Why am I still awake? Why is putting the bins out a more enticing prospect than grabbing the 90 minutes sleep that's left to me?

I've been inspired, that's why.

I've just read a blog entry on bullying and it made me think about my own school experience.

I was never particularly outgoing, didn't really have any interest in the boistrous games my peers would try and drag me into. At Boys' Brigade, I was always the goalie. Didn't find the whole thing of chasing a ball around very rewarding, not being inventive, fast or aggressive enough to tackle the ball away from anyone.

So from the age of six, I was called names - names which questioned my sexuality and poked fun at my name. For a while it bothered me, quietly. I was never out-and-out bullied in the sense of having my head flushed down the lav, or having my bag nicked by the big boys, but to my adolescent brain, the name calling was enough. So I bottled it all up, and eventually it came out and in class five of infant's school, I pinned one of my antagonists up the classroom wall and called him a fucking bastard. It was the first time I'd sworn and it did the trick. As it was done infront of the whole class - bar the teacher - it gained me a measure of respect and the big boys started looking at me with tolerance instead of hunger. I wasn't a target anymore, I was the quiet one who got physical when you pushed him too far. And I was eight years old. I think I also got a little kudos for some other things I did at infant's school.

I had a reputation, you see. From about the same time, I had a steady girlfriend. We used to snog under our coats in the playground while a sizeable crowd tried to get a glimpse. I distinctly remember greatly enjoying the attention. A whispered conversation on my table turned one day to our worldly knowledge, a routine test of coolness. I was challenged by one of the girls (whose name I remember and whose face is swimming across my mind's eye but who I will refrain from naming here and now) as to which finger was my "pussy finger". I knew what a pussy was and guessed that it had to be the longest finger. More kudos.

I discovered many years later that I'd had a certain reputation in junior school. Well, I wish I'd known. Maybe I'd have got laid more at Seniors if I had.

With hindsight, it was probably because of this reputation that the big boys left me alone - apart from a couple of notable exceptions. On my first day of Juniors two big lads with green parkas and biro'd canvas bags pinned me against the playground fence and asked me if I was a Mod or a Rocker. I wasn't an idiot and answered "Mod". They made me promise I'd be one forever and walked off.

Well, I like Paul Weller, but fellas, I was always a rocker. Ner ner.

My next real exposure to bullying was just plain stupid. In Seniors I started riding my bike to school. Then one day a kid who shared my route home started getting stupid, cutting me up and walking into the road to try and knock me off as I went past. He used to threaten me with stuff I can't remember but at the end of the day, I was on a racing bike and he was on foot. I'm afraid I found him more annoying than scary.

At Senior school I took to cultivating an annoying smile, just to piss people off - and it worked. The hardest kid in the school once offered to knock my head off after school. I was there, he wasn't.

The key to my success, or at least my lack of ritual humiliation and beatings is something I've wondered about for years, or more correctly, something I've took for granted and contemplated from time to time. I suppose it might have something to do with my attitude, which is somewhat languid, very open minded and quite resilient. My reply to the name-calling became "Oh, that's number 1,999,999" which put across the accurate impression that I was actually very bored of being called names. The name-calling didn't stop, but because I believed what I was saying back to them, it stopped affecting me. Now, when dickheads in the park, or in the backseat of their mate's nicked Escort, or drunk in a club start mouthing off to me, my reply - inside and out - is disinterest. You see, these people don't know you, so how can their words be true? And if someone tries to insult you by lying, well it's them that look stupid, not you.

* * *

Update: I think I do actually remember having my bag nicked by the big boys now and again, but it hardly mattered as the most interesting thing in there would have been my nice not-Casio-and-therefore-better-than-everyone-elses scientific calculator.

Other random memories:

- I once talked myself out of a birthday egg 'n flouring. Dunno how. I think the chap behind me was percieved as being even more pathetic and therefore a more satisfying target.

- There was a group of kids who would retire to someone's house and masturbate over biscuits. One member of the gang acquired the nickname Tommy the Tank. Highly hilarious. I was not involved.

- On one uniform-free day, I dressed all in white. My girlfriend made me walk several paces behind her when I met her for lunch.

- I can't remember for the life of me why, but I never used to meet her for lunch, despite both of us leaving school over dinnertime.

