Tomorrow, for the first proper time in about four years, I’m going to be visiting my local doctor. Not for anything specific per se, but mainly in order to get myself registered and a basic check to ensure that I’m not dying of anything just yet.
One thing I am intending to get tested is my thyroid function. My father certainly has an underactive thyroid, and we’re about 95&percent; certain my grandfather had the same thing, so the odds are that it’s going to be relevant to me too. It would also go a fair way to explaining certain things about me, such as (to a degree) body shape, and the unwillingness of my body to lose weight in the way it should.
I don’t particularly like GPs, and tend not to visit them unless it’s important. This initial visit doesn’t really come under “important” for me, but I know it needs to be done at some point. In general though, I’m the direct opposite of the people who dial 999 because they’ve got a headache, in that I generally would rather GPs saw me (or indeed anyone else) for a valid reason, rather than from an acute attack of hypochondria.
So anyway, I’ll be there tomorrow morning. It’s playing a bit on my mind at the moment, even though I’m fairly certain there’s nothing wrong with me generally – but it’ll be good to get this thyroid question out of the way, all the same.
I see in today’s news that Halle Berry turned up in person to accept her award for “Worst Actress” for her role in “CatWoman. All I can say is she deserves it. Oh, and to be buried in pigshit for a year, just to enforce in her head what happens when you immerse yourself in crap.
By a ‘lucky’ chance, Herself had listed Twatwoman from Lovefilm, and we got it this week. God knows why it’d been requested, but it had. And oh my dear sweet Lord, what a pile of inordinate shite it is. If I were the inventor of celluloid, I’d be spinning in my grave right now, knowing that my product had led to this.
The director, Pitof, has a pretty good track-record – he’s a disciple of one of my favourite directors, Jean-Pierre Jeunet. But God he can churn out the shite when he needs to. Visually, Twatwoman is kind of impressive – it’s got a nice feel to it in places, and some very stylistic shots. But I’ve seen MFI products less shaky than the story line, and the acting was so wooden it would’ve fitted in nicely on Eldorado.
Truly, truly awful – don’t let it anywhere near your TV.
Yes, you’re reading that title correctly. And no-one’s more surprised than I am – particularly when you realise that I’m talking about the DVLA. (Driver Vehicle Licensing Agency)
Part of my resolutions for this year is to sort out the driving test, and that’s progressing nicely. However, because I’ve moved, I needed to get my provisional licence updated with the new address, and all that gubbins. Then once I’d booked the test I thought “Oh fock”, and knew I needed to sort out the address change as soon as poss in time for the test.
Now, knowing most governmental bureaucracies, that was going to be an issue. After all, only six weeks to sort it? Never going to happen. I sent it off with fingers crossed. And it’s now back – all in all it took about a week to ten days. New licence with correct address, and new photocard with correct address. Same manky photo, mind. But there we go, nothing’s perfect.
But yes, I’m impressed – particularly when you think of the farce around the theory test, and finding the test centre…
OK, so last night was fairly chilly – around the -6°C mark, which for this part of the UK is pretty chilly. Of course, for Sweden and Canada that almost counts as “summer”, but well, we’re not.
What does still surprise me though is the stupid things people do when it’s cold. As I’ve walked to work this morning (hey, it’s not that cold!) I’ve seen one guy destroy his windscreen by pouring boiling water on it to get rid of the ice. Thermal shock is a wonderful thing to behold. Particularly when it happens to someone else.
The other thing is that – were I that way inclined – I could’ve easily stolen four cars this morning. Not manky ones either – a Lexus L300, a Mitsubishi Shogun, an MR2, and an MG ZF. All of them had been left with the engines running to warm up/de-ice before their owners came back out of the house to a nice warm car. Or alternatively, to a space where their car used to be.
If you’re that much of a fanny that you can’t stand being in a cold car for a couple of minutes, buy a remote starter and all the gubbins. If you leave your car outside, with the keys in, while you go back to the house to stay warm then a) you’re a fanny, b) you stand a chance of getting your car nicked and c) you’re utterly uninsured for it. So not only are you a tosser, you’re a stupid tosser.
