Okay, I have a confession to make. I have been busy, but not with real life. I was doing some random surfing and came across an on-line game at www.cybernations.com. It's insane. There are teenagers with nuclear weapons doing tech raids. Really. I'm hooked. I have a small nation called New Gosford and I have taken on the persona of President President. That's what I've been doing for the past two weeks. I haven't read the news, seen my step son, stroked my cat and have barely talked to my wife. Dear gods, what is happening to me?

Bad food

There is a front page story in today's Independent about waste in the food industry. Follow this link for the story http://news.independent.co.uk/environment/article2175016.ece. They are running a campaign to reduce the amount of packaging the food industry uses. It is worthwhile and I urge anyone reading this to join in. I've seen the shrink wrapped turnips myself and it is completely absurd. Turnips are all but indestructable and the shrink wrap is rather difficult to get into. It's completely bizarre. It's also only part of the story when it comes to waste in the food industry.

I think part of the reason for excess packaging is the consumer's deep spiritual need for perfect food. Everything has to look like it's come straight off the front page of a lifestyle cook book. Carrots and courgettes can only be bought if they look fit to nestle in Nigella Lawson's bosom. The big supermarkets have very tight specifications for fruit and vegetables and reject anything which doesn't meet them. It could be that the carrots are slightly mis-shapen, or the apples are too large or too small. It is seldom because the food is spoiled. The rejected consignments are returned to the supplier which is expensive in both cash and food miles terms.

There is also the problem of what we ourselves do with all the food we buy and do not actually consume. Think about what sits in the bottom of your fridge. There's probably at least half a pepper and a bag of washed salad leaves. How long do you keep it before you just chuck it in the bin? And I bet you just go and get some more. Retailers are obliged to dispose of food which has gone past its sell by date. Please follow this link to the Guardian's website for some more on the problem http://environment.guardian.co.uk/waste/story/0,,1985320,00.html.

The article says that Britain disposes of 15 million tons of food every year. 15 million tons. Think about it. It all has to be grown, tended, paid for, transported several times and then it just ends up in landfill. It's immoral.

Typical really

I had a fantastic idea for a post this morning. It was cogent, politically daring and wittily expressed. Unfortunately, I had to race out the door for my first appointment of the day (Waterstone's in Cambridge in case you were interested) so I left it in my head to mature over the course of the day. It hasn't so much matured as mouldered and fallen apart, a bit like one of those bog mummies which haven't been properly curated. I can't for the life of me think what I was supposed to be blogging about. I can't remember what triggered the thoughts in the first place. It may have been something I heard on the radio this morning. Maybe it was last night. Or at the weekend. I could have been something I read at the weekend. That last one is a bit unlikely - I'm reading one of Lindsey Davis' Falco books and it's far too funny to have conjured serious political thoughts.

So, the lesson of the day is to take a note of things as they occur to me.

Having a life style, or having a life

It's not as if I had planned to do anything, so doing nothing should not be a problem. It is though. I feel my weekends should be full of Fun. I spend the week working my arse off (just in case Boss falls across this) so I think my weekends should be spent doing all the things I want to do. Invariably, they are spent farting about, reading a book or two, visiting a cafe on Mill Road with a spot of hunter-gathering at Tesco thrown in for luck.

Why can't I have a life style? I used to. I went the gym and enjoyed it. No, really I did. It wasn't just that there were lots of twenty-something Lycra gym bunnies to watch - although that helped. I liked the whole experience from arriving in the car park, swapping chat with the receptionists, nodding to the guys in the changing rooms and all the effort I put my body through on the equipment. There was a sauna, steam room and a big whirlpool bath where I could chat with the guys afterwards. I used to cycle through woods. I used to visit bars. My time was filled, but my life was empty.

Once I met my Beloved, my life changed. None of that seemed necessary. I was a bit busy with travelling between our homes and even when I had time to sit in one place I didn't feel the need for anything else. I used to have a life style because I didn't have a life.

Now that I have a life, I need things to do. I feel at a bit of a loose end when the Beloved is working on Her book or playing the piano. My saxophone is so much louder and a lot less neighbour-friendly. I don't really go out much in the evenings. My friends all live in Oxford, London or further afield. I need to make some in Cambridge, I suppose. My Beloved mentioned something about that before Christmas.

I don't know. I like coming home, closing the door and sitting with a book, a glass of something and a cat on my lap. I have the love of my Beloved, a roof over my head and full larder. Nothing else seems necessary, except perhaps at about 2:30on a Saturday afternoon.

Laurel and Hardy

The piano arrived a short while ago. I was disappointed that the movers weren't Laurel and Hardy. They did the job swiftly and efficiently and departed before I could get the kettle boiled for a cup of tea. I thought we'd get a bit of the old music hall routine.

"Did you know the piano's on my foot?"

"No, but if you hum it, I'll play along."

My Beloved is crying off Her writer's group tonight to play with Her new toy. This is a source of some angst to me. I normally have some bloke food on these evenings. You know the sort of thing - kebabs, anything deep fried, a very cheap pie and a huge pile of chips or a fat lad's breakfast. This is known as a Heart Attack on a Plate. Instead, we'll have a bit of shepherd's pie which She made yesterday.

I'll go and have the delayed cup of tea and perhaps a sausage sandwich with a a bit of bacon, and a side order of chips and black pudding. Or maybe not.

Pianolessness

Yes, we have no piano. The van delivering it has died. RIP the van. The piano is currently inside the van which is having its last rites at something called the Truck Centre. Not the Van Centre. Oh, no. I don't think that's quite manly enough.

So, I have informed my Beloved but She hasn't yet replied.

I spent most of yesterday evening browsing other blogs. All life is here. I had no idea that Christina Aguillera (sp?) had a blog here. If only I had known earlier.

I've added a photo. It's gruesome I know, but the truth will out. Perhaps I should have chosen that as the title for my blog. Too late. It's probably not even true itself. I mean it's not true that the truth will out. It is true however that it's not really funny.

I'm waiting in today for our piano to arrive. My Beloved wanted an indoor hobby which wasn't writing so She decided that She'd take up the piano again. She used to play a long time ago. We spent some time clearing almost enough space for it in the living room. We'll see later today if we've done enough.

I'll let you know.

New Year's Resolution

Every year for the past few years I've made a resolution to keep a diary and every year I've broken it. Usually it's been because the shops have been closed so I have been unable to buy something suitable. Or I've been too hungover. Or I've sobered up and realised that I couldn't spel.

This year is different. My Beloved has a blog and as soon as I have found out where it is, I'll read it and find out what's on her mind. God forbid that I should ask in case She tells me. She tells me blogs are a bit like diaries but with spellcheckers. I don't really do the tech thing. That's what She does.

So the New Year's Resolution is to keep a blog. I'll try to write something every day. In the past I've tried to give up smoking. That hasn't worked yet. I've tried to think about giving up smoking and I can do that nearly every day, but to not have a fag again ever is probably beyond me. I've tried the keep fit thing. Since I have the lifestyle of a slob on wheels, I think I'm quite fit enough for purpose. One year, I resolved to go on stage and sing before the next New Year and obviously that never happened. I think this one will be much easier to keep.