As the old ad went...

I'm having a break,having a...

Back in a week or two.

Cyber is...

Status updates copied directly from My Mini-Feed @ Facebook

Cyber thought he was, but isn't quite yet.

Cyber remembers the song by Living Colour..."I'm living in a box, living in a cardboard box...".

January 22
Cyber is nearly ready for the removal men.

January 16
Cyber can't wait until the 1st weekend in Feb.

January 14
Cyber is hoping that the caffeine kicks in soon.

January 13
Cyber is going to read a few blog posts and then...

January 12
Cyber today is going to 'DUNG OUT' the shed and maybe pack a few more boxes.

January 11
Cyber is pleased to have succeeded in having possibly made a few enemies who he hopefully will never have contact with again.YIPEE! :-).

January 9
Cyber is glad he isn't tropophobic.

January 7
Cyber wuz here again.

January 6
Cyber wuz here.

January 5
Cyber is heading back up into the roofspace to do some more packing and to avoid Sergei Krapotkin, just in case he calls.

Later on?


Moderately random whimsy from the land of bad dreams.

A couple of months ago I sent an e-mail around all the active members of the Northern Irish bloggers web ring. I wanted to highlight a few of the blogs on it.The e-mail was in the form of a questionnaire, with questions like...

* What is the title of your blog?
* Why did you call your blog....
* Briefly, describe your blog, if you can.
* Why do you blog?
* What has been your best blogging experience?
* What would be your main blogging advice to a novice blogger?
* What are your favourite blogs?
* What is your favourite book?
* What is your favourite film?
* What is your favourite poem?
* Who are your 'Top 10' favourite musical artistes or bands?
* Who is your favourite comedian?
* If you were to relive your life to this point, is there anything you'd do differently?
* What would you call your autobiography?
* Who would play you in the film about your life?
* What are your hobbies, apart from blogging?
* What is your most treasured possession?
* Who are your sporting heroes?
* If you won a million on the Lotto what would you spend it on?

One of the most memorable responses was from Mudflapgypsy who's response was...

Blogging means never having to fill out questionnaires.

I chose the name because no one else used it.

So to find out all about this Northern Irish blogger you'll just have to check out his blog Feel the groove and do it anyway.....


Eating out in Greyabbey.

The advert in A Taste Of Ulster Guide 2003/2004 reads...
1-3 Main Street
Greyabbey BT22
Tel: 028 427 88260

The Wildfowler Inn is originally a coaching house, set in picturesque Greyabbey, known for its ancient abbey and antique shops.The Inn is 6 miles from Newtownards and 3 miles from the famous Mount Stuart House and Gardens. We are an ideal stopping off point and offer a traditional cosy atmosphere complete with log fire. Our food is tasty and freshly made, catering for all tastes. Facilities include a Public Bar, Lounge Bar/Restaurant and Restaurant/Function facilities where coach parties,weddings or conferences can be catered for. Families are particularly welcome at The Wildfowler Inn.
Tel: 028 44 612093
Fax: 028 44 617327

But the headline in the Courts section of the latest Newtownards Chronicle...

Greyabbey Pub Restaurant could face closure.

They say 'It has 3 months to make it's premises meet basic health and safety standards'.The Chronicle reports that Ards Borough Council brought a total of 10 charges against the guy who runs the Wildfowler.If there's ever a TV programme called 'How clean is your pub?' with Aggie and what's her name I reckon the Wildfowler should feature at least in the before part based on the charges listed in court.

Charge 1 No temperature monitoring for food refrigeration.
Charge 2 The kitchen floor was dirty, as were walls and light switches, toilets were dirty with a nappy left along with a baby's bottle full of soured fungi filled milk.
Charge 3 The officers found evidence of rodent droppings, with a rat carcass discovered under a table in the lounge.
Charge 4 The premises had no hot water and no soap at the wash hand basins.
Charge 5 There were missing tiles.
Charge 6 Areas were unsealed.
Charge 7 The gas cooker was not clean.
Charge 8 Liquid was leaking from the fridge.
Charge 9 Waste food and drinks were not removed from the function room after approximately two weeks.
Charge 10 Food was cut on a chopping board along with raw chicken.

Guess where I won't be eating for a while?


A "must read" poem

on it's way to Sh1tty 1st Draft ,written by Col.

The Desolation

Feed them to the jackals[1],
the raving, the desolate, the insolent;
let them tread on the roads of Mount Zion[2]
in old Jerusalem, and fall into the cenacle:
their last supper shall be their own
flesh, lured away by the cunning,
the slight, of huli jing[3].

A successful prince
owns the attributes
of both lion, and fox[4].

Don Diego de la Vega[5] may be proud,
but there is no pride to be found
amongst the ranks of the fallen:
their trenches lie in torrents of Hell,
with the thick stench of corruption
encasing hearts, a lion’s mane
grown ratted and matted with shame.

