Capital Sci-fi con. Feb 2018

Just pictures: in bad chronological order.


The fun! The fall out..

I had a grand day out yesterday. Myself and a good mate went to our annual trip to Knockhill racing circuit to watch qualis for the BTCC.

Insert wax lyrical about how close you get to garages, teams, drivers, action, the smell of the day..everything. for £14!!!! (Purposefully kept short because I could go on and on)


I had so much fun. Bacon rolls and open air chips. Great coffee!

I walked over 9000 steps by the end of the day.

I didn’t use sun cream as it was raining and a low UV day. I still got sunburn. Even though we had cloud cover and at one point my friend was shivering and wrapped up like an Eskimo. My face is a shiny berry with glasses (not sunglasses) stripes along the sides.

I am broken. My pelvis hates me. My calves are in spasm. My back from pelvis to neck is a mess of pain and muscle issues. I am shattered.

So pleasure Vs pain. It is directly proportional to the amount of fun I have how broken I am the following day.

Not happy universe, not happy.

I don’t see why I need to ration my fun and days out. There are not enough pain killers in the world that will help me lead a normal life.

So… Do I lament? No, just vent once in a while.

What I try to do is have a calendar with clear days after an ‘event’. I have to take recovery time into account. I mustn’t have two active/event days back to back. One of the things will undoubtedly suffer. Either holding back on day one to make sure day two can happen, or bust it all day one and usually cancel day two. So, I’ve learnt. One thing a week.

I do hate having limits.

For instance, the first time I went to Knockhill, was to watch superbikes. I was up at 4.30am, we got there early doors and stayed all day walked around a lot (it was tipping down and we got drenched) and had hardly any issues… This is a handy, annual direct comparison of what a degenerative condition is like. This year, lots more sitting down, arrive late, leave early. But I still enjoyed it

I think, if there is a point to this, that it’s enjoy what you have.


This post has been brought to you by a small twinge of regret, but it gets lost in the pain pile so we ignore it.

Fathers day…a tale of mixed emotions: happy fathers day Mum.

Usually on fathers day I will write some words about those who stick around and be actual dads to kids when the sperm donor has done a bunk, that kind of thing.

I have had that kind of stable role model in my life since I was weeny.. he is my godfather and he had always been a ‘force for good’. We are very alike. I’ve always attributed it to absorbed genetics. (It’s a thing, trust me*) I even have a tattoo dedicated to him.
Then the rotten bastard goes and insults my new cat, on facebook, in front of everyone.

Now, you may have noticed, I have a new cat.  May not be interesting to some, but for me it’s MASSIVE. 

I have a soul in the house that I’m responsible for keeping alive, she keeps me company when hubby is out, she is everything I’ve needed for years. Just her very presence is changing my life. And we are changing hers. It really matters a great deal.

Yes. It’s a big Fucking deal.

And this man, this bastion of stability, my faux pa, a psychologist no less, who really should get why it’s a big Fucking deal, tells me to stop posting pictures of my cat, he’d rather see the ginger ladies my husband posts. (Which are all very tasteful if not a tad Shirley Manson based and repetitive..a man needs a hobby, eh).

I was shocked.

I was hurt.

How Fucking dare he.

So, I haven’t stopped, it’s my  wall, it’s my cat, it’s my pictures. I just filter so he can’t see them. He loses out. Love me, love my cat.

Just another father figure who turns out to be a shit bag… two for two.

But… I’ve done this well so far with a mum who done the work of two parents on her own. If there is anyone who deserves a happy fathers day, it’s her. 

She doesn’t like mothers day: “it should be mothers day every day” is her mantra, and I get that. So, happy fathers day mum. Cheers for the cat too, you have helped my life change for the better in so many ways.



*no basis in science whatsoever, but I see it all over the place, so anecdotal, but still true…ish…

Another short story ..Orks tell tales

Just a wee story I wrote: based in 40k universe. Prompt “one moment in time” (it’s in there!). First time I have tried humour as the lead emotion. Well, it’s Orks, you just have to. And Ork talk is quite tricky to write..

A very, very brief and possibly inaccurate history of time 

The warriors of the Death Skullz had had a very interesting and productive day. They had been out fighting and stealing and they were sitting round a camp fire all comparing the bitz and junk they had got from the dead bodies and drinking copious pods of beerz.  Looting on this planet was “da bomb” and they were lamenting the fact that they would have stolen all the stuff and would have to leave at some point.

The crew cracked out yet another round of fungus brewz (Grot’s grottiest rot gut). Some mangled crowd singing had been taken up.  It wasn’t tuneful, it was barely in time, but when inebriated groups get together and sing, all it really needs is a rousing chorus that everyone can go “Hey!!” together at the end.

