What a Cnut.

I just had a haircut. My head is now exposed to the wind and rain that typifies the Scottish summer. I look like Private Pile from the Stanley Kubrick flick Full Metal Jacket.

And it's not a song by Ingrid Chavez . It's the G8 summit. Edinburgh awaits with baited breath to see how much damage is going to be caused by those "Nasty anarchist people." But not me. I'm better prepared for the chaos and mayhem that is going to happen according to some sources. I have a Kevlar helmet and a cricket bat if the worst comes to the worst and Edinburgh spends three days under martial law due to Mcdonalds, GAP, Starbucks and the headquarters for the RBS being set alight by anticapitalists, anarchists and Edinburgh Neds . If the dungheap does indeed hit the windmill I shall answer the call of duty, strap on my helmet, crab my cricket bat for personal protection and get right into the foray complete with camera and notebook & pen to document the goings on. I'm just stupid enough to do so as well. Why not? If some fool journo is not game enough to get his face mashed for the good of reporting then I'm game to give it a bash. And besides, as...

Makes my heart beat faster. How about yours?

Blue. As I sit here writing, King Curtis blows out a whiter shade of pale. Words... come to my mind to describe the emotion this tune carries along upon golden notes, like dewdrops hanging from a spiders web, each toot, poo-tee-woot and poo-tee-weet takes me further into my mind. Way down inside. Down to where the mad March hare runs and Alice lives. ...And I write them. Whether or not they are understood. Whether or not they are read. Just so long as they are there. Visions... leap into my third eye, I sense the presence of the disembodied audience that I hear through the sweet simpatico of sound. I know these people, they are our friends, our lovers and our legacies. A voice in the crowd says "Yes," and in my mind I see Dean Moriarty pop into existence, he smiles at me and darts off into the crowd. Far away. A being of time and space now. A conglomerate of individuals different memories, created by God and kept alive by the words and the music. ...Close enough to touch.

It's really sad that something as trivial as reaching 4000 hits on my blog should make me feel like I do at the moment. I began posting on this blog about a year ago. In fact, it's only two days until this blog is a year old. I never thought I'd keep up with posting on it for longer than a week or two before I got sick of it and resigned it to being another good intention that I grew tired of. But, here I am, still posting. And, not only am I still posting but I'm still enjoying doing it. I know this blog isn't widely read, hell I only have 9 returning readers, but that doesn't bother me. I'd enjoy doing this even if no-one read it during my lifetime and it only got read posthumously by beings far in the future on spaceships that can tap into our internet, time travel, fly faster than light speed and make a cup of instant coffee that actually tastes like freshly made ground coffee... But I doubt that will ever happen. Instant coffee can't be made to tast...

When he has a day off from work. I'm off today and I'm pondering what I should do. I have one thing I must do, go to the bank and deposit my wages cheque, apart from that the rest of the day is freetime. Perhaps I could have a dice day? Though, thinking about it maybe I'll have Wednesday as dice day. I can be better prepared to allow the dice control over my actions if I do this. My cheque will be cleared, I can get up early, rather than sleeping until midday as I did today and I can have the whole day dicing. Having a full days dicing sounds infinitely more enjoyable compared to half a day. Plus, I'll be fully prepared to document my dice day in my notebook, it'll give me something to write about and also give you all something to read. Now though, I'm going to jump into the shower, get dressed and go over to the bank to deposit my wages cheque. Have a nice day.

If I knew how to I'd put a list of music I'm listening to at the moment in the sidebar of my blog. But I don't know how to, so I'm posting it here. Muse. Prime Circle. Hello Crazy World. Jean Michel Jarre. Aero. The Pogues. Killers. Hot Fuss. Live. Secret Samadhi. Peter Gabriel. Shaking The Tree. Jean Michel Jarre. Huston-Lyon Live concerts. Eminem. Slim Shady LP. Live. The Distance To Here. Collective Soul. Blender. Damien Rice. Collective Soul, Hints, allegations and things left unsaid. James Blunt. Beautiful. Live. Mental jewelry. Bob Marley & The Wailers. Legend. Stereophonics. I've not read any books this week. Though I did complete The Trials Of Lenny Bruce and I've just begun a re-read of Hunter S Thompson's classic Hells Angels. I really should begin to read Jane Austin's Pride and Predjudice and Emma, Charles Dickens' Dombey and Son, and the Sir Walter Scott tome Ivanhoe, that have sat on my bookcase for the last couple of months but I...

