On a recent weekend evening I was walking back to my car after a trip to that shop in New Malden formerly known as Threshers (I know it has changed hands but I can never remember the new name), and as I gripped my recently purchased bottle of wine, it has to be said I was feeling more than a bit of trepidation. A friend of mine had invited me to her birthday/house warming party, and since I only knew her and another mate who was going along, the potential was there for a fairly awkward evening.

As it turned out my fears proved to be totally unfounded. The people who turned up proved to be really nice, and after a couple of drinks against the background of some scarily 80’s music from the stereo, I began to feel more relaxed.

One of the other guests seemed to have a pretty interesting job - her role involved practising hypno-therapy, or in other words, she hypnotised people. This reminded me of an event that happened many years ago at university, when I went to see a Hypnotist do a stage show in the Student Union bar. The hypnotist lined up some willing victims on the stage, and he seemed to use his hypnotic powers to great effect - one person seemed convinced that his legs had disappeared, another one was under the impression that he was a chicken and was waddling around the stage clucking loudly - what would have happened if he had been instructed to lay eggs was anyone’s guess! Other people were suddenly unable to say certain words…and so on. Whilst finding this all pretty funny, I wasn’t too sure about how genuine the hypnotic powers of the compare were.

 You are feeling sleepy…

From what this lady told me, it looks as if the hypnotist from my college days may have been genuine. It is apparently very easy to hypnotise people, and you can forget all the guff about having to look into the hypnotist’s eyes, or focusing on the movements of a swinging antique watch, it can be done in literally seconds! To be successful, the receiver must be willing to accept the instructions of the hypnotist,otherwise it won’t take affect at all. Certain personality types are more susceptible to it than others.

I was hoping that she could use her powers to help improve my Squash playing, but she said that quite a bit of background knowledge of my case would be needed before she could try the hypno-therapy. It was a bit of the shame, but the rest of the evening went quickly enough. Perhaps she is better at her job than she thinks.

In the very near future, seeing this film is definitely on the cards:

The ‘Dark Knight’ movie has a lot going for it in my humble opinion, not least because of the very wise casting of this lovely lady:

 Maggie Gyllenhaal

The venue of choice is my local cinemaplex, the Rotunda, in Kingston upon Thames. I don’t know if this is done in every branch of the chain, but in the Kingston Odeon, an extra pound on the admission fee will get you a seat that is set at a level above the others, which is a neat solution to that moment when a twenty foot person decides to take the seat right in front of yours, completely obscuring the view of the screen, just when the film is starting.

If they can come up with a work around for that scenario when the slob with the overloaded gob decides to sit next to you and munch through a bottomless carton of popcorn, then I may even start going to the cinema more often…

Did you see the BBC trailer for the Beijing Olympics that was played on TV before the start of the games? It was a mini cartoon featuring some caricatured animals, which looked to be trying to fight some monster sized beast, all to the sound of an oriental operatic tune. It was only when a graphic of some of the landmark buildings (such as the Beijing Olympic stadium shown below) came into view did it become clear what the trailer was plugging.

Arena of dreams…

This was pretty good, and for me, it is the most entertaining thing in the whole Olympic competition. Don’t get me wrong - I have loads of respect for the Olympic Athletes, who have spent many years and months in arduous training, honing their skills for their particular events, and they fully deserve any medals they get. My problem with the Olympic Games is that it just doesn’t make for entertaining viewing.

A classic example of this is the swimming events. It goes without saying that to get anywhere close to winning a medal you have to be supremely good, but as a spectacle, it doesn’t really cut it - it is just loads of Olympic type folk milling around a pool. To win at Archery you have to be extremely dexterous at loosing those arrows, but to the viewer, all you see are multitudes of people hanging around in a field. To be fair though, some events, such as the running and cycling, are better than others, but as sports go, they lack the excitement and drama of other sporting competitions.

Judging by the amount of TV and media coverage dedicated to the Olympics, it looks as if I am in the minority on this one!

