Of course the descent into consumption hell means a heck of a climb back out.. and this year, if all goes well, is an important one and one I need to be at my top form for.

That's me that is

So the coming New Years bash will be something of a blow-out as I plan to drop a fair number of kilos and hit the weights in an aggressive manner come 2011, or at least that’s the plan.

So until then, I bid you a very Happy New Year / Blianadh Bha Ur.

However one thing that has been a constant throughout is the joy at teaching a group of awesome people karate, especially seeing them grow in skill and confidence, as well as progressing through their belts.

To make an outstanding dojo doesn’t just require a good Sensei, not that I class myself anything other than OK, but also an outstanding bunch of people who give both 100% of themselves and their characters to make the dojo a friendly place to train in.. and I have the pleasure of having such students *and* Sempai’s.

There are parts of this year I will try and forget pretty quickly, and I hope will not haunt me next year, however the absolute blast I have had teaching at both Corby and Irthlingborough is not one of those.

The last karate classes taught for 2010 have just been completed and not a bigger laugh could be had.  To any students reading this; Guys, it has been an ABSOLUTE pleasure teaching you and I look forward to 2011 …I will also always have this picture which makes me laugh insanely *every* time I look at it (click on it for a larger version)!

In all honesty this is probably just me being overly self-indulgent; but also to a certain extent tiredness, popped pills making me feeling like crap, so much so I nearly had an ‘episode’ during my karate lesson today, and a smidgeon of worry about the thought of a section of my head being gauged out.

Which I suppose is perfectly natural and all part of being of the male fraternity, as most women would have you believe!

To some personal time then..

Search and ye shall find plenty of whinging on this fine blog about my absolute loathing of the early hours, and today is no different.  Laptops of varying sizes slung around my person and boldly step outside to greet the day with a heartfelt “Fookin’ hell it’s COLD!”

This lad is ugly (er) without the blessed bean coursing through my veins so a visit to the nearest Starbucks is always a must have pitstop as I potter up the M6.

I like Christmas, I really do.  However walking into the Service Station to be greeted with a profusion of Christmas decorations, Christmas themed goodies that can be purchased (complete with snowflakes, snowmen, santas, and the like) *AND* cheery Christmas songs blaring over the speakers IN NOVEMBER is extracting the urine somewhat.

I can’t help but feel that by the time Christmas ACTUALLY comes around that the 8 weeks of relentless ramming down my throat will perhaps have jaded me to the whole thing.  Of course this could just be my caffeine retarded body having an early morning gripe…. nah!

Bah-Feckin’-Humbug ya bastard shops!

…I feel somewhat better already.

Buggly Eyed Beasties

I looked at the ‘langostinos’ and rather disturbingly they looked back.  I’ll give most things a try, but not when those ‘things’ are able to look at me, with more than a little recrimination, and have more legs than foodstuffs should have!

“Look Dad! Buggly eyed beasties!” the boys bellowed across the table at me, knowing that the unofficial name that I gave this favoured Spanish dish gets me in more than a little trouble with the natives.

I also can’t help but feel a little queasy when said natives are ripping apart the aforementioned buggly eyed beasties and leave what looks like a slaughter of the cast of fingerbobs.

The Christmas meal just doesn’t seem the same without an obscene amount of roasted turkey and a feeling afterwards that you’ll be pooping feathers for the next few days.

This year I thought that, rather than ask for my usual ‘useful’ gift, I would get something completely impractical and feed the big kid in me.  Santa didn’t disappoint and I am now the proud owner of a mini Apache AH-64 remote controlled helicopter!  The little devil fits in my hand and buzzes around the room menacing all that are within the vicinity… mainly due to my ineptness with the remote and the fact that it’s an absolute bastard to control.

In fact the full danger of me being behind the controls of the helicopter meant that I was banished to the spare room to try and perfect my skills without taking out a family member.  The “you’ll take somebody’s eye out with that!” argument wasn’t won by myself when I pointed out that it *WAS* an attack helicopter.

Push the controls upwards and the helicopter shoots up and nearly hits the roof. Suddenly letting go of the control lever to stop it hitting aforementioned roof and it slams into the floor.  Buggar!  Push controls gently upwards and the helicopter lifts 4 foot off the floor and starts rotating in an annoying circle.  Looking down at the remote control for the “rudder trim”, as I remember the instruction sheet mentioning something about this, and the little bastard exits stage left and out the window onto the balcony.  “Ooooh shit!”

The little helicopter was never designed to fly outside, and it certainly wasn’t designed to hover from 6 floors up a block of flats.  As I run to the balcony it gave me one last look and started its rapid descent downwards.  I think the roadrunner type “meep meep” was of my own imagination.

Lunging over the plant pots that lined the balcony and desperately pointing the remote control at the gravity aided bit of plastic I managed to at least check the descent to a plummet.

I don’t think the shouted “Sorry!” to the bouffant haired old dear, tottering along the street outside, did much to calm her nerves.  I don’t think she appreciated the last desperate act of skill that changed the kamikaze dive bombing into a crash landing into the bush next to her.  I also don’t think the liberal sprinkling of potted plant dirt in her face as she looked up was also much appreciated.

My grasp of Spanish is basic, to say the least, but I got the gist of her feelings.  “Yeah, yeah, and that’s for the armada” I muttered after her angrily retreating frame, and started the long trek down the stairs to retrieve the errant present.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Ag8J2NMYmc

Methinks I will need to seek some guidance from my learned colleagues on this one, in a discrete but painfully embarrassing (for me anyways) manner.

….and no, this is not anything serious, just cause-n-effect mitigation!

Of course this is largely due to other people *actually* having a life and the seemingly headlong crash into Christmas.  Unfortunately a number of good friends are just too far away to visit for a good night out of beer, laughter and shared ‘mid-life crisery’. 

So I continue to sit at the PC, aware of the long list of friends on MSN, and wonder if there is anyone out there?

More importantly, is there anyone out there with a bloody cheap car I can lay my hands upon in exchange for a wad of paper bearing a promise from the Bank of England and a nice portrait of Queen Lizzie?

Addendum: Unfortunately due to the large amount of cr*p I carry around at the moment, the bike is not really an option