A Stranger on the Train.....

The other day I was returning home from work on the train, it had been a particularly fraught and long day and therefore, my frame of mind was similarly clouded. There were a number of other passengers already in the carriage when I entered, sitting in the rather shabby green striped seats, some chatting with their fellow travelling companions, others reading books or newspapers, most just gazing out of the windows, minding their own business. I selected a free seat, without much aforethought and as the train pulled away, I looked forward to the conclusion of the journey when I’d arrive at the small apartment I call home. Although if the truth be known, I was more looking forward to a large glass of red that would be the first thing I’d attend to upon entering.

I like some of my fellow commuters without companions or other diversions of the various forms of written words, gazing out of the window and the scenery rushing past at an unknown speed. However, my absentminded mental meanderings were drawn back from the world outside the carriage to two young gentlemen sitting facing each other across the aisle from my position.  There were tossing banter between themselves, whilst they weren’t unduly loud, due to the close proximity of the seating in the carriage, I couldn’t help but overhear their exchanges.  They were jolly as their word play went back and forth like a ball between rackets in a game of tennis, and whilst perhaps they were not always the most verbally dextrous utterances, all seemed to contain an element of humour and jollity. It amused me and whilst I tried not to listen, I couldn’t help myself, occasionally smiling along with a particularly funny remark or verbal volley.  Of course, my interest was also held by the fact that these two gentlemen, of mid-twenties estimated age, were rather easy on the eye; furthermore,  one was captivatingly pretty and yes, I do mean pretty. His face, pure and unblemished, his dark hair cut short in a modern, yet timeless style, his eyes shining brightly and reasonably well-sized red lips rendered his face an almost jaw-dropping angelic beauty. Repeatedly during the slightly camp oral bat and ball game, he referred to himself by name, Michael Wilson, a name that entered my conscious mind and has since never left, a name that has sounded itself during dreams and more wakeful moments. My mood was lifted beyond any expectation or probability, and thus as the train arrived at my station, I really should have offered him, them a heartfelt thank you.

I saw his face, I know his name, he’ll never know mine, and yes, he was only a stranger on a train, our lives overlapped for less than thirty minutes, yet I know I’ll remember him and that moment forever. So wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, Michael Wilson, I thank you sincerely.

© 2014 Copyright



Maybe it's time to take another journey.......have you ever met a stranger on a train and formed a friendship or a relationship?  Have you ever encountered a face in the crowd that has stayed with you for many months, years or decades? 

The cathartic effects of getting dirty!

Never underestimate the cathartic experience of getting dirty! There I was the other morning, hadn’t slept particularly well, kept thinking all manner of things relating to Matt and that whole situation, which prevented slumbers' sweet escape from washing over me. It’s funny how strange, sometimes silly things bring back memories of happier times, for example, even now, in my head, I still play the ’Punch Herbie/Slug Bug’ game each time I see a VW Beetle! I giggle to myself and sometimes aloud. 

A friend asked me what the hardest part has been about the whole ‘USA Drama Thing’ as he called it, and after thinking for a good long while, I have to say that it probably is the lack of communication. OK, so the lack of relationship is a pretty big gap in life, but the lack of communication from him, before, during and after has been the most hurtful and most difficult to cope with. It raises far more questions than answers, and prevents any further dialogue between us. It also leaves me unable to scratch that itch of wondering how he is. It may sound a little odd given the circumstances, but I still do care for him. He may have fallen out of love with me and dumped me, but I didn’t fall out of love with him, and love is not something I can just turn off like a tap, or faucet if you're American. Which means I am constantly wondering about where he is, what he’s doing, and more importantly, if he’s OK. I could listen to the gossip from his friends, and believe that he’s going downhill, and downhill fast, that he is drinking and smoking and doing drugs, that he’s starting to be really dirty and having sex in public restrooms again. 

These things and more well up in my mind, and it’s all to do with the lack of contact, the cessation of all communications. I can’t recall any other relationship where contact was withdrawn like this; perhaps that’s because up until now, I’ve always been the one to bring things to their conclusions, to their natural or unnatural end. Well, with the exception of Ed, with whom I’d lived for a number of years, and who ended our cohabitation and life together with the rather clinical “We have come to the end of the road of our relationship” It may have been clinical, perhaps a little cold, but it was accurate, succinct, to the point. But that didn’t stop us from being in contact with each other, indeed, a few times after reaching that particular cul-de-sac on life’s highway, we’d meet up and well......get passionate. In fact, don’t tell anyone, but I have to say that during one of those meetings we had some of the most rewarding and passionate sexual experiences of my life, for which I will always thank Ed the ex for, albeit silently and only on the pages of this here blog - it’s OK, he doesn’t read it! 

