Good Sleep

Surprising how much of a difference a couple of good night’s sleep can make.

There is a bus depot near the front of my flat and some train tracks out the back.  So, I’ve had my fair share of bus drivers coming off shift, having loud conversations with their colleagues or indeed having tiffs with their wives at 2am.  There is also a “Chelsea Tractor Train” and “El Aggregato” two trains whose passing actually shakes the flat.  Even if you get used to the noise, your sleep is probably still disturbed.  You might not wake up but you’re still not getting that 7 or so solid hours of sleep.

Until now that is, engineering works and delays to the train lines behind my house.  I never thought that those words would be such music to my ears, but right now, no trains.

Yesterday I woke up and in my post-slumber stupor noticed that I didn’t feel quite the same as I had in previous mornings.  That punch-drunk feeling and stumbling around wasn’t actually there and surprisingly, I actually felt quite good.  Needless to say I was soon bouncing around feeling “ten feet tall and bulletproof”.  It’s not just me.  The usual morning exercise to get Annie kicking and screaming from bed in the mornings has not been the same, and she voluntarily got out of bed yesterday.

The best news of all is that the engineering works will continue until the day that Annie and I move out of London.  Whohoo.  Here’s to feeing good in the mornings.

Finally Married!

My wedding happened on the 23rd of August, a couple of weeks ago, for all of you who have found your way here and are after wedding photos can find them here. Special mention to Shaun Edwards here, part photographer, part stand-up comedian who did a great job of getting the best out of us on the day.

Many thanks to all who came along and those who weren’t there, the weather was good, the speeches were short, and fun was had by all.  Peter Optical did a wonderful job on the day, the kids who were there loved him and my thanks to him for a job well done.  If any of you need an entertainer for a wedding or any event (especially if ya got kids around) you’ll get a glowing reference from my wife and I.

It’s rare that a wedding goes off without a hitch, but this wedding did.  I put it down to the staff of the Mill House Hotel where we were wedded.  Ever professional, they did everything we needed on the day, from shepherding us from place to place and ensuring we were where we needed to be when we needed to be there.

To be honest the day itself passed in something of a flash, and it felt like I arrived, did a bit of Taiji and then Annie and I were falling asleep.  All that comes back to me are snapshots and highlights rather than the stream of consciousness that I usually remember.

I have to say that I can see why wedding days are set up to be that one perfect day.  I honestly felt like a celebrity that day.  I’m not one to usually be caught up in events, but I honestly couldn’t take my eyes off Annie that day.  Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe the way she looked.

Perhaps the most profound thing that happened that day was the realisation that with marriage, something does indeed change.  Annie and I already live together so there won’t be a period of adjustment where we figure out whether or not leaving the toilet seat up leads to quarrels.  We’re past all that.  I honestly thought that weddings are just for everyone else, making that promise to each other and to the world.

I am pleased that I stand corrected, because I honestly feel different now, and I know Annie feels different too.  It’s like everything has changed even though nothing has, having a wedding to celebrate this new beginning made me realise exactly how important that promise is, however you make it.  The days prior to getting this ring on my finger felt like holding my breath, and now that Annie and I are man and wife, it feels like we can finally exhale and start the next breath, as they say, the start of the rest of our lives.

The best bit till last the funnies.  One guest, bless him, woke up at 11:30 the morning of the wedding and called up the Best Man, having looked at the invitation and screamed “What was he thinking?  The wedding’s not even in London!” and somehow made it to Reading with half an hour to spare.  And to date, my wedding is the first wedding anyone’s dared invite him to.  You know who you are Dan, and it was an honour to see you there

My Aunt Monica’s husband is called Lorrain, without the “e” and someone made the mistake of asking her “where her partner was” on the day, to which she curtly replied “He’s my husband!”, something she should perhaps never have told Kat as my aunt now is apparently an honorary member of the cult of Sappho.

Little Evie, in all her cuteness giggled the audible “Hee Hee” just as the registrar was talking about the importance of marriage to the two of us.  It’s good to know that at the tender age of almost one and a half, she already knows how to send up the marriage vows.  Remember that little lady, I’ll be doing the same to you at your wedding.

