Rafael Meavitali

Just One More Time

Before I had Laser Tattoo removal on a really ugly tattoo I got on a stag do, back when I was younger, I used to be able to lie down, pull my feet and legs back and spring up like a ninja, straight in to a standing position. I’m not even lying! This is not like one of those stories you tell when you have drunk six pints and can’t tell what is real and what is fake: I really could do that.

For some reason, while trying to sleep last night I had this on my mind. Something was bugging me: could I still achieve this miraculous physical feat? Or were my days as a springing ninja relegated to the past? To a youth better left alone–

No, of course not! I was just the same. Maybe a little heavier, but surely just as agile and fit as I had been aged twelve.

So I got up, did some stretches, and prepared to do the feat.

Lying down on the floor I was nervous. I had to do it quietly, you see, otherwise I would wake my other half up.

Carefully, I drew my feet towards my chest and prepared to spring forward. Then came the butterflies, and a moment later I threw myself in to it with full commitment–

I landed hard on my hip, having twisted slightly and not quite pushed up enough (seeing as my abdominal muscles were now non-existent; I’d forgotten how big a part they played in the ninja flick-up). It hurt, but you know what? As I crawled back in to bed I was smiling because at least I had tried.

I wasn’t smiling when I woke up, however…It felt as if a truck had run over my belly–

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The Illusion…

Every now and again, when drifting off in to that universal place that isn’t quite sleep and isn’t quite made up of sensical thought, I end up reminiscing about things from my childhood. This happened to me just now (just after thoughts of ’why is the bum bag such a hallowed thing in Germany?’): I was thinking about those salt and shake crisps you used to get–the ones where you yourself got to salt your own crisps!

How brilliant?

In a time before driving, adulthood and decision making, having my own little packet which contained salt was a big deal for me (and I still like to partake in a bit of this whenever I get a chance, it has to be said). At this young age my father used to tell me that I was “the chosen one” and that not every little boy got a small blue bag in his packet of crisps. No, I was indeed ’special’.

Years later I would discover that, alas, I was no more special than about a million other very ordinary children, but still, the illusion wasn’t ruined. I still look back upon opening up my first bag of salt and shake crisps with the same awe and wonder that Charlie did when he came across his amazing golden ticket.

Praise the little things, that’s what I say. The little things are just as important as the bigger things, and I think us as a civilization would do well to remember that.

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Granny Scammed

I used to work in the local corner shop. I say “used to”, but actually it feels like another life-time. In that life-time I had pipe-cleaner arms (incapable of lugging about the heating oil out the back) and spikey hair like Sonic The Hedgehog. My appalling ability to add and subtract correctly is about the only thing that has stayed the same.

Confidence wasn’t something that came easy to me back then, and the queues that used to form – sometimes numbering as many as twenty hostile grannies in a line that snaked well out of the shop – didn’t exactly help. The number one thing I was terrified of wasn’t the grannies themselves (and it was always grannies, never old men), but what happened when the till broke down and I had to do all the adding up MYSELF.

When this happened, I became frozen with fear, and nothing my maths teacher had attempted to teach me would surface. Then, on top of that, you had the times when the grannies would say “how about I just give you the five pence, and you give me the six and the eight back?” Usually I wouldn’t be able to work out what the hell they were on about, and so I would just let them take the correct change out of my hand.

After a while I noticed that the till didn’t add up, and my manager was increasingly irritated for apparently good reason. That was when I knew it: I had been granny-scammed!

After that I always brought a calculator in. No way were them grannies messing with me another second!

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Bestest Memories

Some of my bestest memories of childhood (bestest was a word that I liked to use a lot) are of things that I no longer even think about. It seems strange they don’t even cross my mind anymore, when as young-uns, we used to spend whole summers doing all that fun stuff. Swinging on swings and booting other children with your feet, burning slugs alive with a magnifying glass. Ah, blissful memories of all the great things that we now know are a lot of fun, but just as wrong as chin implants. Still, they were fun though. Though please don’t attempt to murder a slug because of me.

I was walking through the park the other day when I passed some swings that were begging to be ridden. I looked about me for other adults who might possibly judge me to be a complete idiot, then I threw caution to the wind and ran over like a giddy child. Then the fun started, wondrous and taking me right back to how things used to be. Back in the days before alcohol, women, responsibilities and love. How it was good to go back to that time and just have nothing else to think about. Until I started getting really high–

It was then that I realized that I didn’t know what to do–had I really jumped off at this height? Me, as a small child? It seemed impossible and dumb, and then it happened–I chucked myself off.

