than 2 hours. But even those that lasted a week I have to own up to stealing the 'occasional' cigarette from people. But so far not this time.

You see, every other time I've tried, I've waited for the "right time" to do it, where I'm not up to very much, when the vikings aren't too busy… when all there is is me and my games to deal with and I don't have to see many people. Maybe that's the wrong way round. Maybe I need to pick a time like now when I'm so busy and stressed that I don't have time to be pissy about not having a cigarette.

Now this could turn out to be a huge mistake. I'm going up to a Vikings show on Saturday for a long drive with Bill and Ben, (the Viking men) and spending a weekend in a field. Which will be a stress test for me, not forgetting the sitting-around-a-campfire-drinking … which usually involves a few cigarettes. Although that won't be the big test. No, the big test will be Norway.

I'm going to Norway again in just over a week and I've got to decide for real if I'm smoking or not by that point. Because if I'm smoking, that's not a problem, I'll just buy duty free on the way over. And if I'm not smoking, that's fine too, because I won't buy the duty free. But if I'm still not smoking when I set off and a week on an island with no running water, no electricity and a buttload of nutters demands that I start smoking again, I'm fucked. Because the nearest place to get them will be many many miles away over hill and dale and fjord.

If I snap 28 days later will have nothing on me.

But for now, all I need to focus on is the fact that this is day three. I've managed days one and two. This is day three. Balls to how many hours, minutes, seconds I've managed. I last smoked on Sunday night, this makes today day three.

God have mercy on me. Or at least on my victims.

Vikings & Acting & Bears, Oh My

Friday 25th May

So, this weekend there's a Vyke show going on in Tynemouth. Which isn't a problem.

Nor is it a problem that they're expecting an acting session. You see, now I'm the grand high evil overlord of all that is acty and fun for the Vyke, the RAT King himself, (Recognised Acting Thegn), all of this falls under my purview and is all grand and groovy.

No, the problem is that as soon as you set something up, something shits on you from a great height. Let's see, what's going on this weekend that I'm responsible for?

Well, there's the new plan on dressing for battle, so that the audience can see the villagers obviously getting armoured, weaponed, and waved off by loved ones to battle. And obviously this causes a riot because apparently some people do it already, which I can't remember ever seeing... and some people just hate the idea because a public area that occasionally has public in it during a show we are performing for the public... might get a little too crowded for the public. Well we'll see shall we.

Then there's the CP's. You see, the living history encampment, heretofore known as Authentiville looks impressive, until you realise that for the most part, it's not a village that lives and breathes, it's a collection of tents that somehow ended up next to each other. There's no feeling of the community there. You see, to give more of a feel of history in action to the living history section, it would be nice, in my imagination, to have Character Parts (CPs) travelling between the encampments and interacting with everyone, not just the public, but the villagers as well.

Which is fine, until you try and get a volunteer to take that part.

And of course, the 2 o'clock acting session. The bit that's actually in the contract. A half hour show demonstrating life in the 10th Century. Of which the writing of such a thing is what I hate and the reason why I resisted this job for as long as I could. But I write an acceptable script and put out for volunteers. I get 2. Of which I get a phone call last night to tell me that one of those cannot make it because he's got a spear in his foot. Oh joy.

I am of course blatently ignoring all the people who have offered to help and volunteered and are lovely and bouncy and so on. But it helps the motivation if i've got to panic about everything.

Here's to booze.