Last of all I have to mention my own dear sister Kristinn, the Iron Lady, the Mighty Atom, graced us with a rare show of emotion.  I hadn’t realised exactly how appropriate our choice of “Tears of Joy” was as a track to do the readings to.  I have never seen my sister weep for joy, and it is a very moving thing to see how happy she was (and still is) for me that I was finally getting married.  It was a beautiful thing, and another of those moments you remember for a lifetime.

Foreplay

“Bast”

 “Venus”

“Eros”

 “Aphrodite”

“Diana”

 “Diana? Wasn’t she goddess of the hunt?”

“Yes and she also represented chastity.”

“How does she fit in to the game?”

“I thought the rule was to keep pinging names in increasing order of how erotic they were.”

 ”Well yes, but how does Diana supplant Aphrodite, goddess of love and sexuality?”

 “Because she’s the ultimate tease. Always appearing naked, nubile and chasing her prey, yet she represents chastity. She’s got that whole Catholic girl thing going, pretending to be really innocent and pure when in fact they’re actually a really dirty shag.”

 “Oh it’s that way is it?”

 “I’ll take that as acceptance. It’s your turn now.”

 “That’s hardly fair! You’ve moved the goalposts at the last minute.”

 “It’s totally fair, I do think that Diana because of her unaccessibility ranks above the others in the grand scale of eroticism. It’s a man thing.”

 “Alright, then I nominate God.”

 “Which God?”

 “God, as in the subject of the biggest fiction of all time.”

 “How is he an object of erotic desire?”

 “Well as the creator of all things, he invented sex. Think of the sorts of things that had to go through his head to dream up something like that. Besides, he’s the only entity I know of with the capability for astrally projecting his cock.”

 “What?”

 “Yeah, how do you think he got Mary up the duff? She must have had some sort of payoff for landing the gig as the messiah’s mum and all. I’ll bet she did a fair amount of coming in the name of God. I wonder what happened the night of the immaculate conception.”

 “I don’t believe this.”

“Believe it, slave. Now don’t give me that look, you Catholic boys always act so righteous. Now go down on me then I want you to fuck me senseless.”

Ada

Whilst on the subject of dating disasters, I’ve had dates where I’ve been a total bastard, and I’ve had dates where she’s been a total bitch. The one I regret the most is one where defeat was snatched from the jaws of victory, it was the sort of date that leaves you looking back on with a wistful eye, wondering what might have been.

Ada and I met through a social at university. She was a lovely girl, beautiful and a lot smarter than me. If she was cleverer than I was, and still wanted to see me then I wouldn’t have to worry about impressing her with the weight of my intellect (or the size of my Good Character). A post-graduate at Girton college Cambridge, she knew lots about lots and she used the most wonderful language. I’m 5′4″ and she was about 5′10″ not that it bothered either of us. We got on like a house on fire. We’d only met at university socials organised by the society we both belonged to that had branches in IC and Cambridge, and we’d send each other rather long emails almost daily until the time I decided enough was enough, we should meet.

She was and probably still is an amazing girl, and I’m sure she’s made a man very happy.

No gem is flawless, and Ada had but one. She spoke with a very strong lisp, and every now and again, she would launch projectiles at you. Now this isn’t so much of a problem for me as someone with appalling social skills had hitherto made do with the 3rd daughter of Quasimodo. Compared to all who had gone before, Ada was in all respects a gleaming jewel.

We were in Belgo, and me having a hearing problem, I had to lean forward to hear her speak, and there came a point in the evening when I was suddenly transfixed by a globule of spittle gathering in the corner of her mouth as she spoke. It launched itself at me, and to my shame I ducked. Call it a martial artist’s combat reflex to avoid a (large) incoming projectile.

That was when I discovered exactly how sensitive she was about it. Apparently one of the reasons she liked me so much had been because I never made an issue of it and having ducked, it kind of popped the bubble, so much so that there really wasn’t anything left to salvage.