My legions of fans who sit anxiously and await these little snippets on the Good Ship Ross' Blog. I'm not in the mood to write very much today. Sorry and all that. It's not that I have nothing to write about, I have a huge amount of stories to tell, I just can't be arsed. I'll no doubt post something tonight after I get back from work to keep you all from sending me mail demanding that I either shit or get off the pot. Or some other equally crude way to tell me that if I'm going to claim some kind of magical gift for writing about my life I had bloody well better do it and stop fucking around. Have a nice day.

I don't often get asked out for a drink by an attractive woman. In fact I've never been asked out for a drink by any woman. Ever. Until tonight... The dynamically good looking Kirsty told me tonight that I had to come out for a drink with her in December. "Why?" I asked. "Because I want to see you drunk." She said in her sexy voice. I tried to be aloof about it all and nearly succeeded up until the point where I crumbled like a biscuit being run over by a steamroller. "So why December? If you want to see me drunk then we can go out next week." I suggested. "I won't be able to drink. I'm pregnant, remember." She remarked. I regained my smile and agreed that we'd go out and get blasted after the baby was born. I just hope my diary is clear so I can make the time to go out and get rip-roaringly wrecked with this beautiful woman. Yeah right, as if I have a social life. Clearing my Diary for any month is simpler than clearing a bl...

Following Steve's challenge for me to pay it forwards, to find someone halfway round the world and show them the best of Scottish culture and scenery, I have decided to open my door to anyone who feels like taking me up on the offer. If you are halfway around the world and feel like spending some time in Scotland just drop me a line. You never know. It may just be fun. I know that on previous occasions that I've taken a tourist around and about Edinburgh on a whim I've had a great time. And so have they. One such time was my brothers stag night. My friend Steff and I were tripping out our heads on acid and I had been knocking back double scotch and lemonade like there was no tomorrow, my brother and his friends were wrecked and my dad was complaining about the noise. I ended up befriending an American college girl. By throwing her boyfriend into a fountain. The way it happened was this... Someone let loose with the idea of handcuffing Stuart to a lamppost, taking his cloth...

I woke this morning to find the sun shining, the sky is blue and there are wispy clouds stretched out across Indian Ocean. Steve is taking Tamlyn to visit her Grandparents and Reg and I are off to the pub for a few cold beers. Reg drives us to the Mtwalume social club and as we park up outside I get to see Mtwalume in all its glory. It really is amazing. The clear blue waters of the sea and the golden light shining off the sand makes rainbows appear in the spray from the surf. I watch as the breakers roll towards the beach from far out at sea. They begin as a small swell on the surface, rise gently, turn into barrels and roll onto the beach. There is a small railroad that runs along the side of the beach and for a second my mind flashes to a place in Scotland that I know. If it wasn't for the fact that I am aware I'm in Africa I could mistake this place for there. Or at least that is what my memory causes me to think. Perhaps I am seeing things through rose colored glasses. Reg...

There are times when I can be funny and there are times when I can be really depressing. Occasionally, and I do mean occasionally, I can be insightful and verbose and use clever words. And once in a blue moon I can tap into a lightning bolt and light up the page in front of me. Which is what I think I did with my opinion on James Blunt's song " Beautiful." But that's just my opinion on my opinion. Your opinion, on either my opinion on the song or on my opinion on my opinion of my writing, may vary. That's the thing with opinions. At this very moment you may be of the opinion that I'm using the word opinion way too much in this paragraph and by doing so am causing you to wonder if that is how you spell opinion, and in my opinion you would be right. I know I'm beginning to question if I've spelled the word opinion correctly. (I just did a spell check and according to it I don't need to worry about the spelling of opinion. Or maybe that's just it...

I'm on a double shift today at work. Because of this I won't be posting very much today. Which is a shame as I have a lot I'd like to write about. There is the challenge from Jenny to write about my ideal woman , the challenge from Steve to Pay It forwards and also the challenge made by "Cupid" to ask someone out after I let loose with my opinion on speed-dating. These challenges are well worth taking up. Which I intend on attempting in the next few days, weeks, months ahead. Right now I'm going to grab an hours sleep.