 All my other past relationships have come to an end on my terms at a time of my choosing and doing, but one thing I have done, and that is remained on at least speaking terms with all of them that wanted it. Just to end all forms of communication would be extremely cruel, calloused and hateful, not something I think I have the ability or desire to be. It was with these thoughts raging in my head and long with other more practicalities, such as taking the photos off the wall, packing away the silly cuddly plushy toys and other keepsakes and memorabilia that laid me low the other morning. I needed to clear my head, cleanse my body and something that would not take either money or too much brain power. I decided the bike would be the way to go. I needed a ride, I’ve started to pile on a few pounds since coming back from America again, something to do with the eating of American chocolate, which is, was and always will be my favourite. 

 The day previous had been wet and rainy, but the other morning was dry and clear, the blue skies masking the true temperature of the outside world. I started well, down the road towards Shoreham, no route or plan in my mind, just a little ride, not far, not long, just to get some fresh air and blow the cobwebs out. I’m not sure if I was on auto pilot, or the sounds of Death Cab For a Cutie, The Postal Service and Bright Eyes on the iPod was distracting me, but I found myself on the bridge over the river Adur, forward was the relatively dry roads around Shoreham Airport, behind me, the relatively dry road from which I’d just come. To the left of me, the dryish footpath leading the main road and cycle route along Shoreham Beach, and finally to my right, the Downs Link Way, which is a rather well used path way, but mainly on unsealed ground! Guess which way I chose? 

At first, it was easy going, I built up a little speed, the damp ground of the gravel kicking up under the tyres a little, not a soul to see, just me, the freedom, the air. I cycled a bit faster, indeed top gear and as fast as my little legs could force the pedals round. Then the nice dry gravel gave way to mud, forcing me to navigate large pot holes filled with water, sloppy mud sides and heavy overhanging branches. It would have been easy to avoid such puddles, pools and mud had I been flying, or chosen a different route, but I wasn’t, and I didn’t. I was belting along, trying my best to steer round the biggest and deepest baby lakes of dirty muddy water, then I thought, what the hell, and cycled straight through the next one. Well, come on, there’s no point going off-road cycling in the damp, in the winter if you don’t wanna get wet, nor dirty for that matter. Suddenly, for the first time in months, I felt alive as the coldness of the water soaked through the trakkie bottoms I was wearing. My body tingled as the mud splattered up from the rapidly turning wheels all over my back, front side and head. I got to Bramber, not a mammoth distance, I’ll readily admit, but a great halfway point, from which I could have cycled back along the roadway, but nope, call me Queen Silly of the Silly people if you wish, but there was only one way back for me. Yep, back along the muddy track, that is the Downs Link. I’ve never been so wet, so muddy and dirty, even in my surprisingly well-kempt youth, as I was then, a couple of days ago. Brown chunks of mud clung to my face, my jacket was now three colours, white, blue and mud and my trakkie bottoms, well lets just say they have since dried to be a solid lump of earth with a waistband!

My muscles may have ached, my clothes may have been ruined, my face stinging from the wind, but my mind - cleared, refreshed indeed cleansed. For the first time in over a month, I felt like the real me again!

More soon, hopefully. Comments are always welcome, so thanks in advance!!

Hours and hours and more hours

The frustrations of working in a call centre have increased tenfold this last couple of weeks as the company has seen fit to introduce a new rota of working hours with little under two weeks’ notice.  It is an eleven week rolling rota that seems to have no redeeming qualities and lacks any form of worker friendliness. There is little uniformity or even normality within its schedule of shifts, some of which have increased in length by three or so hours and I’ve yet to hear any of my colleagues utter positive words about it.  One of the key things I detest about this new schedule is a 30% increase in the number of late shifts, another aspect is the varying start times expected during the working week, thus rendering routine redundant. For example, one such week rolls along like this,  Monday 0900 – 1730, Tuesday 0800 – 1700, Wednesday 0800 – 1630, Thursday 0830 – 1700, Friday 0830 – 1700. Another week sees me doing 1230 – 2100 on a Monday, 1030 – 2100 on the Tuesday, 1230 – 2100 on Wednesday, a later start on the Thursday whilst still working till 2100 and another 1230 – 2100 to round the week off. It’ll also mean I’ll be working three complete weekends and an additional three part (Saturday only) weekends. On top of timing frustrations is the revelation that bonus payments have come down, by £50 per month if individual targets are reach. It may not sound a lot, but when you’re working a minimum wage job, 50 quid is two weeks’ worth of groceries and money I can ill afford to lose.    I could pontificate further of my dissatisfaction over a number of other work related issues, yet it’ll only bore you silly and cloud my happy mood whilst also give the impression that I’m noting but a stinky whinger,  so I’ll stop here. 

