A head emerges from the red tent, shaking in the winds, all around, a blizzard is sweeping across the ice ladden widerness that layed before me.

The artic tundra is no place for men. You come here when you know there is no hope. The air is cold yet stale like cheese that’s been left out of the fridge a wee bit too long, and all the while, not only does the wind chill you to the bones, you feel the cold icy chill of the reaper upon your soul, pulling you down into the abyss.

They have an oinkment for that I hear. Or is that little blue pills instead? 🙂

Moving swiftly on from frozen death, I have to confess that it’s been a more non-productive week than in previous weeks as I decieded to leave the work once I got home and behave much in the fashion I used to, surveying all I could see, which was the front room, and out the window while in my jim-jams.

I have also hit a very bad realisation this week after reaching certain levels of naughty, I have become a fully fleged member of the “geek” culture, a group of creatures with fear of sunlight, spots which if burst would produce enough material to make an omelette.

My brief audio email as mentioned yesterday, did not display a man who has legions of undead at his command but instead a small fellow asking strangers to walk into the local newsagent and buy a dirty mag, maybe with some chocolate milk.

On the one hand this has had me feeling fine, after all this type of stuff has been my bread and butter when reviewing items of ill-repute on the podcast, and therefore I am interested in such nonsense.

It would be jolly nice to do that for a living, the pays rubbish but you get more out of it. Of course there’s that nasty “real-life” going around that I’ve heard so much about and it seems to break everything. What lets me down is my writing style, as in I don’t really have one.

This is fine for blogging about the time I went to the vet to be put down or posting pictures about throwing up, but for real articles about manly things such as tyres and tractors with other subjects beginning with t, you need to have the writing knack. An quality which compels people to come back for more, descriptive in many ways and as much I try, it’s still some way off.

In fact, along the realisation of the “geek” culture, comes a nasty feeling like “Ok, move back a moment, you’re living in a scary place (Telford, more than likely) with the Adams family and Jeff Goldblum when he was in the Fly as neighbours, your feet are turning into tenticles, and the smell from your bottom is getting slightly worse.” Only a random appearence from a superhero (or at least someone with underpants over their trousers) can save us!

I was too damned late for one such social thing worthy of interest.

I had no idea that R.E.M for example were playing at the Royal Albert Hall the end of March, with the tickets having gone on sale mid febuary. It’s all to promote their new Album, which from early indications is meant to be the dangly bits in-between a dogs’ legs. When it was announced that they were performing staduim dates here too, it came as a bit of a “bugger” moment.

After all, I had seen them in 2005 when they were last down in London just a week after the London bombings, and they were fantastic. Of course met some very nice people there, who have kept in touch, and I had said to myself earlier that when they were back, I would go and see them once again to sing along badly to Man on the Moon. No piggy backs this time though, I’ve grown old…. 🙂

It seems as a result of the knucle down attutude I took, I ended up missing quite a number of events, all of which would have served to keep me stable. Well, ish.

I have a small confession to make on this mammoth post, it’s a bit of strange time for me at present, looking towards the future as to what I am going to be doing in a few months time and it seems that life has to pass me by for at least another three months yet before anything else can be taken into account, and then I can actually get on with my life.

Seems rubbish to me. I finally understand why getting older is your dad’s saggy soiled pants. So much is expected for so little a reward.

Anyway, to stop the brain seeping boredom setting in too much or perhaps just to delay the effects, there was a bit of a crack on Team Fortress 2 for the first time in ages, as that program hadn’t been used since the beta version last year was released to all who bought the Orange Box.

Seriously, it’s been that long. And I sorted out my Steam profile at long last, the link to which has been posted on the side there for you to have a butcher’s at. Darth Tater will lead me to victory, just you wait.

Also, to reconnect with the outside world (one baby step at a time, aversion to sunlight and all), I took some time out to catch up with a few people which once again through apathy or whatever, I just hadn’t kept in touch and I have to say it’s been a rather sad week in some respects when finding out what has happened to some unfortunate souls out there.

A friend of ours we met through another friend, whose friends with said friend who has other fri…anyway, he has been on the road to recovery after suffering a stroke which occured towards the start of the year and it was rather a shock. Granted it was more a shock for him than us, as he was the one suffering.

He is recovering well and he should be only out of action for another 6 weeks. So we can only say: Get well soon Andy, and yes we need a drink when you come off the drugs. Drugs are bad, except when they’re good. I think…maybe.

That’s your lot for today campers, I’m pretty sure that there was something for everyone on this edition of the AWOL. Join us back here next week for more atric tundra-ness and dilly-dallying with news on things that involve me. Wow, this should be posted on the BBC website surely?