It's A Lovely Day...

and you should all be outside in the sunshine, looking at the garden and thinking springy thoughts.

I must apologise for abandoning you for a few days, you are the Guru's latchkey kids, left to fend for yourself and I hope you didn't have to resort to eating out of skips behind Waitrose.

I have been busy my little tender loins, busy making arrangements for Mrs B's birthday - making plans and secreting gifts around the ashram...and what a gift I have for her! More after the event.

Thanks again for the messages of support with regards to my ongoing battle with pain - I have managed to hypnotise myself into numbness now - the shoulder responding to my needs and the pain blocked through a mixture of Jedi mind trickery and a Derren Brown self help tape.

I needed to deal with this pain issue as I had to wield the might Dyson around the temple as we are having a state visit by the Senior Mr & Mrs B - there are parts of the carpet that went into shock as I lifted the chair leg and hoovered!

I have also been busy juggling an idea, let me float it in your direction and see what you think.

Several people have asked if I will help them become celebrants - not Guru's - just plain celebrants and I think it is a good idea for me to inseminate them with my seeds of wisdom. A small workshop or seminar in which we can open up to each other and explore those parts that other Guru's cannot reach.

I have already sketched a basic plan for the day and now need a suitable venue - I would invite them to my hill top garden of wisdom but Mrs B wouldn't like strangers coughing on the furniture (thank you Dylan Thomas), so I have started putting feelers out with the Co-Op for a little sponsorship and perhaps some free tea bags.

Now, if you were interested in joining my little self awareness clinic - I would only be too pleased to see you and there would be no fee ( just an admin charge for the paperwork - about £20 should cover it).

So, what do you think? Any takers?

Was that a car door? Have the Seniors arrived?

Better get the kettle on - be happy my little saplings!

Welcome to River City

Good morning my devoted followers and thank you for all the messages you sent concerning my battle with a painful shoulder - to date exactly NONE of you have offered your support.

So now hurt feelings have been added to my list of troubles - but I am not alone in having problems, hence my mention of River City, Iowa...the musically literate among you will already have cottoned on to the fact that River City is where The Music Man was set, a place where the arrival of a pool table spelled trouble, trouble,trouble!

Robert Preston - The Music Man

So who else has a little bother this morning - well poor old Andrew Lansley must be feeling like he's been hit over the head with a pool cue! Shafted by his own party and hung out to dry as he tries to scramble from the ever crumbling wreckage of his NHS reforms.

I'm not going to debate the changes here, the NHS is such a sacred cow that anyone suggesting change is burned at the stake. It's not even like we need to change anything is it? What's wrong with ringing up for a doctors appointment because your shoulder hurts and being told you might get in to see a doctor in November - that is if there is a cancellation.

The reason the doctors are so busy is because of all the lazy buggers who are now worried their incapacity benefits will be stopped. I have a bad shoulder (not that I would mention it normally) and yet I manage to go to work and bring spiritual sustenance to my little uncaring flock!

Not everyone with an incapacity claims benefit...there are some people with a severe mental incapacity, totally incapable of doing normal everyday tasks and yet they are working and earning good money - and one of them is in trouble today - Wayne Rooney. His communications skills need a little work I think.

The man is over paid and under developed socially - and if Man Utd appeal his two match ban then they are sending the wrong message - they should just pay the consequences of not parenting their troublesome child.

Butterflies are in trouble, half the UK species could become extinct so we are being asked to plant flowers in our garden that have extra nectar - they will be sold by Sainsbury's and if you buy them you will get extra Nectar. It's a win win scenario.

I don't think Laurent Gbagbo is in the same position, sat in his ivory tower on the Ivory Coast - he is very close to becoming the late Laurent Gbagbo.

The first G is silent by the way, and whenever I hear his name on the news I immediately conjure up a picture of the former president dressed as a Hobbit.

The BBC is in trouble - with me! How on earth did they let the coverage of The Masters fall into the hands of Sky? I don't want adverts in my golf I want to hear Peter Allis rambling on about the pretty trees. The thought of Butch Harmon analysing every shot and the whole thing being about Tiger Bloody Woods troubles me greatly. BBC - if you can't afford to pay for the golf - just 16 days a year - then you are spending too much on Jeremy Fucking Clarkson!!!!!


So, lots of trouble in the world, I have not even touched on Libya or Japan but through it all, through all the troubles and travails of life, through my own personal battle with pain (did I mention I have a bad shoulder) we will struggle on - because, at the end of the day what choice do we have?

Come on everyone, grab hold of your trombone and let rip....

76 Trombones from The Music Man

The Cold Shoulder

Another Monday morning and what stretches ahead is a week filled with pain, as so many weeks in the past have been filled with pain - but because I am a man, and a fine example of the species, you will never hear me complain.

I have a bad shoulder, it's been giving me some problems for a while and means that if I move my arm in a certain way excruciating pain rips through my body and it is only my self control and manly resolve that prevents me from passing out.  Luckily, the action of typing does not cause pain - well not for me anyway.

I can still lift my fine china tea cup as well as my glass of Pinot, I can still manage to open the odd packet of Quavers and I even managed to cook a very fine meal for Mothering Sunday (slow roast shoulder of lamb, cooked on an organic trivet of carrot, shallot,celery and potato). There was plenty of meat left over so I will be able to put my pain aside and make a batch of curry - that's one way to deal with cold shoulder.

As a man who holds firm views about certain aspects of life, I have also had to get used to the other sort of cold shoulder, living life apart from the mainstream, persecuted for my views and not allowed to reach my full potential - I was thinking about this the other day, how great I could be if I had the chance to be on the television.

Perhaps I should apply to go on The Big Question, the BBC Sunday morning discussion programme - I watched a bit of it again this week, it always makes me angry. This week they had that bitter old failed actress Ann Atkins on, a rabid God-botherer who looks down her nose at the likes of me. Excuse me for asking but why does her opinion matter?

I will begin my campaign to get a seat on that programme so I can tell the world my view and perhaps then the cold shoulders will turn into open welcoming arms, the same manner of welcome I get from you my dear faithful, mindless sheep in the flock of the Guru.

I have so much to give and to share, there is so much you can learn from me - for example, if you want to save money on your shopping, don't buy a new dispenser of sweeteners, buy the refill pack...I know you've tried it before and I know it took forever to get all those little pills through the little hole in the bottom of the dispenser but I am here to tell you that there is another way - the damn thing has a lid.

Oh well, the pain in my shoulder needs toast and another cup of tea, I must then prepare for a visit to the dentist - more pain. But I am a MAN and no sign of the agony will be seen on my face (my buttocks might be very tightly clenched though!)

What a Waste

I was going to write a silly blog about mothers day but I can't - I just want to say to the mother of PC Ronan Kerr, killed in a bomb blast in Omagh, that no mother should have to live with that loss - and to the mother of the man who planted the bomb, well I hope you can find the words to explain what a good son you have.