I suppose there is always a general sense of despondency when you realise you’ve made yet another mistake along life’s troubled highway,  still we learn from our mistakes,  don’t we?

© 2013 Copyright to Jason Shaw

I AM - HOME - HORSE

(2026 Edit - this post is from the archive and was first published on 6 July 2013 at 18:06. Things, facts and views may have changed since then. Removed are dates and links to a previous tour. ).

That Scottish singer with a voice of and unusual name and a voice like pure gold is back with another single and album!  Yes,  Horse Macdonald has released a single called I Am which has been lovingly remixed by Rocket Science, the team who mixed the new forthcoming album 'HOME', and is now available to download here.   Top telly chat show host Graham Norton has already given it the tune his seal of approval by playing on his Radio 2 weekend show!

For those of you who don't know, I've been a fan of Horse for many a year,  since I worked at a radio station in Sussex and heard the lovely song God's Home Movie. I was amazed by the moving song, but moved to tears by a voice that is pure, unique, and so achingly beautiful that one could listen to it every hour of every day for a decade and still not grow tired of it.  But don't just take my word for it,  Q Magazine said she was 'One of the finest singers in Britain". Iain Banks confirmed she has "A voice like folds of very rich chocolate", and the Scotsman says "Her voice wraps us up like a great big duvet".   She's opened and toured with the likes of Tina Turner, BB King, Bryan Ferry and Burt Bacharach.  Will Young has covered one of her songs to critical acclaim. Her first record deal was with EMI/Capital circa 1990, and since then she's released eight albums, her ninth comes out in August  - download 

God's Home Movie

HOME - the ninth Horse album launched on 5th August.

Horse says, "I'm truly proud of this album and delighted to announce it will be officially released on Monday, 5th August. If you can't wait for the download, a physical CD is available for pre-order here, with the opportunity to have it signed with a personal message from me." 

You'll also be able to see her live in Brighton on Saturday, 3rd of August, for an appearance on the women's stage at Brighton Pride. 

Next will be the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, where Horse will be doing a very special acoustic performance at the famous Assembly Rooms on George Street, on Sunday, 4th August.   This will be the launch for the new album HOME, officially released the next day on 5th August.  During that show, Horse will play a few favourite Horse songs, but the main focus is on the songs from the new album. 

Tron Main Theatre, Mon September 9th  Horse will be doing her first masterclass with an audience, where she'll share some of her vast knowledge both as performer and writer, stories from he travels and experience. 

We are seven.......

A simple child that lightly draws its breath,

and feels its life in every limb,

What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage Girl:

She was eight years old, she said.

her hair was thick with many a curl

that clustered round her head.

She had a rustic, woodland air,

and she was wildly clad:

her eyes were fair, and very fair;

Her beauty made me glad.

“Sisters and brothers, little Maid,

How many may you be?”

“How many? Seven in all,” she said,

And, wondering, looked at me.

“And where are they? I pray you tell.”

She answered, “Seven are we;

And two of us at Conway dwell,

And two are gone to sea.

“Two of us in the church-yard lie,

my sister and my brother;

and, in the church-yard cottage, I

dwell near them with my mother.”

“You say that two at Conway dwell,

and two are gone to sea,

yet ye are seven! I pray you tell,

sweet Maid, how this may be.”

Then did the little Maid reply,

“Seven boys and girls are we;

two of us in the church-yard lie,

beneath the church-yard tree.”

“You run about, my little Maid,

Your limbs they are alive;

If two are in the church-yard laid,

then ye are only five.”

“Their graves are green, they may be seen,”

the little Maid replied,

“Twelve steps or more from my mother’s door,

and they are side by side.

“My stockings there I often knit,

my kerchief there I hem;

and thereupon the ground I sit,

and sing a song to them.

“And often after sunset, Sir,

when it is light and fair,

I take my little porringer,

and eat my supper there.

“The first that died was sister Jane;

in bed she moaning lay,

till God released her of her pain;

and then she went away.

“So in the church-yard she was laid;

and when the grass was dry,

together round her grave we played,

my brother John and I.

