No Rest until Blackheath Common by nigeruns

Vampire brides....

Some may say that the 29th February is possibly the most troublesome day of the year. It appears every leap year and means that every forth year we have to work that extra day. Worse still it becomes unlucky for you if you are born on the 29th February, as you are going to have a very long wait for your birthday presents to arrive. Not only that, but you have to work until your two hundred and sixty before you are able to retire  But believe it or not, there is plus side to 29th February, as at least we get an extra day to do our Christmas shopping.

The 29th February is a notorious day, and is one that strikes fear into the heart of every male singleton and bachelor boy around town. By ancient tradition, the 29th February is day that the unattached female of the species is allowed to propose to the male of the species, so not a good day for the likes of me or Cliff Richard, the original bachelor boys.

The 29th is a day to dread, as the singleton has to draw upon his natural instincts and SAS (Singletons attract stalkers) training, as we step into a mine field of potential marriage proposals. So the 29th February is a day that Cliff Richard and I fear for our lives, just in case we hear the rustle of chiffon, and a flutter of a veil, as a vampire bride lurks in a dark alleyway poised to drag her next victim off down the nearest aisle. The chorus of 'For whom the bells toll', is replaced by the 'Wedding march', and it is not long before the vampire bride has got a hold of you, and slipping a ring on your finger, and not forgetting the ball and chain around your ankle.

As the 29th February is declared an open season on the singleton male, Tesco's, one never to miss out on a good thing, are promoting their latest product, 'Marriage in a can', the essential item for the vampire bride. It comes with inflatable vicar, alter, organist and photographer, just add you own congregation and 'hey presto' instant wedding.

So my fellow singletons beware, as you never know when a vampire bride may strike. I had a near escape at work, when a suspect vampire bride crept up on me, aptly disguised as a office temp.  Luckily my heightened senses instantly sprung into action like a coiled spring: "Sorry, I hate to disappoint you" I said, "but I will have to turn your proposal down....". The office temp looked blankly at me, and replied: "I only wanted to give you this fax....!"

My working day is one of wonder. Am I one of a dying bread. Will Cliff Richard and I be last of the singletons, or will a vampire bride sink her fangs in to us all eventually...? There is the wonderment of whether hordes of screaming vampire brides will be waiting for me outside my office, baying for my hand in marriages...? Or will it be like a scene from the 70's when the Osmond's were in town, and the vampire bride's stalked the unfortunate Donny Osmond and held him under siege.

I wonder if I will be like Cliff Richard, and live to be a hundred. Like Cliff, will I be doomed to a life, were hordes of vampire grannies constantly throw their knickers at me....or do I throw myself to the mercy of the vampire brides.....? If I did that, then I would not be the long distance runner with the lonely heart, and the journey would be over. Do I really want the journey to be over...? (29/2/08)

Renee Zellweger made the earth move for me...

A very strange thing happened during the early hours of this morning as I lay in my bed. There we were, Rene Zellweger and I doing the wild thing. When, for some unknown reason, I strangely found myself being catapulted from my place of slumber. It could have been a case of me losing my balance, while Rene and I performed a death defying position from the pages Kama Sutra...? It could have been the shock of discovering that Rene Zellweger does actually wear big pants, or it could have been my reaction, when at the height of our passion, Rene yelled out my name....."Oh Darcy yes yes yes....!!"

Who the f**k is Darcy...?

It is hard to recall why actually I flew out of bed, as at that hour of the morning I was neither half asleep nor half awake. But, what do recall was a loud rumbling that rocked in the darkness, and it was not the snoring from Rene either. My heart started to pound as I felt the room vibrate, which seemed to emulate from behind my wardrobe, then filling the room before disbursing up into the roof.  I switched on the bedside lamp, and it suddenly went quiet. The only sound I could hear was coming from a bird singing outside, which was strange and bizarre, as this was 1am in the morning.

The last time that I felt that scared by anything that went bump in the night, was when I was a youngster.  I would hide under the duvet every Saturday evening with one eye open, after watching another terrifying episode of Dr Who from behind the sofa. While I lay in bed I would listen out for every creek or bump, and I would begin to shake wondering if the Cybermen or the Yeti were lurking in the darkness, ready to get me. 

I still have that fear, though not of the Cybermen or the Yeti, but of things that generally go bump in the night. It is a fear of the unknown and what is out there unseen in the darkness. It is a fear of fear itself, as the mind plays tricks on you from its dark recess’s. But in fact there is nothing to fear at all, as the culprit to the bumps and bangs is usually the local ginger tom, as he has his way with the Persian from next door.

The alarm clock brings another shock to the system, as if I have not had a traumatic night already. I wake to find that my bed is empty. Were my shenanigans with Rene Zellweger all just one of fantasy, and did I also dream those strange and mysterious rumblings...?

It is not until I dive into my bowl of cornflakes, and turn on the radio, that reports come flooding in of an earthquake registering 5.2 on the Richter scale, which in the early hours shook the foundations of the UK. So I wasn't dreaming after all, it was real thing....even Rene Zellweger...? There are reports of devastation, wobbling chimney pots and a parrot that fell off its perch. While the structure of my house was in tact, my two goldfish are swimming around in their bowl looking confused. Firstly, they think that I have installed a Jacuzzi in their bowl, and now they have got their surfboards at the ready, waiting to ride the ensuing tsunami.

The tree huggers are claiming that the earthquake is all down to global warming. The prophets of doom, claim the earthquake is the end of the world. Me, I claim it is a result, as Bridget Jones and her big pants made the earth move for me last night. (27/2/2008)