Needless to say, I’ve never seen her again.

Lipstick

Her name was Katherine.  We’d met randomly in a supermarket of all places.  I’m too short to reach the top shelf and had to ask her to get that jar of pickles off the top shelf.  As fate would have it, we had very similar shopping lists and ended up bumping into each other a lot in the supermarket.  Courage got the better of me and asked her what dish she was going to cook with all those ingredients and she offered to cook me her chicken Kievs if I returned the favour with whatever it was I was intending to cook.

You’ll be pleased to know that my evening’s culinary improvisation didn’t blow up in my face.  I’ve always been good at shooting from the hip and the garlic chicken deep fried in breadcrumbs with a spicy ketchup sauce went down a storm if I might say so myself.  Katherine was clearly impressed.  Her Kievs weren’t exactly that scintillating, but being the gentleman I am, I refrained from giving constructive criticism because I fancied my chances after a bottle and a half of wine.  Maybe it was the wine talking but this girl somehow managed to make grating cheese sound sexy.  OK it was the wine talking.  I won’t bore you with the euphemisms flying back and forth in our conversation, the important fact to realise was that I knew I was in there.

There is a time when a man must decide when to act, and got her to the sofa, I planted a passionate kiss on her lips.  Katherine was a good kisser, and I was somewhere “out there” till she opened her yes and jolted me back from that out of body experience with a scream.  Not the sort fo scream that indicates a damsel in distress who requires rescuing from a mouse or spider.  It was the sort of scream you let off when you blink and suddenly find  Freddie Krueger in front of you.

“Wud iz id?” was all that could come out of my mouth.

“You!” she said.

It’s at this point that my forebrain woke up and had managed to collate the information available.  My mouth wasn’t working properly and a quick glance in the mirror revealed a face that would easily have won the world guerning championship.  Half my face had swollen up.

She kicked me out after that, insisting that her boyfriend would be home after the night shift (totally untrue, not that I’d be afraid of him).  Although unkind, uncharitable and uncompassionate that response was not altogether unforgivable.  She’s got the shock of her life after watching me turn from nice cooking guy into I don’t know what.

I zipped off to the nearest hospital to have it looked at.  I had a face that could scare small children and render people blind.  On the bus, kids either hid from me and their parents pretended I wasn’t there.  Quite shocking really, your face puffs up and everyone treats you like a monster, but to cut a long story short the doctors in casualty took a look at me and started giggling.  Apparently I was allergic to Katherine’s lipstick.  Hyper-allergic to it.  They gave me some steroid cream and told me to go home and wait it out.

I took some photos of it for posterity.  I told my boss on Monday morning that I couldn’t come in because I’d discovered I was allergic to women.  I don’t think he was convinced.

Dangerous Pies

Photo by sashertootie

Every now and again something happens that turns into a story you tell you grandchildren. This one happened the day I moved into my first house.

Buying your first house in the UK is a rite of passage. Swelling house prices effectively price most of us out of the market, so I was delighted when I found something affordable on a council estate. The neighbours weren’t too friendly and the local youths liked to make faces at the new people and throw empty drink cans into our front yard. It was still, however my house, and I’d even found a lodger to help with the mortgage payments. The first day we moved in we were too tired to cook, so we opted for a blast from the past, student food of the into-the-oven-and-wait kind.

As we waited for the oven to work its magic we naturally started to reminisce about our old student days. The asbo kids were at it again, and every now and again we’d hear a clang of sorts from somewhere. I didn’t have the energy to tell them to go away so I just ignored them. The conversation naturally made its way to student food and I wistfully remembered those Fray Bentos pies I used to eat all the time. They’re basically a canned pie. You take the top off the can and stick it in gas mark 6. Twenty minutes later hey presto! Zero effort pie.

Chris’s eyes went wide when I told him this.

“You take the top off?”

It was at that point that the source of the clanging noises became apparent. We were lucky we rescued the can before it exploded. Thankfully diffusing a pie-bomb consists mainly of leaving it to cool.  I can’t believe that he actually ate the pie after getting creative with the tin-opener

Learning How To Cook

Phoito by BPheonix

“I haven’t failed, I’ve just figured out 10,000 ways it doesn’t work” - Thomas Edison.