And it deserves praise. I was sitting in my friend Steff's house last night as he absent-mindedly flicked through the TV channels. Suddenly stopping on one of the music channels he made the proclamation that the song that was playing was, in his opinion, "Fucking brilliant." He asked me what I thought about the song and I stated that I hadn't actually heard it. The song in question was "Beautiful" by James Blunt . Steff informed me that it would, no doubt, be on again soon and went back to flicking through the channels. Within fifteen minutes of him making the statement, that the song would be played again, he was proven to be correct. The video started playing and I listened with an interested ear. As the voice of James Blunt began singing I felt my heart break. On one side I was dying from hearing the heartache of the song and on the other I was happy that there was someone out there who wrote words about the real proclivities of love. When the song finis...

We set off early this morning as we have a long drive ahead of us. Steve, Tamlyn and I are leaving for Mtwalume today and Steph is flying up a few days later as she has some studying to do for a work project. We'll see her in a few days time. It's roughly 600km to our destination and as the speed limit is 100k's per hour we're looking at a six hour drive. Not to worry though, it gives us the chance to see some of the country. The drive to Mtwalume has me in a spell. I have never seen a country so beautiful. The veldt stretches as far as the eye can see and the sky above us is clear and blue. There is the occasional diamond mine off to the side of the highway which puts a scar on an otherwise amazing landscape. It saddens me to see that mankind's desire for bright shiny objects has scarred not only this country but it's people also. I think for a while about how many people have fought, and died, for this land over the course of history and wonder to myself if th...

And try not to lash out with the fist... I'm a patient man and I'm not a violent man. But there are times when people just get so far up my nose that the little voice in my head gets loud enough to drown out all the other thoughts in there and it screams at me... "Punch this arsehole in the mouth! Do it now! Hit him, kick him, poke him in the eyes, anything... Just do something to shut this fucking retard up!" I had an occasion like that today at work when one of the members complained that the Make Poverty History demonstration was nothing but "A bunch of leftie loonies attempting to relieve themselves of a little guilt at not having done enough recycling by snarling up the Edinburgh traffic for a day." I felt that I should set him straight so, in a cool and calm manner, I asked him if he thought it was correct that millions of kids were dying from easily cured diseases. "They're still going to die, It'll just take a little longer." He sai...

What have I created? It is with great pleasure that I announce the creation of a new blog. It's called Divemaster Dad and is the Blog of my cousin Steve whom I had the pleasure of staying with while I was on my African journey. Steve is without a doubt one of the nicest people I have ever met and I highly recommend that you read his blog on a regular basis. If you don't I'll put a burning bag of dogshit on your doorstep, ring the bell and run away. To visit DMDad just click here . You know it makes sense.

Today is the day we begin the long drive back to Johannesburg. We pack up our stuff and Steve manages to fit all into the car. I grab my notebook and a pen and hurriedly scribble a note that is going to be placed into a bottle that Steve found on the beach. The note is placed into the bottle and the top is sealed with waterproof tape. We take a drive down to the beach one last time and I attempt to throw the bottle far enough out into the water so that the incoming waves don't bring it straight back into the beach. It comes back into the shore about ten feet from where I'm standing. Steve looks at the waves and figures that the best place to launch it is slightly to the left of where my attempt took place. He hands me his sandals to hold, Rolls up his shorts slightly, walks as far out into the surf as he can manage without being swamped by the incoming waves and throws it into a trough between two waves. After making sure that the bottle doesn't come straight back to shore ...

When I came back from Africa my cousin Steve very kindly bought me a bottle of Stroh 80 Rum . It's made in Austria and it certainly eliminates the preconceived notion that the only thing that Austria ever produced worth wasting time on was Mozart, Wittgenstein and other assorted lunatics. Austria's most famous son, Arnold Schwarzenegger, is known for his strength but this rum kicks sand in his face and calls him a pussy. It's called Stroh 80 because it is 80 percent proof. It packs a whack like a pissed off fisherman and kicks like a mule would if you were to insert a read hot poker in it's rectal passage. Buy some by clicking here . And feel the burn.