Big Bazza shifted himself on his elbows and through very bleary eyes; he rose up his head and shouted over the noise of the grot target practise. 

“Oi youse skum, listen up. I as got an idea an I fink we should all do it. Cos if you don’t I will shoot ya. So, who’s in!?”

There was an assorted mumbling of “Yeah, ok den boss, I’d like to keep me ‘ead an all dat” and they shifted generally up to sit cross legged in a circle with all the beers in the middle, and looking vaguely in his direction.

Big Bazza looked around “Yeah, ok den youse lousy snots, listen to this.  I heard a really nails story an I fink you would like it cos its History, ya see?” He really over pronounced the ‘H’ in history to underline what he was about to say. He took a big breath swallowing a fly in the process, and without even choking much started the tale. “Right den. Ready for dis? So dere was dis planet right, an it was crashed into by a rock ‘ard bunch of lads, right? Den when they sorted out who waz ded and who was not ded, the boyz with all da arms an legz and stuff left on all got up and went to look for bitz and den dey found dis place wiv all da bitz an they made a mekky fing wiv fire comin’ outta its arse, an den day got a.. a.. gun an den dey blew up some hoomies dat dey found and is was great!” He looked around at everyone and pointed a chubby, dirty clawed digit, “An Dat, my friends is History!”

A murky looking Ork raised his head and said “Nah Bazza, that was like yesterday innit!?” He laughed at Bazza and said “Mate, youse really is quite fik, you cannot even tell if yesterday is history or nuffink!” Unfortunately that was the last he said as Big Bazza had levelled his new shiny kustom mega shoota at him and had shot his face right off.

Bazza turned to look at the rest of the group “Right, dat sorted dat out. Ee was disreespeckful an I won’t ave dat kind of fing going on. Whose got any uvver stories den? I want to hear a really good one. Dunt even ave to be History, it could just be like fun yeah!?” and he settled back, but noticeably kept his gun in hand.

A storm boy looked up, dressed in a spotless uniform with shiny boots, a surprisingly clean face, his short hair greased down, nervously raised his hand “if I may be so bold, I do believe I have a story that will not only entertain, but may even make your head explode.” 

Big Bazza looked at him and said “Youse called Kevin aint ya? Bin showing a bit o’ promise in da gang, innit!?”

“Yes Bazza, Sir, it is” and he smiled as he had been recognised by the nob boss, he ripped off a dead smart salute.

“Well “Kevin”…” he pronounced it like it was a grimy snot in his mouth “Kevin, let’s see, erm, nah, youse alright an every fink, but I fink youse a lousy scrote, wot wiv dat clean face an stuff and I iz not bovvered by anyfink you ave to say” He levelled the gun right at him. A look of panic crossed Kevin’s face, but Bazza carried on “But…” and he waved his beer pod around “Youse show respeck, innit, an I take dat very serious.  I fink I will let youse tell your tale, but if it does not make my ‘ead explode, youse know what will ‘appen, right!?” He patted the gun and set it down on his lap.  “First, we should all get sum more beers in, I don’t want my ‘ead exploding and if all sober like!”

Bazza made a vague wave at some passing grots who scuttled off to get the round in “And I now ow many dere are so dunt go nikkin none as I will shoot yer bleedin’ leg right orf!”

“Bazza, youse can’t count” said the Ork to his side; he nudged him with his elbow spilling some of the beer he was still holding.

Bazza looked down at him. “I can count innit. Look.” And he took aim at a grot, shooting him square between the ears. “Wun!” he shouted triumphantly.  He looked round and spotted another grot that had seen what was happening and was trying to hide behind an ammo box.  Bazza took aim and shot the box, which exploded with various bangs and pops, and took the head off the hiding grot.

“Wun!” Bazza screamed, “Cos I started again innit!!”

The Ork that was sitting next to him looked in awe.  “Cor Bazza, you is well clever!  Beerz for da boss!”

Once the beer had been bought in with some various, well, let’s call them nibbles, the group settled back.  Bazza turned to Kevin, and said in his poshest voice “Why, Kevin, you have the floor, be hour guest”, every consonant pronounced dripping in syrup.

Kevin got to his feet, swayed slightly due to beer consumed, blinked, remembered what he was here for and his life was at stake, filled his lungs and went for it.

“I present to you: the tale of Gork and Mork, bought to you in glorious technicolour, hold on to your hats, I did warn you it could get good.”

“Let me set the scene” he said, “Imagine a time when there was nothing but stars and empty planets, all rife for the taking.  Nothing but firmament (that means the empty universe, boss,) and the two brothers came to be.  They had the knowing of the fighting and the knowing of the magik.  They looked about and they were lonely for their own kind.”