This maxim from the lightbulb inventor sums up what you have to go through when you start any endeavour from a zero knowledge base. I was never taught how to cook, not because I didn’t want to, but because I suspect my mother thought it was “womens’ work”. My beef against gender inequalities aside, I remember being thrust into the world without any appreciation for what skills were required to produce something edible let alone tasty.

As with any discipline or art, there are basics that must be understood. Fundamentals like what cooked chicken should look and taste like, that you don’t microwave eggs, oil and water don’t mix have to be somewhere in the memory bank. Thing is, it doesn’t occur to anyone to tell you these things, they’re considered so simple, so obvious.

Learning how to cook from zero is a bit like learning a Tai Chi form from half a book in a foriegn language.
When I started, something that resembled a small war began between me and the kitchen.

Here are some of the highlights:

1) The Armour Plated Roast Chicken – A chicken so solid that even a razor-sharp Sabatier couldn’t cut it.
2) The Egg Hand Grenade - Egg + microwave. I still have some eggshell embedded next to my spine that the surgeons say is too risky to remove.
3) Chip pan napalm – That day I learnt to appreciate my eyebrows.
4) Kevlar Beef Steak – It’s amazing that overcooking beef can render it bulletproof
5) The Abhominable Riceman – Wet rice and hot oil make Tannage an abhominable riceman.
6) The Battle of the Bolognese – A phyrric victory indeed. It tasted of curtains.

My flatmate jokes that I spent more time cleaning up after myself than actually cooking.
None of the above are actually difficult to cook, I was not trying to be Gordon Ramsay. I was just well, incompetent.
This story thankfully has a happy ending and I did one day achieve that dish that did not taste like torture to eat.

My recipe for edible cooking was:

Tom as my hero
50 hours of Can’t Cook, Won’t Cook
The Patience of a saint
1 flatmate that will eat anything (and tell you it’s terrible if it is)

Mix together and leave for one year (I’m a slow learner) and by the end of it, you’ll probably be able to produce something edible.

So mothers, save your sons a year of misery! Teach them how to cook!

The Secret To a Stress-Free Wedding

Photo by Jeff Belmonte

Weddings, in my experience usually do one of two things to people. They either bring out the worst in people, or they bring out the worst in people.

It’s not hard to see why, it’s usually the first time we have to organise an event on time, to budget with multiple stakeholders each of whom probably has a different agenda. When Annie said “yes” the “What have I let myself in for?” question did flicker through my loved up brain. The wedding preparations, looking at family precedents were times of great gnashing of teeth, rending of hair and sorrow. The thought of it filled me with dread.

On my wedding day I want to be married, not stressed. Kicking off the rest of your life with the most stressful day of your life is not necessarily the most auspicious thing to do.

Heaven as they say, provides. I found the secret of a stress-free marriage, the Rosetta Stone of wedding preparation bliss in the project management course my boss sent me on.

All the secrets were in that course, tried and tested techniques that professional project managers have been using for decades. Regular reviews, communication channels, critical path analysis, stakeholder analysis and expectation management. It was all there, just waiting to be used.

The wedding’s six months away and so far, so good… no stress.

Biggest benefit for me is that Annie doesn’t have to nag me to call the photographer when I’m wandering round Azeroth. She can nag me when we have the meeting so I don’t get annoyed at random naggings. Equally I don’t have to complain about the amount of money we’re spending because we talk about it and keep track of it at the meeting.

Bliss reigns in the House of Tannage.

So, all of you who are planning a wedding, get yourself Project Management For Dummies

Happy Birthday To Me

Today is my birthday. I’ve been the wrong side of 30 for 2 years now.

“Oh my Gawd! Another year shot to hell! What am I doing with my life! I’m another year closer to me grave!”

Now that that’s over (It’s just cultural conditioning anyway) I’ve settled down to a calmer state of mind. Age comes to us all, it’s a natural process but we’re all out there fighting it with all our might. Anti-wrinkle cream, botox, cosmetic surgery, all sorts of things to make us appear younger. It’s like getting older is a disease to be fought.