I spent most of the day at the beach. Steve suggested that I give snorkeling a try. Why not, I thought, I've been almost drowned once already while on this holiday why not try for twice? Steve explained the basics of snorkeling to me and I promptly forgot them. There was something about a mask, flippers and a one way valve in there somewhere but I'm not quite sure. All I knew was that I was about to breathe while my head was submerged. A whole new and quite disturbingly scary thing as I was soon to find out. I was helped into the flippers, I can't remember the technical term for them, by Steve and was told by him to walk backwards into the sea. This, I grasped, would make it easier for me to lift my feet and not have to worry about the incoming waves catching the flippers and tripping me up. I walked backwards into the surf, waded out until I was waist deep in the sea, turned around and swam. I saw clear blue water stretching away from me. It looked as though the sea was tu...

The US F1 GP almost took place this weekend. I say almost because of the fact that due to there being issues with Michelin tyres breaking up due to the high speeds as they went through turn 13 at the Indianapolis race track a grand total of 6 (Six) cars took to the start line and proceeded to have a battle amongst themselves. Ho ho. And how would that have been for race fans who paid a couple of hundred Dollars to see what is billed as the fastest show on earth? Shite. That's what. My advice to any F1 fan is to do yourself a favor and get yourself a ticket for the nearest round of Moto GP and watch some real racing.

I was shocked and stunned today when I switched on the TV at work this morning to find out that Tom Cruise was embroiled in a squirting scandal . I was then deeply annoyed that he hadn't, as I thought, been the latest celebrity to have had a home made porn movie stolen and put onto the internet. Damn shame, I'm sure there are millions of women around the world that would pay a few bucks to witness Tom Cruise popping one off onto the face of Katie Holmes. Shit, I'd watch it. Just to see Katie Holmes flinching as Tom's cannon lets loose a volley of his man muck into her eye. Not only was I disappointed when I heard that it was merely a practical joke being played on him by a British TV company but I was even more disappointed to see that Sky News were billing it as their top story. I'm pretty sure that Tom Cruise getting a small amount of water in his face pales into insignificance when you know that there are thousands of people a day dying from a lack of clean water...

Today should have been my day off but due to my manager, Bobo, being ill I had to work this morning. Ahh well. So it goes. I don't mind doing some extra hours for Bobo as he done more than a few when I was on holiday for a month to go to Africa. And this afternoon I'm going to finish reading The Trials Of Lenny Bruce. I may even post a few more nuggets of wisdom on here to keep you amused. Isn't that nice of me? I thought so.

I log on and try desperately to think of something to write about on here. And guess what? Nothing comes to mind. Selah, so it goes. I could fill you all in on my day at work but that'd only bore both you and I. Trust me on that. There's more excitement in a bowl of Rice Crispies than there is at my work. But that's not what I'm going to write about tonight so this paragraph now comes to an end. Today's time away from work has been spent reading The Trials of Lenny Bruce and I have to say that if it weren't for Lenny Bruce a lot of American comedians would still be doing "Take my wife, please take my wife" jokes. How much Lenny Bruce went through and how much it affected, and changed, the freedom of speech laws in America is beyond belief. Should you so desire you can read more about Lenny Bruce's trial by clicking here . I know I'll be plunging my way through the transcripts of the trial when I have the time. I recommend you do too. And now a...

It's fathers day today. And what have I got for my Dad? Same as last year. Nothing. It's not that I don't like my Dad, I do, in fact I'd go so far as to say I love him. Just don't let him know I said that, he'd think I've been told I have six months to live. The main problem is this. How can I be expected to go out and buy a card with a tacky verse in it and expect it to convey everything that my dad is to me? It's fucking impossible. He knows I respect him and love him but I aint about to let hallmark do the talking for me. They write shit cards and I aint buying into all that guff that your father needs reminding that you care for him. If he's so senile that he can't remember that then he's too old and should be left to wander out of the house one night in his dressing gown and forgotten about... Seriously though, happy Fathers day Dad. Your present is in the shop. Go buy it.

Today has certainly been a day to remember. I fell in love with a town and got to visit a jail cell. Steph and Tamlyn were spending the day down on the beach and Steve and I decided to drive into Inhambane to take a wander around the town. And very nice it was too. Driving into Inhambane is an experience in itself. Before we get onto the blacktop part of the road we drive the 20k's or so of the dirt road leading out of Guinjata bay and we stop to pick up a local kid who is walking to school and a local adult who is off into Inhambane for some reason. Shanty type stalls line the road next to derelict buildings and cargo containers being used as shelter. I spot one of the containers has something written on the door. "To dress like a king is to work like a slave." Someone in this town is ahead of his time. We drop off our hitch hikers and continue into Inhambane itself. As we drive around the town I am blown away at how beautiful it is. Palm trees line the roads and the bui...