“Erm, Kev?” Said one of the crowd sitting there, “how comes they was lonely? They had each other! Surely they could fight and magiks all the time and it would be great!” and there were cheers from round the fire and rousing shouts of “Gork!” and “Mork” and small weapons were thrown about in a friendly gentle manner.

“Ah,” said Big Bazza, “they hadn’t invented beer yet, they was missing the very important fizz of life innit! Now let the young turd get on wiv his little story.”

“Anyway” Kevin said, slightly miffed, “They said to themselves ‘We should make mighty folks to keep us company, some perfect creatures who can share in our awesomeness’.” He pondered a moment and looked at the collected show of ‘perfection’. He continued, hardly thrown off track at all.  “They took it upon themselves to take raw star stuff and squish it up in their paws, drop it on the floor, spit on it a bit and the Orks were born. In that one moment in time, our people were laid down.  We got told there and then ‘go to every bit of the universe and take your Orky brothers and build and fight and steal and make” We knew we would take mek and make such things of beauty, such gunz and stompaz. Be amazing things, so strong, so beautiful, and so full of win. They sent us out, us Orks, to own the universe and everything in it.” He wiped away a tear dramatically and turned to Big Bazza. “What do you think boss?” he asked hopefully.

Big Bazza took a few moments, had a swig of beer, and then looked at Kevin. “And that’s how youse think it went daan, is it?” His face crunched up with the effort of thinking. “I reckon” He said “I reckon that’s mostly right, but it wasn’t so fancy.  All in, I fink youse can have” and he paused for major dramatic effect “an eight outta ten!” and he looked at everyone with a huge grin on his face.

One small Ork piped up “Cor, Boss, youse really is getting these numbers pinned daan innit!? Youse has to be the biggest boss wiv da biggest brain. Three cheers for Big Bazza!!! Hip hip…”

“How many is that then?” said one huge Ork with a very furrowed brow and clanking with skulls and chain.

The small Orc said “just keep saying hurrah until every fink goes quiet like.”

Everyone erupted in one huge “Hurrraaaaawaaaaaagh!”

“Well now” Big Bazza said, “considering dat big waagh, I fink you, Kevin, can live. But I want a better story, wiv a bit more fightin’ and such.” His eyes scanned the crowd and landed on an apologetic looking grot. “What you doin’ sitting there you snivelling pile o droppins?” and picked the gun up to kill him.

The grot was quick on his feet and got up and scampered round screaming at the top of his lungs “I’ve got a story sir, you’re gonna love it, it’s great, it’s got fighting an drinking an stuff an everything… Please don’t shoot me! Argh” the last word was a squeal as Big Bazza had let off a shot in his general direction.  Behind the grot, an Ork called Nosher had taken the shot to the shoulder and was growling and grabbing at his arm.  Realising he was oozing from the shot, Nosher picked up his empty beer pod and lobbed it over at the grot who was still running circles around the outside of the group. The pod hit another Ork, Bad Breff, who then got beer all down his face. Not happy with that, Bad Breff roared and stood up so fast, trampling Little Nadgers, who was sitting next to him, Little Nadgers then took a swipe at Bad Breff, with a cleaver he just happened to be holding, and took his leg out from under him, literally.  A random leg, now in the mix, got picked up and hurled across the group and it landed on Stinky Bogrot, who flung it away and grabbing his mate sweaty Warkstegg’s face, sunk his teeth right in to its nose, causing a squeal.

An old, pale green weirdboy, Wagrat, with feathers in his hair, which was now standing out horizontally with little sparks leaping of the ends, slit his eyes, mumbled and pointed, loosing a magik curse that hit three different bodies, sending limbs flying in all directions. 

Big Bazza was nearly sick with laughing so hard, he was still trying to shoot the grot and had so far missed four times, causing almost mortal wounds to his group, each shot caused the Ork hit to jump up and hit whoever was closest to him with whatever they had to hand.

The Boss stood up and looked round at everyone having a massive fight. This was just as it should be, he thought. “Dats my boyz!” he said, and fell forward into a puddle of blood and beer and snored like a rusty chainsaw.

The grot, who had missed out on any of the violence by being nimble and quick, took the opportunity to clamber up on the back of Big Bazza’s prone body and wave a small and grubby flag, and he shouted out “And that is how the red grot wins!!”

Diary of a re-homed cat

The start of week four in new house:

Baggins diary:

Well, I’ve not been to sleep all night. I was trying to keep my concrete feet quiet in the stairs, but my idea of quiet and mums are slightly different apparently.

I have killed the catnip mouse so dead!! So many times! I am a hunter supreme!