“And when the ground was white with snow,

and I could run and slide,

my brother John was forced to go,

and he lies by her side.”

“How many are you, then,” said I,

“If they two are in heaven?”

quick was the little Maid’s reply,

“O Master! we are seven.”

“But they are dead; those two are dead!

their spirits are in heaven!”

’Twas throwing words away; for still

the little Maid would have her will,

and said, “Nay, we are seven!”

William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth - Historic UK

Letter's of the past.

(2026 Edit. This post is from the archive; it was first published on 23 October 2012 at 17:37. Things, facts and views may have changed since then.)

Letters

Image by Margarita Kochneva from Pixabay

You never really know what others think of you until they make it clear in some way, and sometimes when they do, it can come as a complete surprise or even, dare I say, a bit of a shock!

Such an incident happened to me at the end of last week when, out of the blue, a letter arrived from an old, old flame. Before I go on to the contents of that letter, let me tell you the intriguing story of how this physical letter got to me is as remarkable as the contents themselves. For some reason, it was sent to a place I used to work many long years ago, and when I say many, I really do mean many, ten or more at least. Luckily, someone there still recognised my name as they forwarded it to an address I used to live at in Crawley, West Sussex. Luckily, the owner still remained the same as all those years ago, who forwarded it to the Kemp Town flat where I used to reside and from there the lovely Eastern European escorts that occupy the top apartment popped it back in the post with my current abode crammed into one corner.  

Thus, the letter's unusual and utterly remarkable journey from pillar to post had finally come to a wonderfully correct conclusion. Hat’s off to the Royal Mail on this occasion for their endeavours in the delivery of the letter, and deep sentiments of gratitude are expressed to all who had a hand in ensuring its progress continued until, in my hands, it rested.

The contents of the letter, as indeed the letter itself, were a complete surprise and not a particularly happy one. The letter, as I said before, was from an old, old flame from the very dim and distant past. We dated for a relatively short time, perhaps ten or eleven months, maybe a year at the most, during the mid 1990’s. I can’t say how we got together or even why; we certainly came from different places and lived in seemingly different worlds, plus he was a full decade and a half my senior, which only added to the differences between us. Our brief relationship was, I suppose you could say was tempestuous,  fiery would be another word, we were both strong and stubborn personalities, and I dare say we both suffered from the ’I know best’ mantra and philosophy. There were times of great passion, intellectual stimulation and learning, but also times of arguments and anger, which ultimately forced the affair to be a rather dysfunctional one, which led to its inevitable termination.

He loved me, yet always resented and never forgave me for breaking up our ’beautiful’ relationship, at least that’s what his letter informed me. It also told me that he believed we could have ’gone the distance’, which surprised the heck out of me because, from my memory, we were never destined for longevity, and it was he who told me to get out of his car and out of his life when we broke up. 

There were a few other things mentioned in the letter which I have different recollections of altogether; however, I suppose that’s only to be expected, we were two different people and too different people. I would write back to perhaps disagree with his memories of our time together, or rather, offer my side of the story and my views of how it came to a bitter and fractious end. Oh yes, the end was fractious to say the least, when I said earlier he was the one to tell me to get out of his car and out of his life, I meant that literally. We’d been out at an early ‘summer’ party where shorts and shades had been the theme, somewhat surprising really, as it was taking place at the end of January or beginning of February, I forget exactly which after all this time. I, being the typical larger-than-life character full of fun I happily sported rather short black shorts complete with a skull and crossbones design on the front area. In reality, I’ll level with you, these were comic boxer shorts, yet I wore them as over shorts with nothing underneath. I also sported a ripped black ‘Boy’ t-shirt that was about two sizes too small for me, and that was before it had shrunk in the wash!  

I want to say I also had flip flops on, but if memory serves me rightly, I actually sported some Hi-Tec trainers.  It was a private party, and we weren't going anywhere else, which negated my need for cash, plus I had no pockets upon my person anyway. I don’t recall how our argument started or who the instigator was, nor can I remember how it or why it escalated the way it did. No doubt I was partly or even largely to blame, I simply can't recall, but I sure do remember how it ended. We’d gotten halfway back between the location on the south coast of this party and my home in Crawley when he slammed on his brakes, pulled into a lay-by at the side of the road and uttered the infamous last words and the opposite of Billy Ocean, ’get out of my car and out of my life’.  