That I got myself a girlfriend. Most of my friends, my mum, my sister and my sister in law have at some point suggested that I put an ad in the local newspapers to meet people. I may be single but I'm not about to sell myself as though I was a beige Ford Cortina. Maybe it's just me but I think that I'm better off staying single unless I meet someone who lights up my soul and makes me feel truly alive. Another thing that has been suggested is speed dating. I'm not about to lower myself to that though. How in gods name can you get to know someone in the space of a minute? I pride myself on being a reasonable judge of character but I'm pretty sure even the craziest loon could act normal for a minute. I know I can. If I concentrate.

As does another day. Tonight was mayhem at work. The temperature behind the bar hit 100 degrees early on and didn't drop in the slightest. The sweat that was pouring down my back made the crack of my arse feel like it contained a river. I did have a little fun at the end of the night when I managed to get a hold of some helium balloons inhaled the contents and began shouting for the people in the bar to begin drinking up. That always makes me laugh. Apparently it's like being told to drink up by one of the smurfs. There was also the news that Kirsty is pregnant. And guess what? The Father of the baby to be has decided he doesn't need the inconvenience in his life and is going to Australia. How fucked up is that? This guy gets a very nice woman pregnant and has the audacity to leave her to bring up his child on her own. It makes me ashamed that I'm the same sex as this fucktard. Don't get me wrong now, I'm not saying that this guy is a total fuckwit. Perhaps he...

Well, I'm off to work again. Lucky me. I'll post something tonight for all of you to get your teeth into. If you have teeth that is. You may be some new hybrid alien/human beast who slurps its food rather than chewing. A bit like a pensioner who can only have steak if they whack it into a blender and hit the button normally used to make smoothies. And speaking of pensioners who need to eat through a straw... I'm off to work. Stay happy.

It's just past midday and I've been out my bed for less than an hour. Does that make me a lazy swine? Not really, I think. I have work tonight and it's gonna be busy. We've got a function on in the upstairs lounge and the Saturday Social is on for the old buggers to dance themselves into a fainting fit and drink lemonade until they fall into a sugar induced coma. I'll be working upstairs at the function so at least I'll have some women to flirt with. Damn my job is hard. Yeah sure. I'll be working with Kirsty as well so there will also be another opportunity for me to work the Douglas magic on her. Ho ho. Now that's a laugh. I have no chance. And I'm not being self defeatist either, she's too far out my league. She's a racing yacht cutting through the swell of the Adriatic proudly while dolphins breach the water at her bow and whales surface on the horizon, and I'm a remote controlled speed boat on the surface of the local municipal park ...

I did intend on writing more from my Notes From Africa series tonight but instead I've decided to leave that for a couple of days to get my inspirational juices flowing. And speaking of getting my inspirational juices flowing I really think it's about time I made the effort to take to the stage. I've warbled on for the last year or so that I'd like to do stand up as a career and if I don't do it soon I have the feeling it may just pass as another flight of fancy in the flight of fantasy that my life is. The time has come to change. Monday nights from now on I will try my best to be at The Stand Comedy Club. If I'm to be a stand up I need to be in an environment suited to being one. I'll make a conscious effort to do this. Tempus fugit, Carpe Diem and all that jazz.

It's not that long since I posted my last little snippet from planet Ross. Just a few hours really. A mere drip in the ocean on the cosmic scale of things. Once again I'm between shifts at work. I begin a whole new glorious day at the club in less than 9 hours. How much fun have I had today? Don't attempt to answer that. It was a rhetorical question, with just a hint of sarcasm. Not to worry though, I have Friday night off and am not back on shift until Saturday night at 5pm. During which time I feel I should be drinking heavily. Jolly good plan huh? What says you? "Yes" you cry out, in unison. "You don't dedicate nearly enough time to drinking heavily..." So Right at this moment I'm off to my bed to sleep. Stay happy.