And landed in a heap of sore old man body and miserable regret.

But it was fun. I plan to do it a lot more from now on.

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The Whole Truth

Carbon emissions are something that have been discussed for ages. But how many of us actually know how much we are putting in to the atmosphere? As big a problem as carbon emissions are, I can’t help but come to the conclusion that most people think this subject doesn’t really concern them. In fact, some even think of it as a joke. “It concerns the big businesses”, they say, “I’m not doing any harm!” Now, while it may be true that the big industries are largely at fault, that’s not to say that the individual is absolved of responsibility.

At the link you’ll discover more on this. Not only that but you’ll find out where you can go to measure your own carbon emissions and what that figure actually means: check out this article at Enigin Advice.

The simple fact of the matter is this: if you are a living, breathing thing, then you are, in some way, contributing to that great big hole in the ozone layer. Most animals can consider themselves less damaging (apart from cows, of course, and we all know what they do…) but us humans just can’t, can we? No. We drive cars and get in planes and burn all kinds of awful things…no less than all the time! And, while that might not change any time soon, at least by looking at our emissions we can become more aware. That’s the key as far as I’m concerned. Once we have awareness then we can make a proper start on tackling this important issue head-on.

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I Am A Slave

I admit it: I am a slave to microwave food. It is as vital to the world as Tattoo removal is to people who get drunk and have I LOVE YOU! scrawled across their forehead. I love it (microwave food that is, not forehead tattoos). It is excellent, quick, and almost as good as the real thing. Curries, puddings, eggs, all of it. But there is one thing that should never, ever be cooked in the microwave. Yes, you all know what I’m talking about, don’t play dumb: I am talking about the crime that is cooking bacon without the aid of oil and a pan!

It’s disgusting, it really is. More than that! It’s despicable! OK, so the bacon may look edible when cooked inside the microwave, and it may smell like any other kind of bacon to the bacon-novice, but it is not the same. It is limp, a funny pink colour, and not of this world. Powerful a tool as the microwave is, it cannot compete with the humble yet magnificent frying-pan. And it needn’t bother either. The battle was fought and won the moment microwaves came on to the market.

It’s serious business, this. It should not be treated as a joke!

The main reason why cooking bacon in a pan is advantageous, of course, is simply this: you can cook it until it is wonderfully crispy–You can cook it until it is the most delicious and excellent food on earth. But what do you get from the microwave? Little is the answer! It resents crispy bacon. It resents everything which does not utilize new-fangled microwave energy!

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The Ruiners

Fruit: we all love it; well, almost everyone except really stupid people who complain they are fat and they have no idea how it happened. Fruit is awesome, I mean, what’s not to like about fruit? It’s soft, healthy and pretty great considering it evolved out of carbon and gas. But ask yourself, have you ever met anyone who liked to eat spoiled fruit? I am yet to meet anyone who does. So why, then, is it that you go to the supermarket and turn orange after orange over, only to discover they have been dropped? And not just dropped. A lot of them look like they’ve been bulking up Mike Tyson’s punch-bag.

A few months ago, sick of finding soiled fruit, I decided to take a stand against one of these culprits. It was very simple. All I had to do was wait near the fruit and pretend I wasn’t paying the fruit the slightest bit of attention. Sure enough, after half an hour of patient waiting, I found my culprit and prepared to pick some bones–

The second orange fell with an audible bang. The bang, as a fruit lover can empathize with, was the sound of the orange dying instant death. I watched it roll across the floor, and resisted the urge to pick it up and rub it better. Instead I followed the culprit—a bearded old man who should have known better—and waited for him to leave his trolley. Then I exacted revenge. This consisted of me bashing all his fruit nice and hard, thus ruining it. The best part? I turned them over so he wouldn’t notice! He’d only have discovered something was wrong after he got them in to the house. And how I would have LOVED to see his big annoying culprit face-

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Bright Side!

Be happy! Think positive! Look on the bright side! It’s not as bad as all that! These are all things which work well when you’re having a bad day at the office, but have a negative effect in times of great stress that look set to have a dubious outcome.

