AndyBlog

Taco Teatime

Chemically similar to an enchilda, the crispy Taco offers a lighter and more TL friendly approach to the important business of consuming Mexican food.

It was a surprisingly messy experience, I'm glad to say. The crispy Taco shells, once fully loaded with ground beef, salad, salsa and cheese, simply exploded when bitten into. Thank goodness there are no pictures, because I felt like a 2 year old - covered in much food all over my face.

It was actually a secret and uncontroversially sexual pleasure for me. I wish it wasn't, but there it is. Try not to dwell on me, with food wiped all over my face, quietly enjoying it far too much.

OK, stop that right now.

What I think would be more fun would be the tostada/burrito salad. That crispy pastry basket makes a wonderful home for lettuce, onions, peppers, tomatoes, salsa, guacamole, cheese and sour cream.

I could eat one right now - with a few Jalapenõs of course.  Mmmm....maybe just shove the whole lot straight at my face, letting the cool guacamole slide into every crevice...............oh my.

I have to end this now.

Cold Turkey: UPDATE: UPDATE!

OK, here as promised: “Letting you know”.

I managed about two days of no pain killers before I threw in the towel. Not a bad effort, all considered, and I learned some stuff.

1) The pain I feel is very real.
2) It's unlikely that I am hooked on pain killers.
3) Stopping them has no other side effects than pain. No sickness, no wooziness etc.
4) Ah well, but.... stopping does seem to make me poo a lot.
5) In some ways, stopping feels good.

I suppose item six would be that starting again after two days off is pretty amazing. I realised that I was getting less sleep each night, the second night being down to 3 hours, and that my prospects of sleep on the third night were pretty remote because of discomfort. In short, I had no option but to take the infernal pills again.

I also learned that I could just about hack 48 hours without them if I had to. It's not nice being a slave to tablets, so it is useful for me to know that I don't actually lose my mind for a couple of days.

On one level I would have liked to go for longer without in order to observe how my body dealt with and reacted to sustained severe pain with no relief, but alas TL is nothing like a concentration camp doctor and offered me only support through the whole process.

I feel I should look into alternative medication which does not rot my guts as badly, so I will seek Doctorial advice. In the meantime, I have changed my pill-taking habits in order to have a clear head for as much of the day as possible and to sleep really well.

I now take pills in the late afternoon and night only. It's working so far.

You can open your eyes again now, Jason. The whining “Oooh, look at me and my pain” posting is over. :)

Amazing Rainbow

Please go HERE to view the full gob-smacking series of shots.

The guy is one amazing photographer, and he hit upon the most perfect rainbow ever.

Cold Turkey: UPDATE

It's been forty hours since I decided to cease my painkillers entirely. I figured you might be wondering how I am doing.

Well...

I'm OK, I guess. Nothing dramatic, just lots of pain. Pretty much as expected. The interesting thing is deciding where to go from here. Not sure how long I can keep this up. Still, who knows - it might get better from here on in.

I'll let you know.

Arya - Persian Night

Here we are, back at Arya for A special Persian Night. As we entered promptly, soon after seven, the music was already blasting out very loud. We were not the first there, but the room was pretty empty. I took the picture on the left soon after arrival.

Our super-cool DJ in the corner, near to where the Naan bread is normally made (alas, not tonight...), believe only in one volume setting: Unbearably loud. Surely in these early stages of the night we were to be allowed a little conversation? Seemingly not.

Still, none of that mattered as the room quickly filled and the dancing began. Unbelievably, the music then got louder. The atmosphere began to be just right for dancing, and I really wish that I had the ability to get up there and swing my pants. Sadly, such pleasures are not currently allowed me, but maybe in the future my legs will become sufficiently tamed to be able to manage a quick Persian boogie here and there.

I certainly hope so.

And they danced.....and they danced.....and they danced.....  They danced for two and a half hours straight, actually. It became clear that if one was not a dancer, this may not be the ideal night to be at. The atmosphere was great though, and those who were able to dance looked like they were having a wonderful time.

At about half past nine there was a beautiful buffet meal consisting of pasta salad, lamb stew with lqdies finger, buttered rice and lamb kebab. Not a big selection of dishes, but each one to Arya's fabled high standard.

There was just time to enjoy a Shisha with our friends P&D, before beating something of a retreat as the dancing cut back in again at even higher volume. It was quite an experience, but one that would better suit people who loved to dance.

We all resolved to return there for a proper meal, whilst exchanging stories of the people we had entertained ourselves by watching. Now, that was fun...

The Moors

I went up to the moors the other day, “The Tops” my father used to call them, and he used to drive this way every day as he commuted from the town of Holmfirth to Manchester where he worked. This brave cyclist has already completed a fair climb out of Holmfirth, but there's still a long way to go before he reaches the flatter parts on the very top of the moor, before he drops down into Oldham and then Manchester.

Believe it or not, I have cycled this very route myself, visiting my Dad at the university before riding back. I remember getting caught on the urban motorway in Manchester and stopped by the Police. I had no idea I was on a motorway, but somehow managed to find another less familiar way there. It's possible I was quite tired on the way home. Cycling in Yorkshire is rather unforgiving.