I'm only home for a couple of hours between shifts at the club so I've decided I'd use the time wisely and let you all know a little bit about me. I am, as you may have noticed from my picture, a man. I'm currently running at 33 earth years in age. I may make 40, I may not. I smoke, drink and take drugs. I like good music and people who make me laugh. Things that get on my nerves; (In varying degrees.) Reality TV shows. Politicians. Organized religion. Ignorance and being ignorant. Political correctness. Closed mindedness. Uninformed opinion. Racism. Things that make me laugh: (In varying degrees.) Monty Python. Spike Milligna. Bill Hicks. George Carlin. Robin Williams. Jeff Foxworthy. Things that make me sad; (In varying degrees.) Poverty. Suffering. Heartache. Loss. Things I do to make it a better world: (In varying degrees.) Give to charity. Treat people with respect. Make people laugh. Keep an open mind. Love life. Seven people, living or dead, I'd like to spend...

And what have I done with it? Nothing. Nada. Zero. I did however go into Gorgie to the Koffee Pot for a big breakfast while I read my copy of MCN. Then it was off round to my mate Steffs. He's just bought Moto GP for the X-Box and wanted me to crack open the riders for him. I'm good at that. It's one of my favorite pastimes. Playing Moto GP, or watching it, or reading about it. And as I can't be bothered to write much more I'm off to bed. My Notes From Africa series will be continued possibly on Friday night. You'll like it. It's the one with the wide eyes of a Scottish tourist, the wild eyes of a Mozambiquan Jailer, the pained scream of a fellow guest, bribery, corruption and bad parking choice... Stay tuned.

We're off into Inhambane today to do the touristy bit. See the town, stop for lunch, do a little shopping, harass the locals. That kind of thing. Little did we know that today was the day that the president of the country was planning on paying a visit to the town and the shops were closing early so that the staff could go out into the streets with the rest of the town and spend the day driving up and down the main drag in the back of dilapidated old Iveco trucks while waving flags, singing and generally making lots of noise to celebrate his arrival. I think to myself that this is the beginning of the end for some of these people. Little do they know that democracy is just another way for the people in charge to fuck you from the day you are born. Then? The shit will hit the fan. Hard . On the outside these people look as though they measure themselves on two things; Fear and farming. Or that is the impression I get from the emblem of the country of Mozambique which is prominently...

I awoke at 8am after having good nights sleep. Perhaps this was caused by my late nights and early mornings catching up on me. I've had two great lucid dreams. I went for a walk on the beach to collect shells. There are lots of Conch shells washed up on the beach by the tide as it retreats. I spent a few hours staring out to sea. Read The Hiram Key by Christopher Knight and Robert Lomas. Went to the pub with Steve to watch the Monaco F1 Grand Prix. Fun race in the latter stages. I still think F1 is boring compared to Moto Gp. But racing is racing so I watch as the ultra fast whizz past the ultra rich. A few double Paradise Rum and Spa Letta are had. A blonde honeymooner with amazing tits sits behind me. I can see her reflection in the mirror on the wall just at the side of the TV screen. Ho ho. Should I watch the early stages of an F1 race where nothing ever happens or should I surreptitiously sneak a nice long look at this girls tits? Later on things begin to hot up. The girls bo...

This day has been reported here . I'm fucked if I'm typing it all out again.

I awoke early this morning. 2:17 to be precise. My early awakening is mainly due to the fact that the mosquitoes here have made me dish of the week and also the thunder and lightning storm that is lighting up the sky and making the beach hut shake. I slip out of bed, pull on my jeans and make my way out onto the porch to watch the storm. I've never seen a storm like this. The rain is bouncing off the sand in front of the hut as though the raindrops themselves contain an explosive charge. The sand is launched into the air as the giant drops slam into the ground and the air around me is filled with the smell of the sky being fried by the fork lightning that is flashing through the clouds like the Norse God Thor has decided to announce his arrival. The sound of the rain smashing into the surrounding foliage and beach huts is like white noise. The constant hiss is reassuring. I feel as though I am inside the womb again. The only noises that filter through the hiss of falling rain is th...

For nothing. I don't want to write, TV sucks and if I have another wank today I'll probably wither away like the head Vampire when he gets staked in the heart in some old Hammer Horror movie... Nice image to begin a post with huh? I liked it. It's the kind of thing that'll get your attention and make you go "Eeeewww" like you're a valley girl, Paris Hilton or some other kind of retarded mall rat. I'm so bored. Kinda. Bored would mean some kind of lethargy has come over me but it aint. I'm not not in the mood to do something, I'm just enjoying doing nothing. Does that make sense? Fucked if I know. I have some time off from writing and I forget how to construct a sentence. Just my luck. I'm off to bed.