Take what happened to me when I used to work on a farm. I was operating some heavy machinery when I got my leg stuck in a machine (a fold in my jeans had been sucked in; my calf was heading towards an extremely dangerous piece of spinning metal equipment).

I tried not to panic, which, as anyone who has been in such a situation knows, is quite hard when staring certain loss of limb in the face. Somehow I managed to reach the emergency button, and the machinery stopped. But by that time my leg had been clamped and squashed in the machine. It wasn’t particularly painful, but I could feel warm blood running down my leg.

When the ambulance arrived I was relieved. But if I’d have known what was to come I might have not bothered pushing the button after all: I was that annoyed.

One paramedic was older and suffering from the evilest stages of hair loss — he kept his mouth shut. The other was younger and kept saying things like “we’ll have you out of there in a jiffy!” and “Ouch, that must be painful, but don’t worry, it could be worse!” When I asked “How could it?” he pointed to his head and winced.

So if you’re a paramedic then here’s some advice. If you find someone with their leg trapped in a machine then be kind, but be realistic. It’s what someone who is about to lose a chunk of their leg would rather hear.

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Chocie

Chocolate: the thing that the whole world revolves around. It’s not money, it’s Dairy Milk, Yorkie, and Milk Tray. It is 75% dark chocolate from the very best producers that powers the thoughts and minds of our generation. Do not be under any illusions people: of you removed chocolate from the shelves tomorrow—that is to say that if a chocolate apocalypse took place—then the world and everything in it would come crashing to a halt. Life as we know it would cease to exist. Think Global Warming is an issue? It’s NOTHING to the thought of all the cocoa beans in the world suddenly vanishing. If that happened there is no doubt in my mind that the effect would be so huge as to stop the world from turning–

So you could say that I am a serious fan of chocolate.

Debates over the best kind of chocolate are, rather than politics, news, economy etc, easily the most talked about things. I was recently on the bus when a debate started at the front, a furious and serious one concerning the rise of the Wispa. I felt that I had to interject with my own thoughts and opinions. I just couldn’t help myself, had to get involved.

My intrusion in to the debate—nice and sharp, so as not to give the two old women to try and fend me off—went as planned: first of all they looked at one another as if I had just asked if I could suck on their eyeballs, and then they began talking at me as if I was deaf, asking what business the rise of the Wispa was to me. I had a come-back prepared, of course: all I needed to do to shut them up was bequeath forward the history of the Wispa, starting with its origins and moving swiftly through the trials and tribulations, up until the present day.

Listen up all of you, I have important news about the val disere chalet bookings for our New Years trip next year. Saturday is the last chance for the overall cost, please get it to me as soon as you can, or you will not, I repeat NOT, be coming!

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The American Office

During my stay in Canada, I was graced with many new television shows. There were some good ones and some terrible ones. King of Queens was a half decent comedy, although without Kevin James, there is really no-one else to create the comedy. Mantracker was possibly my favourite show because of my love for the outdoors and the beautiful landscapes of Canada.

However, one show caught my eye more than the others and that was ’The Office'I am not sure how many Americans, or Canadians know this, but ’The Office'starring Steve Carell, is a copy of an English show which goes by the same name. Created by Ricky Gervais in 2000, the English version gained critical acclaim quickly and went on to become one of the most loved and most successful British comedies of all time. Gervais and co-creator Stephen Merchant have actually written a couple of the American Office episodes themselves.

Whilst the American version is funny, Dwight being one of the funniest characters of all time, I cant help but draw comparisons. Especially when some of the episodes are copied almost word for word from the British version. Also, the comedy in the British version is much more subtle, and bases itself around the embarasment the manager causes and the ensuing awkwardness. The American version does have this, but the comedy is also far more obvious. This is no bad thing however, the latter has produced some great moments.

The one thing I just can’t get over is why the American TV companies felt that they needed to create their own version. Why not just play the British version? It seems to be the American way to take a successful idea and create an American version of it. They do seem to have a lack of creativity about them and it can be quite frustrating to watch from afar. The American Office is funny, and successful, but it is, essentially, a rip-off.

Ski chalets booking looked after everybody, I am looking forward to our annual trip. Next monday is the last chance for the overall cost, please get it to me as soon as you can get it together.

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