As I said, I was stubborn back then, so I did, he drove off, and that was the last I ever saw of him. I then simply had no other option other than to walk home during the middle of a January / February night, wearing nothing other than a pair of funny boxer shorts, trainers and a shirt far too small for me.  I can’t say how far the distance was exactly, nor how long the journey took me; all I can say is that by the time I got to my door, the dawn had arrived and people were already on their way to work. I must have had some odd or funny looks from passing commuters. I have no memory, but it wasn't the first time I'd been seen as one of those 'Yesterday's People' coming home the day after a night before!

As I said, I would have written back to him to share my views on the relationship that never was without the benefit of rose-tinted spectacles, yet tucked in the envelope was a small card. The card was a short little note from one of his family members informing me he had recently passed away after a short illness. A surprise indeed, and I’d wished I’d read the note before the letter, a letter which he had written sometime before his death and not sent, rather than the other way around. I also wish he’d have sent the letter before he died as then he’d had gone to his grave with both sides of the story, but that of course isn’t to be, but it just emphasises to me now, how there are always at least two sides to every story, that one person’s truth can seem to be another person’s invention, and I wonder, perhaps we never really know how others see us.

Yes, we're back!

(2026 Edit - This post is from the archive; it was first published on 17 December 2008 at 04:15.  Facts, feelings, and beliefs may have changed since then.)

It's been a long while since I last posted here, sorry about that, let me make it up to you and do a flying thru time update. Oh,    where do I start? There's been so much happening,  and yet so little as well, I'm completely lost at the chronological order of things, so I'll just battle on with the random thoughts of things that have come and gone since I was last bashing the keys of this old laptop! America has a new president, Mr Obama stormed ahead of Palin and the Tortoise to become the first black guy to be elected to such high office over that side of the pond. Will he do a good job? Only time will tell, but let's face it, he probably couldn't do a worse job than Bush.....can he? The economy has pretty much crashed as far as the media is concerned, and the Global Downturn Credit Crunch has well and truly shown its ugly head and is starting to snap at the heels of the normal people like you and I. Well,  actually,  it hasn't really bitten my arse too much so far; in fact, it's had the opposite effect on my life. The VAT rates come down by 2.5%, which, be honest, doesn't sound a lot, does it? But, as a certain supermarket proudly claims, "Every Little Helps!" Also, I love going to the checkout/tills,  thinking it's one price and finding out it's a little bit less. Another good thing about the global recession for me personally is that pretty much all the shops have got their January sales on now, everything seems to be 10, 20 or even 30% off, now that is a result! The only sad fact is that Woollies is no more, yep, sadly, the great discount store Woolworths has not survived the first bite of this dark economic time and gone belly up. Matt and I took a visit up to the Brighton store in Western Road, which felt more like Western Baghdad. It was without a doubt a war zone, I was scared for my life in there, caught in the cross-fire between the bunting and the pick 'n' mix! Anyway, folks, jingle, jingle, jingle all the way, Christmas is coming at such a fast rate that I'm almost knocked arse over tit. Are you ready? Have you done all your shopping? Is everything all sorted? I've done all the presents, I've got all that side of things done, but the food, well, we'll do that at the last moment, so it's nice and fresh, after all, I'm working all the way up until 8am on Christmas morn, oh,  I'm so looking forward to those sprouts and mashed roast potatoes!

Here's Matty!!!! It had been ages since the last blog post, although it really doesn’t seem like it has been such a long time. Time has really flown by since the last posting. Jason and I haven’t been up to too terribly much. We have gone out a few times to Mo’s for dinner, which was nice, and we also went to Portsmouth, which was a unique experience for me. Just last week, Mo had us over for a veggie bake before she took her winter holiday to Oz. There is just something about her cheese sauce that reminds me of home. Maybe it’s because it tastes a lot like white gravy in America, but just a little cheesier. Mo was doing fine along with everyone else in the family, and we had a lovely (Few) bottles of wine and the excellent dinner she made. 

Portsmouth was a few weeks back and was a really neat experience for me. The train ride alone was worth it all. It gave me a really great insight into how different England can be, one minute you're in the middle of a busy city and the next, you're in the middle of farm country. Jason took me to various places in the mall of Portsmouth and around and along, and eventually up the Spinica tower, which we spent most of our time on. Halfway up the tower, there is a glass panel across the floor that you can step on, and while I was treading over it almost nonstop and looking down, Jason stood quite a long way away from it, that is, until I pulled him over it and made him stand on it for at least a little bit. I can’t think of a more unique building like the Spinica tower in the States. It’s really one of a kind.

