The hypertext online internet web log of Chris

4 months have passed since my last blood donation and yet again I took myself down to Gorse Hill to donate blood.

I was running early from work so I had to wait around for 20 minutes. There were a few people there waiting too, but I couldn’t be bothered to talk so I put on my iPod and ate a plum outside. (I already had the plum with me, I didn’t go scrumping.)

In doing so, about three additional people came in and I lost my place in the queue. They knew I was there first, but I guess that’s my loss if I want to walk around instead of lurking outside the room. “MUST GIVE BLOOD AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE!”

I’d misplaced my forms, so I had to start over and fill out a new questionnaire. I had an iron test and the blood drop blobbed and floated in the right direction.

“Are you ok having a plaster?”

Yes… :/

What is it with plasters? Are people really allergic to them or something? (Yes)

The nurse went through all my questions and yet again they have to double check I’m not a malaria risk. I will definitely make a little list of countries I’ve been to so they at least write it in the correct order. It’s an effort to list every country in the right order and then have it questioned.

“So you went to Australia in between?”

No, we went the wrong way round and then went there last.

“Oh… ok. Anyway, that’s fine, thank you.”

I had some water and ignored the bloke next to me. I could tell he wanted to say something, but I just didn’t want to talk blood. Opening line at the blood bank… “Is this your first time?” It’s a winner. You can then go on to talk about how many times, and whether you was sick or anything, or your favourite blood-bank.

I was then led to my table. The nurse (she’s a nurse right?) caught my surname and it turned out she was the mother of an old school friend. Apparently they are doing well, with children, which is nice to hear. (Honestly, I’m not being funny. I’m not trying to be anyway.)

The donation took 7:02 minutes and I gave 470ml (like everyone does).

I felt fine afterwards, had some complimentary tea, Penguin chocolate biscuits, some crisps, and a Special K bar.

I made my way home as usual. A pretty uneventful and boring blog.

Should I mention I had 5 pints of Guinness that night? Had a great time talking Street Hawk, Airwolf and Knight Rider… and Jeremy Beadle.

See ya.

So every night I guess I have about 5 different dreams (or chapters of dreams) that I can remember quite clearly. I either remember most of the dream, or I remember that it happened.

People claim that dreaming helps to sort out all the information from the day and it’s either remembering something or forgetting something when you experience it in a dream.

So why do I dream every night about pretty much the same things that all happened 15 years ago?

Here’s some brief descriptions of some regulars:

The paper-round
It’s a Sunday morning and I’m in my old house from the 1990s. I get a phone call or I wake up realising that I have overslept and am late to do my paper-round. Sometimes I haven’t got my bike handy so I’m running up to the shop and end up doing the whole round on foot. Due to it being Sunday, all the papers are mixed (Mirror, Mail etc). I end up getting the houses mixed up and inevitably mess up the whole lot because I’m papers short at the end.

I’m my current age of 29 years old in this dream. Why do I care about my paper-round after all this time? I did a paper-round for about 5 years, morning and afternoon, and Sundays. Is it now a permanent nocturnal occupation?

Old school mates
I’m going about my normal day and suddenly there’s an old friend from primary school. They look exactly the same as when they were 10, but they are like 5 foot 11 tall. We’re really good friends. Like really good.

I’ve not seen or heard of these people for nearly 20 years. Why are they in my dream?

Bald
It’s a normal day, just happen to look in the mirror and I’m bald or really thinning on top. I panic and try to check the hairline. the more I check the balder I appear.

This seems like an obvious one. I’m nearly 30, I’ve pretty much got all my hair, but I’m sub-consciously worried about losing my hair. Obviously. Except I’ve been having this dream for 15 years. Why?? I’m not worried about it all the time.

Teeth
Pretty much the same. I check in the mirror and I have a wobbly tooth. The more I check, then more teeth fall out. Some are dangling off of nerves or blood veins.

Again, I must be worried about losing my teeth. I wore a brace for 3 years or so at school. Not just a normal brace, but at night I had to wear this strap that went around my neck. The strap would put the teeth backwards to correct an overbite. I didn’t really mind this and I’ve got a pretty decent set of teeth. Why must I be bored by this recurring dream every other week?

Paralysed
I suddenly realise that I cannot move, speak or breath properly. I tell my self that I need to wake up and I start to struggle. I fail at first, but I eventual wake up after a panic.