[1] Psalm 63:9-10: But those that seek my soul, to destroy it, shall go into the lower parts of the earth. They shall fall by the sword: they shall be a portion for foxes.
[2] Lamentation 5:18: Because of the mountain of Zion, which is desolate, the foxes walk upon it.
[3] In Chinese mythology, huli jing are fox spirits that lure men away from their wives.
[4] According to Machiavelli’s The Prince.
[5] Zorro (Spanish for ‘fox’) is the secret identity of the fictional Don Diego de la Vega.


It's Saturday and...

I wonder will I win my appeal against being issued with a parking ticket or will I have to fork out £30.

I've some packing done.

But I've all these boxes to fill.

I better get started.


Another F*'^king meme.

It originated at some stage on the meme haters blog, the blogger known to the police force as Old Knudsen and then Ellie was picked on by that guy with the bitter balls and because she'd been picked on she chose a vulnerable blogger like me to pick on.

Phew, after that sentence I'm knackered. Hold on until I take a breather.


Here are THE RULES:

Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog. Share seven random and/or weird facts about yourself. Tag seven random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs. Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a notification on their blog.

1- 7 is my favourite number and as a few words from a song I remember from my youth went "7 is the perfect number, death is conquered when you slumber".

2- My first serious crush was on an American girl at an American boarding school I attended in West Africa. I can't remember what she looked like but her name was Martha Jane Hewitt.

3- The Madonna song 'Like a virgin' was number 1 in the charts when I lost my...

4- I have never and do not intend to ever use the services of a prostitute. Though I do believe that prostitution should be legalised to protect the people who can see no other option but to work in that business.

5- I have the mobile phone number of a local MLA who when I saw him being interviewed on a live television show last week I was tempted to phone, as he probably would've left his phone turned on.

6- Earlier this week I phoned a removal firm and said " Hi, I'm ringing for a quote. Do you know any Shakespeare"

7- When I was in P7 and at a boarding school in Swansea, I had to go to bed at 7pm.

If you're a blogger and you're celebrating St. Knut's Day today you're tagged.


Would you call this a Haiku?

also found scrawled on the notebook...

Statue, cold and grey
The Blessed Virgin Mary.
I understand why.

[Apologies to devout Roman Catholics]


In the middle of packing I found this

scrawled on a notebook...

I wish I was in England.

She tries to hide her 'Bugs Bunny' teeth behind her 'Chris Eubank' lips. It never works. Her face is splattered with freckles, maybe a design by Andy Warhol. Her neck seems to shrink as every year goes by. Ginger hair or is it GINGer is one of her better features. It serves a s a warning, like a danger sign with a skull on it.
No one would want to come near her anyway. Her 1986 shell suit she bought as maternity wear then, seems to be all she has left that fits her. She's never been able to wash out that historic stain on the jacket. Stain, yeah that's her. A blotch, a big blotch. I'm married to that fucking bitch.

'Billy' she shouts, as sweetly as she can.
'Wa' Billy shouts back 'What you want you fucking lazy bitch?'
'Billy' She says trying to sound sweet. 'I'd love a cup of tea'.
Billy walks in from the kitchen and stands over her as she sits on her re-enforced chair kindly supplied by the occupational therapy department.
'Can you not get up today, off your fucking throne?'.
'Please Billy'.

Billy was the exact opposite. Six foot three, short dark wavy hair, brown eyes and very thin. Billy never stopped.He couldn't sit down. Always on the move, doing something.
'No I won't, you can get up off your fucking 'hippo hole' and waddle over to the kettle yourself' Billy said, lighting another cigarette.
'I'm away to the travel agents. I'm going on fucking holiday. Over to England, maybe Blackpool' Billy said slowly in between sucking hard at his cigarette.He blew small puffs of smoke directed at the yellow ceiling.
'Maybe it's a bit more pleasant there, they say it's the green and pleasant land'.
Billy walked over to the fire, lifted the fire-guard aside and threw his cigarette butt into the ashes.Lighting another one and after another drag he whispered 'I wish I was in England, their patron saint killed all the dragons'.


It even snowed in Greyabbey last night.

And contrary to popular belief I do not live in an igloo, Thank God!


Inspired to write a book.

My sojourn in Greyabbey will come to an end at the end of this month.I'll not go in to all the reasons for leaving just in case I have to get a solicitor involved.

The time I've spent here has inspired me to write a purely fictional book.Purely, there'll be nothing pure about it. It'll be set in a village that's turning into a 'ghost village' a village where people sell up and leave. Of course the characters in the story will include a wealthy landowner, his mistress and his wife.There'll be links to the MI5 safe house and the people they've had to hide.The story will no doubt feature these people in hiding and the reaction of the villagers when it's revealed the reason why they've moved to the village.I'll have to have a minister, probably with a drink problem, in the story. Also a doctor who's meant to only have 3 months to live and has stopped working, but really is... I'm not telling, you'll have to buy the book.

If there is spasmodic blogging, or is that sporadic blogging, here over the next couple of months it's because I don't want to get newspaper ink all over my keyboard. My hands, at present, are clean and at the next available opportunity will be covered in newspaper ink.There's nothing better than that and stacking cardboard boxes in any available corner of the house.

Up in the roofspace I might just find...