The exertion is worth it for the views, in my opinion. The moors are a harsh environment, that's for sure, but when the sun shines, they are crowned with a kind of majestic ruggedness that is not to be seen elsewhere. It's hard not to be impressed by the bleakness and the difficulty of existence in this environment, yet plenty seems to survive here.

From wild flowers and moor grass to the ever-present sheep, the moors manage to support more fauna and flora than anyone might think possible on a quick drive through on a rainy day.

Phobia of the day

AMATHOPHOBIA - Fear of dust

It must be pretty miserable to be phobic about dust. It's just about everywhere. These poor blighters have to set up camp in a CD manufacturing facility, or somewhere else that has to be completely dust free. As a result they watch far to much TV, spend too much time on the internet and often die of telemarketing.

In reality, of course, dust is actually very nutritious, yet possessing virtually no calories at all - so it's very much their loss.

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These days no-one is complete without a modern and fashionable phobia. If you haven't already kitted yourself out with one, watch these pages. Phobia of the day will bring you the very best in psychological over-reaction. All you have to do is pick out the phobia for you. Easy.  :)

Am I hooked?

This has been bothering me for a while.

For the last few years not one day has gone by when I have not taken a pretty hefty dose of pain killers. I take Paracetamol, Di-Hydrocodeine and sometimes Morphine Sulphate solution.

When moving down to Huddersfield recently, I noted that my first thought was how to guarantee a fresh supply of these pain killers. The thought of being without was the thing that most scared me. I simply could not bear to think that I might be without the drugs which have literally kept me going.

Then it hit me that I was thinking and acting just like a drug addict.

Sure, I still suffer from pain from my legs which is quite disabling at times, particularly at night. Sure, I still have the condition that I am being 'treated' for - but could it be that I am also addicted to the pain killers which have enabled me to have a more normal existence?

I resent the constantly upset stomach that I have. I hate that I have to eat something each time I take pills in order to prevent heartburn and I simply do not like being at the beck and call of these tablets.

Can I survive without them? I have to find out. It is now 13 hours since my last dose.

I'll let you know.

Andy Curtis: Writer

I have long aspired to be a book writer - a writer of tomes. The thought of penning great and intricate stories which captivate the reader and usher them into my own wonderful world is as captivating now as it was when I was but a small child, writing meaningless letters on the backs of pieces of card taken from packets of my mother's  tights.

Though definitely utter nonsense, being just scribbles with the occasional letter, to me they were required reading - at least for me. I knew what they said, and would cheerfully 'read' them to anyone who would listen. Each reading was a fresh opportunity for me to construct the spoken nonsense which has never entirely left me, even to this day.

My literary progress has been less than spectacular since those prolific days. Back then, I was capable of over four ladies hosiery card-backs a day, sometimes more. Impressive, some would say, although surprisingly few. The simple fact is that my ambitions have never been realised, despite many grand and undeniably well-intended attempts to pen something of significance.

I neither have the time to commit, nor the vision for anything larger than, say, a pamphlet. This thought gave rise to my current inspiration. I have held back from publicising my aspirations here, lest my feelings change or turn out to be some sort of short-lived fad.

It's realistic, pithy and achievable. If everyone has one book in them - surely that means we can each comfortably manage at least half a dozen pamphlets? If the book stores took the idea on, we could open the door to easily affordable short term reading matter. (STRM) It's always hard to make that £8.99 decision, but a 75p decision would be far more straightforward. Mainly because it's cheaper. Vive la pamphlet!

I have a few titles brewing, which I will share - and please do send in your suggestions for topics which would comfortably be served by the writing of a short and entertaining pamphlet. I will pick out the most engaging, either by dint of humour or usefulness - or both, and pen a proper, printable pamphlet.

1: Prayer: A Surprisingly Practical Guide For Atheists And Agnostics
2: Bombing: Why You Probably Shouldn't.
3: Air Travel: Handy Tips For The Obese
4: Appearing To Be Busy When Actually Completely Idle: Advanced Notes And Info

Andy Curtis: Writer

Andy Curtis: Pamphlet Writer

Laughing Out Loud

Over the years, I have “spoken” to TL on various messaging services for what must now amount to a great many hours. Obviously, now that we live together, that time has decreased markedly, but we still indulge in the odd textual exchange from micro-shack to micro-shack.

We find, however, that a problem has presented itself.

Those who know me well will be aware of my constant and highly effective attempts at humour. Imagine my surprise, when making one of my *classic* humorous quips, that whilst I saw the text returned from TL's console in the adjoining room: “LOL” (Laughing Out Loud) - yet heard no actual laughing sound whatsoever.

We made a couple of exchanges via text, after which a rather forced and guttural sound was heard to come from next door.

I waited till she stopped farting, and then resumed my rhetoric.

Eventually, the required laughter was heard, albeit rather insincere. The next day, I was caught in the same manner. I issued the “LOL” and immediately regretted it, as did TL my extremely loud and insincere haw-haw'ing.

Yesterday, we arrived at a solution which brings honesty and peace to our short-distance textual communication. (SDTC)

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you: “QL”