I'm a middle-aged man, and a fairly grumpy one at that. Rarely angry, frequently grumpy. Among the many things that get my goat - a long list, and it has to be said that this one would barely make it to my top 50 - are TV award ceremonies, such as the National Television Awards that took place last week. I mean, a tv show showing the giving of awards to other tv shows - self-indulgent w**k if you ask me. (Something that also makes me grumpy and would get into my top 50 are overblown, self-important, jargon-ridden job titles. This week I read in the Evening Standard [London village's daily comic - you can tell I'm spending lots of time there; I'm already becoming patronising to those that don't - as if you needed telling what what the Standard is for goodness sake] that one London borough, I forget which, has someone who has the job title 'Director of Parking Enforcement Solutions'. Apart from its ridiculous pomposity, it's also technically wrong, as he/she aren't actually forcing anybody to park. Moving on in the interests of my blood pressure...)
And so it is with some trepidation that quite a lot of this week's offering is inspired by and devoted to my small band of loyal readers. In no particular order (and I hope you'll know who you are):
- following last week's post I now have excellent fodder to feed Mrs Monmarduman when it comes to the great bath vs shower debate. I think I can safely look forward to soaking my weary limbs a bit more often
- the identity of a mystery and significant donor to my 2011 fundraising efforts was recently revealed. All I can say is a massive thank you, and that your cross-Irish Sea contraband smuggling business must be going very well (you do make plenty of trips after all).
A brief diversion - there's to be no charity or sponsorship-seeking events for me this year. A few reasons - first, I've hit the usual suspects for about 5 years running now, and I think they all deserve a year off. Second, setting up a 'justgiving' site may be effective, but it's just so unoriginal and impersonal. And third, as I blogged last year, too many requests for sponsorship are to give people money for doing things that are easy or pleasant or both. It's time we sponsored people to do dull, but much more communally-constructive things - I'd give a fiver to someone who was going to spend a couple of hours litterpicking in my local park for example. If and when I go back to begging for money, that'll be the kind of activity I do it for.
- to my youngest regular reader (I think), who has just started either cycling a busy and hard 13 miles or taking a two-hour tedious bus journey to a job in Birmingham that isn't the most glamorous in the world. Chapeau mademoiselle, one day you will get your rewards for the graft and grind you're putting in at the moment
- and to all those who also blog: I sometimes wonder why I do this, but when I have my weekly sweep of your blogs I think I get the answer - I'm not sure about mine, but yours enlighten and amuse, and make my day a little bit better than it would have been otherwise. Eeughh, that's not nearly grumpy enough, and is definitely tapping back into the awards ceremony vibe. Time to get back to moaning...
I was saying to the good lady Mrs M yesterday that when I get back from a decent run (and yesterday's long one was 14 miles, which just about counts) it feels like an army assessing its losses after a battle - a bit of bruising here, a soupcon (add your own cedilla svp) of chafing there. Sometimes it's better than you expect, other times worse. This week, it's better, though generous amounts of vaseline were involved, missus. Tune in next week for more aches and pains news.
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