It’s amazing that people still do this even though they know they can’t win!

I have a different take on getting older. I’ve always been cursed with very useful looks, and people used to ask me for ID to enter clubs when I was 25!

Why do I swim against the flow? I welcome getting older because with it comes a little more authority in life.

Firstly, everyone treats you like a kid. For some reason people don’t take you as seriously if you look like a kid, no matter how well you know your stuff. It’s a perception, you’re young and can’t possibly know the ins and outs of this project we’re doing. It makes you look like a little twat with a big mouth.

Secondly, women think you are “cute”. But not in the “cute ass I want to bite it” way. I was seen as a bit of a cute teddy bear. The truth was that I really did look like a fresh-faced cutesey little man. Huge problem when dating, because you only seem to draw the attention of the middle-aged divorcee who’s looking for a toyboy she can corrupt. Those of you who know me, will probably realise that I have a mind like a sewer (Used to compensate for the lack of sex in my adult life) and they rapidly lose interest when they realise that the toy-boy is shop-soiled.

Both the above are now moot, I seem to have beaten (literally) some credibility into my colleagues and am now engaged to a wonderful woman who remarkably doesn’t mind the mental septic-tank. I am no longer neurotic about my age although I do look forward to the day that I am old enough to be really badly behaved, and have the authority such that nobody will question me!

Photo by ninjapoodles

All Is Fair in Love and Warcraft

Photo by Rance Costa

I have never understood why men fabricate their professions when picking up women.  My friends have been everything from dolphin trainers to fighter pilots.  What’s the point of starting the relationship by pretending to be something you’re not?  IT Support isn’t very sexy but it’s the truth!
Fate, however has a funny way of making you eat your words.  I met my wife to be whilst pretending to be a bald man in a dress with icy magical powers.

In fact, we didn’t even meet in the real world.  We met in the World of Warcraft.  You can be an undead invisible backstabbing thief, a green-haired gnome with demonic minions or walking cow.  The only limit is your imagination!

We first said “Hi” to each other on one of WoW’s chat channels.  I don’t remember exactly when as I was probably trying to dispatch a giant mutated bat at the time and it kind of snowballed from there.  I didn’t have to try too hard to impress her, I was already a dragon-slaying wizard who commanded an army.  To someone who’s just started out in WoW, that meant demi-god.  She didn’t have to worry about what she’d wear to our next dungeon run (i.e. date), or indeed if her bum looked big in those new leather pants, the game makes you look perfect all the time.  It was chesily romantic, I could literally be that hero who waves his fingers and turns the monster into a sheep before dispatching it to the sweet hereafter with a torrent of mighty arcane powers.

As you know, I’m all for honesty, but private chat channels make chatting a bit easier.  If someone thinks you’re a total loser because you were honest about your toenail clipping collection (not that I have one), then it’s OK, you never have to meet them.  Maybe the total honesty was due to the fact that lies take headspace to craft, and when you’re trying to trying to command an army, kill stuff, and stay alive you don’t have the psychic bandwidth to process a falsehood.

WoW dating does have some pitfalls.  You have to guess whether someone’s interested in you.  Maybe it was the fact that I was prepared to travel halfway across the world to help her out in quests, or perhaps that chats went on for 4 hours and 38 minutes.  And yes I did miss her a lot when she went on holiday.  The game felt somehow disappointing when that little ding accompanied by a small chat window didn’t appear. 

I think we both knew we liked each other, so after over a year of chatting in WoW, we decided to meet up.

The path to love is never smooth.  The hitch was I had forgotten to ask Annie what she looked like.  It’s an excusable oversight as when you get comfortable with conversing with someone in one medium it doesn’t always occur to you to obtain vital bits of information for real life.  I should have said that I’d be the one with the keyboard or something, but as it happened, I spent about 30 minutes asking random women outside Gloucester Road tube whether they were Annie.

The rest, as they say has passed into lore.