This one’s just annoying. I usually just fall straight back asleep though. Why do I think I’m paralysed or smothered in this dream. I don’t get this one so much any more, but it was happening every night a few years back.

Football
There’s a group of us playing football in a match that seems really important. The game is set in a normal field, but along the way the surroundings change a little and sometimes it’s mixed up with a shop or something. The game seems to be a matter of life or death. At times I’m really good and scoring the odd goal, at other times I realise that I am either bare-foot or wearing some really clumpy shoes. If I’m wearing clumpy shoes, I usually end up punting the ball miles over the goal and lose the game.

I rarely play football, and I rarely even think about football. I’m pretty rubbish too. Since the age of about 13 I stopped supporting my local team and don’t really even care if England win or lose. It’s just another sport to me, the same way badminton is. I couldn’t care less about the results, but I’ll happily watch it. So why do I play football more in my sleep than I ever have in real life? And are my shoes clumpy….?

Anyway, good night.

Here’s a list of things that make you a scav. (Some of which I do)

• Eat hot/smelly food in the office
• Shout between rooms or floors in a house
• Lazily run out of credit on your phone
• Have ketchup on a roast dinner
• Swear in the presence of strangers
• Drink a fizzy drink in the morning
• Have audible music coming from your headphones
• Eat your lunch before 11:00
• Use a phone in a bathroom or toilet
• Eat food in the street
• Swear at work
• Wear your outdoor shoes indoors
• Drop cigarette butts in the drains
• Jump queues
• Drink coffee to wake up
• Drop litter or fly-tip
• Use your phone during meal times
• Don’t recycle or even try to recycle
• Touch TV screens with your dirty finders
• Bite your nails
• You are on first name terms with a take-away
• Use any type of tape to permanently fix car panels
• Have the colour settings too high on a TV
• Drink really strong orange squash
• Have more than a spoon-sized amount of ketchup
• Drink alco-pops when you are 25
• Scuff your feet every step
• Have all brown food at your buffet
• Use the lift for 1 floor
• Leave your old TV in your front garden

Today, for only the second time in my medium sized life, I went to give blood. They sometimes host a session at my work, but I left it a bit late and booked in at Gorse Hill Community Centre instead.

I had already completed my lifestyle and travel questionnaire,  so the nurses could quickly get on with checking my eligibility.  I wasn’t grilled or accused of any unprotected act, paid for or otherwise. They checked the countries I had been to last year.  There was a quick iron test and then I was lead through to the donors’ area.

On the way through I was asked to drink a pint of water. Due to the treats we had at work for Children in Need, I wasn’t really hungry enough to neck it.

“Just pretend it’s a lovely cold lager!” , she said.

The universally accepted assumption is that everyone just loves alcohol. I’m not offended or anything, just amused that a nurse would encourage such mentality. If it was indeed a lovely cold lager, she shouldn’t be making me binge drink.

I was asked to sit up on the hospital bed thing, so I swung my winkle-pickers up and lay back awaiting instructions. The donation went through in about 15 minutes.

“Are you ok to have a plaster?”

Yeah, should be fine.

I sat in the recovery area (a small table) and was offered a cup of tea. Yes, please.

“The thing about tea, is that everyone likes it different…..”, he shared.

Not strictly true I thought. I know he was just filling the grumpy silence I give off, but it’s an odd thing to open up a conversation with something so obviously false.

He went on to talk about roadworks, traffic, complicated payslips, and how many miles he does when he’s working in Oxford.

“Contraflows scare me….”, he added.

To be honest, when I’m giving blood, I’m not there to make friends. It was 5:30, so I’m not judging him badly for just being friendly. I could chat all day to a mate, but I’m not going to waste it on a stranger.

Next time a stranger wants to chat, I’m going to invite them out on a date. Male or female. That’ll learn ya.