Something is definitely up. It didn’t happen suddenly - it kind of crept up, catching me out completely after it had happened. The other day, on returning home after a few beers and some high octane games of Pool at the pub, I got that familiar feeling of the munchies. Not in itself that surprising, you may think, but it was at that moment that the realisation kicked in - what my rumbling stomach was craving more than anything else was….Muesli!

 wholsome

Whilst this may not seem like much of a revelation in the scheme of life’s great tapestry, to me it was a real turning point, as liking this kind of stuff runs completely counter to my lifestyle to date. Over the years, eating junk food, having a few beers, living on Pot Noodles, and the traditional post pub kebab have all been things that have helped make life great. Whilst wishing them no animosity, the beliefs and ideals of our veggie friends never had much appeal to me, as nut cutlets and vegetable roasts could never hold as much appeal as the mighty Half Ponder beef burger, especially when it is with cheese. So this sudden need for fruit and nuts came as a bit of a shock to me, triggering other disturbing memories such as the realisation I was developing a taste for brown bread over the doughy white stuff that I traditionally used to like.

All this points to one disturbing conclusion - I must be turning into a Guardian reader! It may be that this is just the top of a very slippery slope, and soon, the idea of wearing open toe sandals with socks, growing a beard, and snacking on bird seed will just seem like the natural thing to do!

Time for some organic yogurt…

Don’t worry - this is not about the inane 1990’s daytime TV quiz (whatever did happen to Henry Kelly?), but what could happen to me fairly soon.

 aspirations…

I have an outside chance of getting something that has been eluding me for well over a year - a place in the Squash Gold Leagues at my local leisure centre. Getting to this point has been very much an uphill struggle, as I have spent most of the year trying to overcome a back related injury, and of trying to reverse a general loss of form with my game. As there are a lot of really good players out there, the quest to get the required number of points has not been easy - in fact, my fate depends largely on what goes on in other people’s matches, so parallels can be drawn with the group stages in football tournaments!

If getting to the Gold leagues has proved hard, trying to stay in will be even tougher, as I found out just over a year ago when I last made it there -  if I can’t manage to compete I will crash out of it faster than an MP voting to retain the ‘John Lewis List’. It will be back to square one!

However, nothing has been confirmed yet. I should know if I made it within a few days time. There is always hope…

Yes you’ve guessed it - the title is a line from that incredibly cheesy Eighties song (’Tears for Fears’ have a lot to answer for)!, and if you are anything like me, now it’s been remembered, you probably won’t be able to get the irritating tune out of your head for at least a week!

It does very, very loosely sum up what I am up to this weekend though. My mate and I are off to see the girl who was the harbinger of the red lollipop I blogged about a couple of posts ago. I want to try and work out if she was just in a flirty mood at the time, or was the implied affection genuine. As birds are notoriously difficult to read at the best of times, this will not be as straight forward as it sounds, so the idea is just to play it by ear.

Anyway that’s the plan. The most likely result will probably be just another red lolly pop! Wish me luck.

The signs were not good. One wrong move in a squash game had caused severe pains at the base of my back, which were showing little signs of abating. This was the unwelcome scenario that faced me at the start of this year, and to cut a long storey fairly short, I went to see a chiropractor in my home town of New Malden. She turned out to be pretty good, and the diagnosis was that my problems resulted from compacted discs in the lower spine. The muscles surrounding these vertebrae were tense and not very supple, making them more prone to damage.

So the past few months have been spent trying to correct this and re-balance my back bones, and one of the things I have been advised to do is to change my posture. To this end I have been trying to stand up straighter, whilst keeping my neck lengthened.

Simple though it may sound, it is much easier said than done, as it is very easy to lapse back into my bad slumping habits. One bright spark (not the Chiropractor) told me to place a broom down the back of my shirt, which would effectively force me to stand up straight. Unsurprisingly, this is one peace of advice I will ignore, as it crosses that fine line between sensible, healthy activity and looking like a complete twat!