- At junior school, a bunch of girls from my class decided I should come with them to talk to my girlfriend whom I'd recently dumped. I didn't want to, so as I was being dragged physically across the playground by a group of about seven or eight bigger girls - slapped, kicked and dragged - I lost it in a display of temper, no, rage, that scared the shit out of me. I bit the one who was slapping my face, I whirled like a dervish, lashing out at the rest of them. I got taken to the headmadster for that. I also decided there and then that I wouldn't let that rage dominate me again. So I began cultivating my quiet placidity that I think I'm known for today. I was nine.

- A girlfriend I had in Senior school had a baby. I didn't find out the kid's birthday for ages. It turns out he or she was concieved just a couple of months after I'd told her to forget I existed. I think. There's still an outside chance that one day a fully grown child of mine will turn up on the doorstep.

That's about it for now. And yes, this post took me five days to finish.

1. What time did you get up this morning?
Between 6 and 8 depending on who decides to stand in front of me and whisper "Dad"

2. Diamonds or Pearls?
Did you know you can have yourself turned into a diamond after you die? And pearls are Oyster gallstones

3.What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
Lord of the rings.

4. What is your favourite TV show at the moment?
The stuff I download.

5. What did you have for breakfast?
Toast. Food of the gods.

6. What is your middle name?
Yeah, as if I'm gonna tell you.

7. What is your favourite Takeaway?
King's Hill chinese

8. What food do you dislike?
Sainsbury's sweet n sour veg. And custard. Not together.

Oh and anything with that Sudan 1 in it, which is apparently everything.

9. What is your favourite crisp flavour?
Cheese and bacon quavers.

10. What is your favourite CD at the moment?
Mandrake Linux Installation Disk 2

11. What kind of car do you drive?
Audi 80. Very scarily.

12. Favourite sandwich?
Bacon and cheese bagel.

13. What characteristic do you despise?
Apathy

14. Favourite item of clothing?
Green T-shirt with anonymous rasta type and the message "free your soul" on it. Nothing to do with the message, it just fits really well. And my camoflage coat.

15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would it be?
Snowdonia. After it stops snowing.

16. What colour is your bathroom?
White and chrome. Which sounds much more classy than it actually is.

17. Favourite brand of clothing?
British Army.

18. Where would you retire to?
Not Eastbourne.

19. Favourite time of the day?
3am. When the kids are asleep.

20. What was your most memorable birthday?
Um, none of them really. But that might be down to my terrible memory.

21. Where were you born?
Hospital

22. Favourite sport to watch?
Cricket, on sundeay, in the park, in Summer.

23. Who do you least expect to send this back to
you?
Everyone

24. Person you expect to send it back first?
No-one

25. What fabric detergent do you use?
Tesco Non Bio.

26. Coke or Pepsi?
Lemon squash, orange squash, water. Black fizzy drinks bad.

27. Are you a morning person or a night?
Morning. Kinda have to be or no-one gets to school.

28. What is your shoe size?
Ten in boots, nine in trainers. But sometimes ten in trainers. Whatever's comfy and cheap.

29. Do you have any pets?
One rabbit, one dog, six puppies, two children.

30. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share?
I'M BAAAAAAACK!

31. What did you want to be when you were little?
Journalist. Politician. Then I found out what wankers those people are.

On September 16th 1992 John Major's government came under financial attack from currency speculators taking advantage of our unnaturally high exchange rates due to the UK being part of the EU's Exchange Rate Mechanism. It became known as "Black Wednesday" and heralded the downfall of John Major's government, a resettling of interest rates and eventually an upturn in the economy - as discussed here.

Wikipedia has the story in layman's terms.

As you'll see from the end of the Wikipedia entry, there are others who say that this led to an upturn in the country's fortunes. I would have expected the Labour party to be one of them, but apparently not, as they've decided to hold back some of the more juicy details from that day's activities when they release papers later today.

It's not a particularly interesting story, but it's one that got me suspicious. For the conspiracy theorists among you, it should be one to delve further into.

Now what was the address of that site that published details of Tony Blair's daughter's suicide attempts?

Today is Imbolc, the pagan festival of light. It's also the festival day of the Goddess Bride, who presides over poetry and midwifery, so it's rather appropriate that today our dog, Suki, decided she was going to have seven puppies!

Photos later as I haven't tried installing the Infra-red link for the phones yet.

In the meantime, here's the usual entry from Byzant Scriptorium.