The Other Place

It's been a nice little break, but it looks like I'll be returning to The Other Place on Friday. Maybe it's just as well - the longer I stay here, the harder it gets to go back. They only kept me here this long in order to make sure the skin graft was going to take (long story). I was hoping to be kept here over the weekend, as that's when the food in The Other Place is at its very worst. Also, nurses are much more fun to be around than prison officers. Anyhow, for the record, the contraption on my leg is an Ilizarov frame, which not only (hopefully) fixes the leg, but lengthens it too. The surgery on my ankle left the leg significantly shorter than it used to be, but the frame has given me at least a couple of inches in length. Too bad it only works on legs.

An update

Just to bring it all up to date... I've been in prison since December 2004. I was given a 3-year sentence - under Scottish law, this means serving 18 months. 15 down, 3 to go. Currently in hospital for a few days, not sure how much longer. The surgery seems to have gone OK, and I still have the frame attached to my leg - took photos today, but can't post them from here, unfortunately. With any luck, the frame will be off by the time I'm released.

And we're back...

...in hospital for a while. still nothing cut off, but have been shaved in a few (uninteresting) places.

A Dog's Life

OK, I wasn't going to say any more, but...
Monday, BBC2, 7pm: Bring Your Husband To Heel - in which women are encouraged to train their husbands using dog-training methods.
Wednesday, Channel 4, 8:30pm: It's Me Or The Dog - Victoria Stillwell helpfully points out that dogs (as opposed to bitches) are better behaved as a result of being castrated.
Not sure I like the way this is going.

Wake Me Up When 2005 Ends

Just been told that they're planning to discharge me from hospital on Wednesday. Ah well. It was good while it lasted. I've kept a diary in prison, which will probably become a blog someday. But this is probably my last post until I get out, in just under 9 months. Back in June '06, so bye until then.

Ouch

Had my operation yesterday. Seemed to go OK. Have large metal frame attached to my leg. Nothing cut off though, which is good.

Howdy

Unexectedly and temporarily back. Typing from my hospital bed. Got out of prison for a few days to get my ankle op. 9 months of sentence to go. It's going ok.

Normal Service Will Resume. Sometime.

I have no idea what's going to happen tomorrow. I know what could happen tomorrow, depending on how well or badly it goes. This could be the last time I post here for quite a while; hopefully not, but there's really no way of knowing for sure right now.

Anyhow, to the few people who have been reading, thanks. I'm glad I wasn't just talking to myself for the past few months.

Normal service will resume, at some point in the future. Maybe tomorrow, maybe not.

In the meantime, here's the Test Card.

Bye.

Doctors And Lawyers

Today I've been to the hospital and the lawyer's office. I'm not sure which of the two was the more depressing.

I'm going to need further surgery on my ankle. It's not healing properly, and the alignment of the ankle in relation to the foot is all wrong. That's visible to the naked eye; my lower leg curves out to the side, and just doesn't look right at all. I'm going to be referred to yet another consultant who specialises in fixing things like this. It's a remote possibility, but a possibility all the same, that I may need an artificial lower limb. Just fucking great.

The less said about the visit to the lawyer, the better. So I'm saying nothing about it, other than that I'm going to be in court tomorrow. If this blog goes quiet in the near future, you'll know why.

Spam Of The Day

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Wha-a-a-a-at? All day? You can't be serious. That's just impractical. You'd have to cancel everything for the rest of the day. And a quickie on your lunch break* would be totally out of the question. Unless you have a desk job, I guess. You could probably conceal it by sitting really close to the desk - being careful, of course, not to get jammed in there.

*As if.

There Goes The Weekend

Whooooosh! WTF was that? Oh, just another weekend passing faster than the speed of light. Seriously, what's going on? Is someone going around on Fridays nights and tampering with all the clocks to make them go twice as fast until Monday morning?

Sigh. I'm not working tomorrow. Instead I have to get up even earlier than normal for a morning appointment with the consultant at the hospital. It doesn't seem like three months since the last one, but I've checked the calendar and apparently it is. Maybe this proves that it isn't only the weekends that are going by too fast. On the plus side, having an early appointment means there's less chance of being kept waiting around for hours on end. Less chance, but not no chance. I'm hoping to get in, have an x-ray or two taken, and then be told that everything looks fine and I won't need further surgery (at least not in the immediate future). I just can't face the prospect of another spell in hospital - although a hip replacement is on the cards in the next couple of years. Joy.

Tomorrow afternoon, I have a meeting with my lawyer ahead of the court appearance on Tuesday. Looking forward to that even less.

Hey Santa Claus

Screw the iPod*. I want this.


*World Peace? That can take a hike, too. We both know it'll never happen.