Christopher Mark Whitlock
A) White – British
Blood Group : O RH Positive

This is a sequel to Blood and biscuits

Good morning, how are you?
Do you have the correct change?
What seat would you like?
Do you have a moment for Oxfam?
Can I interest you in a free sample?
Ice and lemon?
Would you like to go large for £1 extra?
After this call could you spare a minute to answer some questions?
Did you know that these are on 3 for 2 at the moment?
Are you OK with your packing?
Can you spare any change?
Do you have any proof of age?
Would you like to upgrade your mobile phone?
Can you put your card in the reader?
What type of bread would you like for your sub?
Did you bring your eco bags?
Are you collecting computers-for-schools vouchers?
Would you like the meal deal with a drink for 50p extra?
Do you have a Nectar card?
Would you like your receipt in the bag?
Did your trousers fit?
How was your weekend?
Table for two?
Can I interest you in a catalog?
Did anyone help you with your purchases today?
Would you like a hand and nail scrub?
Do you have any smaller notes?
Big Issue?
Chilli-sauce?
Can I see your ticket?
Would you like to top-up your mobile phone?
Do you have the time?
Would you like to save 10% with our store card?
Single or double?
Would you like cashback?

Yes, actually. Can I have £20 please?

I don’t give masses of money to charity, but I think that in the last month or two, I’ve given the most I ever have.

There has been at least 5 sponsorship forms flying around the office, and I just can’t say no to all the girls in pink doing ‘Race for Life’.

I reckon that in an average year, I will give about £100. That’s not a lot, but it’s enough from one person. It certainly compensates for the fact that I never ask anyone to sponsor me. I have never done anything for charity, except donate.

I was looking on the Oxfam site this morning and was considering making a donation. I looked at the gifts section to get a gauge of how far a fiver would go. I saw one for £6.

“School dinners for 100 children”

Brilliant, an excellent perspective for my small donation. Except when I saw that it had sold out!

Due to huge demand for this gift, it’s not currently available – sorry!

Have they run out of Chicken Twizzlers or something?

I also saw this example:

“£10 can buy food to feed a hungry family for a month.”

Oh brilliant! That means if I only donate my £5, then in a fortnight  I’ve got a dead family on my hands.

I’m under the impression that if your immune system is going to call it quits at a bout of flu, then it’s probably time to accept your fate.

Just don’t mention this view to anyone.

“Yeah, except if you’re having chemotherapy!”

Oh, brilliant. How do I talk myself out of this one?

Damn it.

Obviously I’m not talking about people that are terminally ill or going through extremely risky treatment for an illness that kills hundreds of thousands of people a year. That’s mental, I’m not making light of cancer, but if you die because you get flu, then you’re not going to last very long anyway, cancer or not.

That is, I don’t care about cancer for the sake of a stupid comment about swine-flu.

I’m obviously joking. I’m obviously not saying that people with any form of cancer are destined to die. Although, some will.

I’m especially not saying they should die from swine-flu. At least let the cancer kill them if they are going to die.

Anyway, why am I talking myself out of a situation that never even got this far? Because I’ve been arguing with myself about it.

What right do you have to play the cancer card to my stupid joke?

You played the cancer card!

Your friend has cancer, so I can’t joke about Swine-flu?????

That’s just wrong, and so is cancer.

I’ve been wondering for a while whether or not to do a more diary-type blog entry on this blog.

At the moment I’ve kept it to short random thoughts that I believe are either deliberately stupid, just an insult, or a deliberate joke that I’ve constructed. By telling you this, it kind of ruins the point. I think some are quite clever, but are so unfunny that they just come across as stupid. Which is great. Because that means you haven’t understood that it’s a joke. Which is the point.

So I think maybe an diary-type update here or there would be good. Then I can shoe-horn in a subtle “joke” when I fancy. Any stories on here are true and the so-called (by me) jokes are usually because I’ve thought of them whilst out-and-about or in-and-around. I don’t “work” on thinking of things to write on here. Except this entry…

I’ve also been thinking of making a “Facebook status” compilation. I think I’ve wasted some good one-liners on there. One-liners that I haven’t stolen from a “Funny Status” website. Anyway, they are long gone now.

I have a perfectly average life. A few downs, a few ups. That way, I’m never devastated, but I’m not usually too impressed either. I’m normally happy at least. Would anyone even read it? I don’t mind.

So, maybe I will, maybe I won’t. At least that’s for certain.

I love hearing this excuse for having a little extra weight.

The thing is, it doesn’t even make sense. How can a massive belly and double chin be attributed to having a wide frame?

Tell you what, go to the gym everyday for a month, and then see how big boned you are.

When was the last time you saw a fat skeleton?

I can not think of a more pointless gimmick for a religious holiday than a chocolate egg.

Except for Christmas presents, Mother’s Day cards, Valentine cards, and pancakes.

The 4-day weekend is more than enough for me.