I know it sounds like a bad seventies song title (if it isn’t, it probably should be), but the title of this is all about the significance of the following event:

The other day I was the lucky recipient of a red lollipop! I got this via a mate who said he was told to pass it on to me by a girl who we both know, but not know that well. What I want to know is what does this all mean? As the girl is very attractive I know what I would like it to mean, but from past experience, I also know that I’m a very bad interpreter of human behaviour, especially when it comes to the ladies! What her gift symbolises, if it means anything at all, is completely beyond me. Is it just that she has a surplus of red lollipops that she wanted to get rid of, or is there a deeper meaning in there some where?

What do you think?

Well…I made it there and back!

 Skansen Girl in traditional costume

To be honest, I wasn’t really anticipating any problems for my Stockholm trip - the only real concern I had was whether I would ever see my luggage again after trustingly handing it over to the airport staff at Heathrow Terminal 5. As it turned out, the only irritation was the two hour delay on the outbound flight to Arlanda Airport, caused by too much air traffic - Sweden was proving to be a very popular destination! Apart from obtaining the autograph of Tennis legend Bjorn Borg at the Arlanda Luggage Reclaim, the rest of the trip down was without incident, and I was at my hotel at approximately 10:30pm Stockholm time.

I was based in a place called Gamla Stan, an island roughly at the centre of Stockholm. Forming the ‘Old Town’ of the city, it truly was a lovely place with cobbled roads and medieval looking streets. It also had some great pubs. One I frequented regularly was called ‘Stampen’, which had live music every night. Even though it billed itself as a Jazz Pub, a lot of the music played was of the R & B styli played by the likes of Eric Clapton. All of it was good stuff though. The barmaid was also very attractive - she was part of the unusually high proportion of stunning blonde girls that the Swedes have in an endless supply. There seemed to be at least one of them in every cafe or restaurant I was in. At times it seemed unreal!

I didn’t spend the whole time eating and drinking though. Getting around was made very easy by something called a Stockholm Card. This was a pass that could be picked up from the Tourist Office for about £40.00, that allowed you free public transport and admission for Museums and events over a period of forty eight hours after the card was first activated. I used it on the tubes and the trams, and I used it to go to a Midsummer’s Festival in a place called Skansen, which is where the picture above was taken. In my travels I quickly recovered the cost of the pass.

The only minor gripe I had was the living costs - with beer and food prices being a little above the level here in London, I found my money went fast - a round of drinks would not get much change from SEK200, or just under twenty pounds. It was the same storey for coffees and meals.

Despite the above whinge - I thoroughly enjoyed my time there. I would love to go again…though I will have to quite a bit of saving first!

If you want to pick up a DVD, CD, or even the odd bit of foodstuff, this place is really hard to beat in terms of venue, especially if you’re from my part of SW London:

I find myself making the short drive from New Malden to Kingston-Upon-Thames most Saturday afternoons, and after a whistle stop tour of the stores (I am not a huge fan of shopping), I usually treat myself to a cup of coffee.

Being very much a creature of habit, I tend to stick to the same coffee shop, and for ages frequented a well known coffee vendor in the Bentals Centre. Over time, I got used to the taste and strength of the coffee, but after they employed a barista with a particularly disgusting and repellent manner, decided that it was time for a change.

Switching my custom to a cafe in the Eden Walk Parade turned out to be a good move - the Eastern European ladies that work there are a very pleasant contrast to the Neanderthal twat in the other place, though the coffee turned out to be a bit of a revelation. It’s not that it tasted particularly unpleasant, but I found it to be incredibly strong - I was only half way through my Latte when I needed to get a cup of water to help me to finish it! It was only when I enquired at the counter afterwards that I found out that they use two shots of espresso in all of the coffee drinks, but, luckily for me, you can specify for only one to be used.

I am sure there’s a moral in there somewhere.