Ciao, baby...

He MUST be jet lagged.....he's going on about Manchester Airport again.

HEATHROW, Kicky.

They always put the wrong times up on the departure boards, to confuse terrorists. They are much more likely to behave in a suspicious manner when they are in a mad panic to catch the plane. Plus, it is almost impossible to run at full speed, with explosives in one's shoes.
British craftiness at its best.

Now I see. Well, it all turned out okay in the end anyway.

By the way, yeah, I'm jetlagged, but I mentioned Manchester, which was our layover stop on the trip TO Italy, on purpose. I mentioned it so that I might possibly find out what the hell that black, spongy, somewhat cookie/cake-ish, grease-filled disk was that I ate for breakfast that day. Blood Pudding? Mash? Flattened monkey crap? Yeccch!

Hey! Good to see you back, Kicky. I'm glad you had a nice trip.

That indeed was an Airline version of "Blood Pudding", or Black pudding, as it is more widely known.
Made from the various dangly bits of animals that are too old and tough for their meat to find its way to a decent Restaurant.
The Danglies are minced and mixed with left over blood that is mopped up from the Slaughterhouse floor. It is left to congeal for three or four months, mixed with seasoning, and mechanically pumped with lard until it has reached a satisfactory heart attack warning level.
It is then carefully rolled on the thigh of a seventy year old Mancunian female wrestler, chucked into an oven until hard enough to break a tooth, and sent off to various Airline catering services.
However, a PROPER black pudding, when served with a full English Breakfast, has been known to cause a state of sexual arousal when eaten, purely because of its heavenly taste.

If this food experience happened actually AT the airport, you could have been at 'Harry Ramsden's fish and chip shop' and it wasn't black pudding at all but a well done fish, backed in the traditional, old-style Lancastrian way.

c'mon, one measly picture...

I hope Kicky hasnt done what a very good friend of mine once did.
He went on a wonderful holiday to Canada, about fifteen years ago, and took one of those new fangled long, thin cameras that had the viewfinder at one end, and the lens at the other. Those ones that had the little skinny "cassette" film that just snapped into place.
Well, he took about six cassettes of film (24 on each, I think) and when he looked at the developed pictures, he thought the shop had given him someone else's films. He took them back, but they confirmed they were indeed his.
He showed them to his wife......one was of a Pylon, one was a bush, another of an anonymous motorway....nothing like his holiday snaps.
It was then that his wife noticed a blurred object on one side of each photo, blurred but there, all the same. EVERY SINGLE PHOTO.
When they had been in bed for about an hour or so, his wife suddenly sat bolt upright, laughing her head off. She raced downstairs and, after a short while, she came racing back up, laughing all the way.
The blurred object, turned out to be his left ear.

He had been pointing the camera in the wrong direction, and taking pictures of what was behind him, and a small section of his ear.

He said he thought it was strange that, when he looked through the viewfinder, everything looked so far away. A bit like looking through binoculars the wrong way round.

He's never lived it down. Silly Bugger!

Reminds me of my ex. At my cousin's son's wedding, he got a bit carried away and took all the giveaway cameras from their spots of non-use at different tables and snapped many photos of all the happy couples (grrrrr - we were in mid breakup) dancing.

This was part of the wedding expense, the development of all those blank photos....

not to make fun of him, he is generally a competent fellow.

Heathrow, that's where I couldn't get a nice glass of single malt scotch to brush away my airport asthma...

I want to see a picture of Kicky's parents standing in front of
St. Marks.

Sorry, maybe tonight. I doubt it, but maybe.

You sound a little sad Kicky. I think after the big build up and expectations of the trip it's hard for reality to meet up to the fantasy. After running on travel adrenaline for weeks you find you are back where you started. I used to go through this when I was sent on buisness trips overseas - I would hype myself up into a frenzy only to end up crashing when it was all over. It also made me more unhappy and frustrated with my job and life situation. I kept expecting a rebirth and all I got was the same old poop when I returned. The good thing was it eventually made me really take the steps to change things.
Think change.

Kicky, if you are having vacation let-down, you can come sit on my lap and talk about it. ;-)

Thanks, shewolf, but can you sit on MY lap while I talk about it? Works better for me that way.

Yes, Green Witch, I am having post-vacation let-down, but that isn't why I'm not posting pictures yet. It's partly because it's such a daunting task to go through all the pictures, and it's partly because I already seem to be busy every damn night this week, and it's also partly because I'm already onto the next thing, which is trying to get myself the f*ck out of this job, and onto the next chapter of my life.

But since you mention it, yes, today while I was on my way to work, it hit me that my cool post-vacation feeling of being relaxed and completely at peace is already gone. Two f*cking days is all I get? What the hell is up with that ****!?

On the first day back to work, before I went in, I just sat outside the building on a bench across the street for about five minutes, thinking about going in there and quitting right then and there. It felt so good. I felt like I could do it too.

But now I'm feeling all worried about what the hell I'm going to do next, and I don't know what the best way to proceed is, and blah, blah, blah, I'm goddammed unsure and unhappy again.

I have to get my **** together.

Kicky, you'll get used to post-travell spleen.

I felt it many times. I'd got over.

Best way is speak about the nice moments. Go on...

You could always take on the attitude of
" I went to Italy and none of you muther-fkucers (coworkers) did. So nah nah nah! "

ok, here is a psych 101 question..


Do you think that your let down from the vacation time has anything to do with possibly feeling lonely being so far from your family..and a place to escape?

I'm not sure, with the way you phrased that, what your question really is.

Do you mean that I'm feeling lonely after spending two weeks with my parents and being away from them now? Like I'm missing them? I don't think so.

And I'm not sure what you mean by a place to escape. Are you asking if I want a place to escape to? Escape from what? My job? My family?

Mr K, I think that a good evening in the pub, a couple of gallons of your favourite brew, making the acquaintance of a willing wench of the female variety, an Indian Takeaway for two at your pad, followed by the dimming of lights, the soft melodious sounds of the Birdie song, and then a damn good rumpy pumpy will do you the world of good.

Clears the mind, the bowels, AND the complexion.

Hopefully not all at once.