The Late Bing Hitler

Blimey. Craig Ferguson has been named as the host of CBS' The Late Late Show. Brings back memories for me, I remember him being a brilliant stand-up comedian in the 80s and 90s. He played our local town hall in 1988, at around the same time as he started appearing under his own name, instead of his alter-ego Bing Hitler.

Bing, in case you don't know, was a mad-eyed, permanently angry Scotsman, who'd rant about anything and everything from whales to The Broons. A ranting Scotsman, can you imagine such a thing?

I went to another of his shows a few years later, and he was outstanding. Billy Connolly? Forget it. Ferguson could make him seem about as funny as a funeral. These days, of course, Billy can do that without any outside help.

Queen Tour 2005

Oh. My. God.

Apparently, it's really happening. Here it is, straight from the horse's* mouth.

*Roger Taylor

My Favourite Year

I've been thinking about this. I guess it was while I was sorting out my CD collection that it really hit me. 1989 was a fantastic year for music. Seriously.
Well, OK, it was a fantastic year for music I like.

Aerosmith: Pump
Bob Dylan: Oh Mercy
Daniel Lanois: Acadie
Don Henley: The End Of The Innocence
Elvis Costello: Spike
Fine Young Cannibals: The Raw And The Cooked
Lou Reed: New York
Madonna: Like A Prayer
Neil Young: Freedom
Paul McCartney: Flowers In The Dirt
Pixies: Doolittle
Queen: The Miracle
Rolling Stones: Steel Wheels
Roy Orbison: Mystery Girl
Tom Petty: Full Moon Fever
Tin Machine: Tin Machine
Traveling Wilburys: Volume One
XTC: Oranges And Lemons

Just think about that. All those fantastic records, in the space of a year. I don't think there has been anything like it since.

It's Shite Being Scottish

6 crap things about being Scottish.

1. Rotten teeth.
I blame Irn-Bru for this, unless it is libellous for me to do so, in which case I do not.

2. Ginger hairs.
Head/facial/other (delete as applicable).

3. Pronunciation problems.
Sample phone conversation:
Caller: Hello, is that Mr. Michaeljohn?
Big Al: Nope.
Caller: Mr Micklejohn?
Big Al: Nope.
Caller: Mr Michel-Jean?
Big Al: I'm Scottish, not French.
etc.

4. Gaelic TV Programmes on BBC2.
Less of a problem now that it has moved to Channel 4, but it was a real pisser when the rest of the UK was getting The Simpsons on BBC2 while we got a bunch of subtitled highlanders. Seriously, how many people speak Gaelic anymore? Three? Four?

5. Geographical confusion.
No, I don't know your uncle in Aberdeen. No, really. I don't.

6. Rotten teeth.
Yes, I know. But the one at the back is really playing up tonight.

Roy

This alphabetising of the CD collection is turning out to be a real hoot*. No, really. I now have Roy Orbison next to Royal Philharmonic Orchestra (The). Now, before anyone starts thinking I might actually have a cultured bone in my body, it's a recording of the Philharmonic performing the Queen Symphony - which is probably the most weird-ass CD in my collection**.

*OK, I'm easily amused.
**And it was a Christmas present, so don't start.

For The Beauty Of Wynona

Here's a rather annoying piece of censorship I discovered whilst copying one of my favourite CDs of the 90s onto the computer. Media Player correctly identified the CD as For The Beauty Of Wynona by Daniel Lanois, and displayed the CD artwork. Well, sort of. Here's what it came up with.

Hmm. Well, close, but it's not the version I'm familiar with. Here's what the original cover looks like, scanned from my own copy.

How ridiculous is that? And what kind of job is that for an adult, working out how best to position a 'C' in order to obscure a pair of nipples? A totally unnecessary piece of censorship*, if you ask me.

While I'm on about it, I should probably say it's a fantastic CD - as is Daniel's 1989 album, Acadie.

*And not just because I like looking at naked ladies. Although I do.

Adam Ant

A propos of nothing, I just noticed that 'Random Rant' sounds a bit like 'Adam Ant' - another inhabitant of my CD collection. Go ahead, laugh. See if I care.

For as we all know by now, ridicule is nothing to be scared of.

BT: Bastard Telecom

Not content with copying my CD collection onto the computer (still working on it), I'm putting some of my favourite viewing on there too. There's quite a few movies, including The Matrix and Apocalypse Now - and by the time I finish typing the post, both series of Little Britain should have completed copying on there too. Hurrah. Well, I figure I spend at least half my life in front of the computer, so it might as well have some entertainment value.

Thanks to BT I wasted half my evening trying to update Friends and Family phone numbers, in order to get some measly discount on the phone bill. Of course, their website was running slower than shit, and on the final confirmation of the new numbers, the whole thing just died on its arse. Thanks a bunch, BT. British Telecom? Bastard Telecom* more like.

Still in a slightly bad mood. You may have noticed.

*Of course I don't really mean that. What I really mean is Bastard-Fucking-Arseholes Telecom.