My phone line has been "offline" for the last few days so I've not been able to reply to any of my mails or post on here. Perhaps I should have paid the bill sooner... Selah. It's been a dull week this week. Nothing much very exiting has happened. Nada. Nix. Zero. I've just finished reading Digital Fortress by Dan Brown and have spent the last day going through the Da Vinci Code with a highlighting pen so I can take a look at the bigger story that is hidden within. I particularly want to read up Leonardo Da Vinci as he seemed like an amazing human being. A bit nuts perhaps, but crazy people are always more colorful. Fuck beige. The other thing from the Da Vinci Code I want to look into more is the number PHI . I'm not very good at math but I'll sure as hell try to get a laymans grasp of what this number is all about. Now I'm off to lie down for a bit.

Steve arrived yesterday for a few days in Edinburgh after having flown out from south Africa on the same day as Tamlyn and I. He went over to Ireland to surprise his sister Angie for her 40th birthday. My Dad is taking us out to see Roslyn chapel as Steve wanted to go and see it. I'm also very interested at the thought of it since reading the Da Vinci Code and also two books by Christopher Knight and Robert Lomas called The Hiram Key and The Second Messiah . After seeing Roslyn Chapel we drive back into town to meet up with my cousin Brian as he has arranged a meal at the Veranda restaurant Beer is drunk and a nice curry is had. After the meal my Dad, Brian, Steve and I walk across the road to Ryries to have a drink while we wait for Tamlyn to arrive from Fife by train. The plan is to meet up with Tamlyn and her boyfriend Scott and then head along to the open mic night at the comedy club. The plan doesn't quite go as it should. Tamlyn arrives and more drinks are bought. Stev...

I think I may be slightly hungover. I don't know if it was the six packs Steve and I drank last night or the rum and cokes I sat drinking until 4am while chatting to Tamlyn or it's due to the fact that I've not smoked as many cigarettes as I normally do. Whatever it is I'm coughing my lungs up and have a pounding headache. The second day in Guinjata bay has been spent at the beach splashing about in the surf, snorkeling and sunbathing. The beach here is awesome. There is nothing to look at but the golden sand and the waves as they lap the shore. The sand under my feet squeaks. I've never known sand to do this. It's bizarre. After a few hours on the beach we go back to the hut and get ready to go to the pub for a couple of drinks and a few games of darts. Steve digs his GPS gadget out and informs me exactly where I am in the world. I'm sitting at South 24 degrees 4 minutes .437 seconds East 35 degrees 29 minutes .783 seconds. I joke that in a thousand years t...

There is a lot of hooha in the news this week about Bob geldof's call for a million people to descend on Edinburgh to make their voices heard in the fight to clear the debts of the poorer countries around the world. The Police force ( Who are voting on whether to take strike action ) and the Edinburgh Council have said that calling for a million people to drop into Edinburgh to show their support for this cause is irresponsible . Council Leaders and Senior Police officers have voiced their concerns about the safety of those involved in the march and also of residents of Edinburgh. As an Edinburgh resident I would like to add my opinion to this debate. So, here goes... To all of those people out there who are thinking of coming to Edinburgh to show your support for the Make Poverty History campaign... Feel free to come along. The more people we have here marching peacefully the better. If you find yourself caught short and cannot take a piss behind a tree or find a nearby public to...

Work tonight was brightened considerably with the arrival of a new barmaid. Kirsty. Damn she's hot. "Smokin Hot" would be the more apt phrase to use here but she has this web address and I'd hate for her to think I'm blowing smoke up her arse if she reads this. Normally good looking women aren't very gifted in the depth department but from our small conversations and my HST test questions I'd say she has more depth than the normal run of the mill looks-like-she-could-be-a-model type. Surprising really. She's also written a song so she's not afraid of creating something from the heart. Always a good sign if you ask me. Work was quiet and the more hours I spend there the more my memories of Africa fade into the fog of the past. So it goes. That's life. But on a positive note I do always have my notes on Africa to read through and I can use them as an aid to memory. The wicked witch of the west (Shirley) was her usual self. Bitter and twisted. But...

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