A little bit after that, Jason and I had our movie and Television series spree, where we watched a few seasons of House and went to the pier to see the starlings fly around in their flocks. They almost look like a giant ink blob that is oozing throughout the sky. Jason won me a Piglet plushie, and I got him a Danger Mouse set. I also found out that I cannot play the game Dance Dance Revolution, or Dancing Stage, for you Europeans anymore. Kind of a shock since I was #1 in America for a while online, and could handle anything really with no problem, only to find that now I tire and fail at even the easiest of stages. I guess if you don’t use it, you DO lose it. Hehe. Lately, Jason and I are having our first Christmas together, Advent calendars, Christmas trees and all. The rents have sent out the majority of the packages that I will be receiving thus far, as I only have 34 days left before I have to head all the way back to Yankeeland (Shudder)… We received a lot of cake mixes, one of which I made a few hours ago for Jason and I to enjoy before he gets home. Along with that was an unexpected birthday present, which was a game card and the expansion of World of Warcraft. Being the gamer/geek/nerd that I am, I had played that game a lot in the past and quit from boredom. However, there is plenty for me to do now, and I was surprised to find that Jason even likes to play a little bit, but if I told you he had a level 13 Blood Elf Warlock, he would probably kill me. (It’s our secret, right?)

Other than all that, nothing else much has happened. We are still just happily living life as it comes, and are happy to have each other's company while we can. I can see the nocturnal amiss closing up the gates of time that I have left here, and even though I don’t really want to think about it and refuse to most of the time, there are some times when I have to think of how I am going to handle getting a New apartment, job, etc., when I get home. It’s a lot to do for a 19-year-old (well -20 tomorrow), but I know I will be able to handle things fine as I always seem to. Don’t sweat the small stuff, just live life as it comes and smile. Other than that I have been working on a few things here and there, attempting to work on a game that I have been making for 1.5 years now which is seemingly becoming more and more unlikely that I am going to finish coding, and writing a collection of short stories that are told like campfire stories which revolve around six teenagers and shows just how fragile people are, regardless of their sexuality and skin colour. Last week, Jason and I went out to the front to get rid of some stale bread, which we threw to dozens and dozens of pigeons, and I had a little surprise of one who was so brave that he (or she) perched on my arm and ate bread right out of my hand. I am pretty sure that is the first time I ever held a bird for more than 2 seconds, and the first time one ate out of my hands. Usually, I am not so hot with animals.   On our way back, we ran into an elderly woman who asked us if we could get her some items from the co-op, which Jason and I happily did and brought them back to her. I wasn’t sure what had happened and why she was left alone, but it worried me that she wasn’t getting enough to eat, and I also wondered how many people took her money and scrammed. Hopefully, she rested with a full tummy, and everything will be alright for her. I think that we are going to check on her later on today as well, just to make sure.

Yesterday we travelled up with a massive suitecase to see the old folks, that are my parents, who, apart from bringing me into the world and are completely mad, were full of fun and happiness and filled us up with egg sandwiches. Tomorrow, Matt and I are off up to the big smoke that is London on Matt's Birthday treat. I won't say too much, as he'll be casting his eyes over this shortly, and I don't want to let the bag out of the cat! 

Matt and I often discuss the cultural differences between our two nations, but I'm proud to be British, and here are just a few reasons why. Only in Britain... can you get a pizza to your house faster than an ambulance. Only in Britain... do supermarkets make sick people walk all the way to the back of the shop to get their prescriptions, while people can buy cigarettes at the front. Only in Britain... do people order double cheeseburgers, large fries, and a DIET coke. Only in Britain... do banks leave both doors open yet chain the pens to the counters. Only in Britain... do we leave cars worth thousands of pounds on the drive and lock our junk and cheap lawn mower in the garage. Only in Britain are disabled parking places in front of the ice skating rink. And just because it's Christmas, here are some more reasons to be proud of our country folk! 3 Brits die each year testing if a 9V battery works by placing it on their tongue. 58 Brits are injured each year by using sharp knives instead of screwdrivers. 31 Brits have died since 1996 by watering their Christmas tree while the fairy lights were plugged in. British Hospitals reported 4 broken arms last year after cracker pulling accidents. 18 Brits had serious burns in 2000 trying on a new jumper with a lit cigarette in their mouth. 5 Brits were injured last year in accidents involving out-of-control Scalextric cars. And finally.........In 2000, eight Brits cracked their skulls whilst throwing up into the toilet. More soon, my little fruit bats!!