Mum got up at 3.40am. I know it was that time as she told me. She also acknowledged that she could smell my litter needed changing but she was buggered if she was doing it now. She’s miserable at night, she went back to bed. So to fill my time, I decided to see how fast I could do circuits of up and down stairs, all rooms. Record stands at 25 seconds. I’m a whizz cat!

Mum finally got up at twenty to bloody six, whatever time that is, and went to stroke me, but I’m too fast! I showed her how quickly I can do a circuit. She wasn’t that impressed and went to the bathroom for ‘a bit of peace’ but I chatted to her the whole time she was in there so she knows how awesome I am and what I’d been doing all night

When mum came out, she realised cat daddy hadn’t bought my morning feed up, so I was helpful and went downstairs with her and into the food cupboard, I love getting in there!! She mentioned I had a stinky bum too, but I don’t know what she means. my bum is wonderful.

And then I chased her upstairs and watched her put my pouch down. I didn’t want to eat!! I had things to kill.

Mum trapped me in the front room and said bad words quite a lot but when she came back in she said all the stinky bum stuff was sorted out.

Mum then spent forty bloody five minutes playing with me and the ball of wool, she’s great!!!

When she trapped herself in the kitchen after, I meowed a lot to make sure she was OK. She wasn’t in there long and looked panicky when she came back in. I  attacked her toes as I was hiding under the table. I am a wicked hunter!!!

Then I helped mum wash up a bowl for breakfast. I wanted some and jumped up on the sofa and got my paw right in the bowl. Mum made a bad word noise, but I’d got my little foot wet and made a fuss about it and mum got me a special tissue to make sure it was all nice and dry. I still haven’t tasted the fabled rice day…

Then I went for a run. Mum went upstairs again so I waited outside the bathroom door..waiting for her feet. But she came out with a brush and I sat and got brushed. I played with her but was really good and didn’t use my claws and I think I really liked being brushed, but I won’t let on!

Now I am having breakfast so I can wait for cat daddy to get up and I will pretend I haven’t had any fun and he will play with me for hours!

I have had a good day so far. I will sleep later!


A post taken from my FB 

​Sorry if this is a bit of a rant. It’s taken me a while to formulate how to say it. Still may ramble in places.

Right now the world is a bad place (not saying it wasn’t before, but now feels really bad). Things are going on at home and abroad that are down right vile. I am angry and frightened. The future is not what I ever envisaged.

I don’t know what to do. I’m trying to do everything I can.

I’m getting really annoyed that people are bandying around snowflake and liberal as negative terminology. Since when did being sensitive become a bad thing, that empathising and wanting to take a liberal stance made you weak?

I understand that people will not agree 100% of the time. That’s people. But we need to all be people of the world and stop this current racist bullshit. 

Seriously, look at history.. racism doesn’t work and gets people killed and it’s just rubbish. 

Let’s call out what we can, change what we can, be involved at any level we can. Stand up and be part of the side of right.

I have hope for the future, that it can be less shit for everyone and that we can all be a bit more sensitive to others needs and less about what’s in your personal bubble.
Yeah. All that. Probably more.

Additional: stop treating people like things.

New Year… new me??… nope, I’m still the same.


Here we are. 2017. At least 2016 is over, right?

Hubby was ill over Xmas, it was a horrible day unfortunately, then I was ill over new year. It’s hit me quite hard and I’m fighting a fibro flare.

Work has actually started to get busy and interesting again. I need to interrupt a critical work situation and go to bloody pain management therapy on Monday. I don’t want to go, I’ve got to go. Gonna cost £30 round trip in a cab. FFS. Talking abut my pain doesn’t get rid of my pain. Mindfulness is great if it works for you. I’m struggling with it.

Anyway, this year I have not set any resolutions. Not for any other reason than I have no idea if I wil be able to see it through so no need to out pressure km myself, right!? There is no new me. I’m the same as 8 days ago. A mess and in pain.

I’m trying to cope with the T2 diabetes thing too, so healthy eating is a must, not a new year fad. I need to lose so much weight it is incomprehensible to me how I am supposed to do it with the lack of support I am getting. I’m trying things on my own, and it’s OK, but I’m not able to push myself as it hurts. 22kilos to go…

The pain takes no heed of the change of calendar. I do try my hardest to crack on despite everything, but there has been such a level of expectation (pressure to get presents sorted, feeding stuff sorted, keep hubby entertained etc.) with the festive break, it’s actually been detrimental to my overall well being. Mad isn’t it? It’s supposed to be a happy time too. Was actually a very lonely day.

I feel like cack. It is hard to keep a lid on things. 

But, and this is the important thing, I will persevere. I have no option. One foot in front of the other.

Sorry this is flat and a bit whingy. It sums me up right now. Give me a week and I’ll get my head straight.

In the mean time… happy New Year. 😊