Cooking in batches, fresh bedsheets, my first ride in an ambulance, and writers block

Sunday’s… God’s day… Blog day, and for some (me) it’s the day for cooking in batches. You know, big old pot of pasta or rice & *insert complimentary topping here*. Something I’m really digging at the moment is risotto. Man I love risotto, veg and fake chicken, or as I like to call it “ficken” (veggie) (booooooo) (USA! USA! USA! USA!), season these handsomely, add risotto rice to toast for a minute or two, slowly add water to absorb – water must have 4 veg stock cubes osmosised into it - yes 4, c’mon give a man a break you know. Important tip, don’t season with salt – use other seasonings –the veg stock will add that saltiness… mamma mia it is belissimo, you know?  I always saw risotto as posh people rice… not self proclaiming to be posh now at all, but I’ve ventured into the classy side of rice these past couple weeks and it’s really working for me. Maybe I should start wearing boat shoes? It’s also one of them, a bit like a Chinese (takeaway, not person), where it tastes better the longer you leave it you know? (not too long cause it will go off of course).

I like to get shit done on a Sunday… it’s a day for getting shit done… do a bit of housecleaning you know? And by housecleaning I mean I move a few things around in the sole bedroom I rent off my live-in-landlord and change my bedsheets… so I’m a liar is what I’m trying to say.

Here’s a nod to fresh bedsheets – is there much better? I’d like to revise last week’s blog title to – ‘a haircut and fresh bedsheets can really change a guy’. Because that shit’s like hitting factory reset. Fresh haircut? You’re whistle walking down the street. Fresh bedsheets? You’re sleeping like the dog from Tom & Jerry. Both on the same day? You are rejoiced… welcome to the afterlife my sir, tuck in… because you’re about to feel something special.

I’ve had a bit of a torrid week this last week. Last Sunday I was in A&E until 3:30am, so it was in fact not a day for rejoice… (I’m not sure I’m using the right word here but let’s roll with it)

I was cooking (not in batches) a curry (that’s probably where I went wrong), when I suddenly took a turn for the worst and lost control of my legs. Next thing I’m mid-collapse and “went all weird” -  is the only way I can describe it. I thought I might’ve just been hungry or something, so I ate.

Then the panic kicks in… I’m all dizzy, feeling like my head’s full of raging wasps and heavy metal (the material not the music) at the same time? So I phoned Leah to try and settle the nerves cause I’m not sure what’s real or not at this point, I made that age old mistake of googling my symptoms and came to the conclusion I had about an hour to live, so she hurried over (bless her) – she lives 45 minutes away and took a train and taxi to get to me – what a gem. When she arrived it was about 9pm ish and I’d been dying for 2 hours by this point, she says I was staring into space, not finishing my sentences, slurring words and not answering anything she was saying (shock I do this anyway I’m so sorry). So anywaayyyyyy… she phones 111, speaks to the handler on my behalf because I’m genuinely having issues forming any sentences… next thing there’s 3 paramedics in my room. I’m like iesu grist this must’ve been a hell of a weird curry, I’ve probably just got a bit of naan bread lodged somewhere weird. They do some tests etc in my room, but we’re limited with space there cause there’s not enough room to hang a disco ball if you know what I mean? (hello Caleb & Jay if you’re reading) – that’s an inside joke.

Next thing I’m taking my first trip in an Ambulance getting my head moidered by the paramedic, nice enough bloke and fair play he had just saved my life – that’s deffo a lie btw but it adds dramatic effect (I’m storytelling let me embellish). He’s telling me he knows all these celebrities (I’d never heard of them) and I need to message them on Instagram and said he sent me their way… it was that typical night out chat where that one lad’s piping up telling you to never give up on your dreams… you know that one who’s always telling you what your next 5 steps need to be and that his cousin’s done work on Stan Collymore’s house and he can get your demos to Louis Walsh… proper smoker’s section moidering like. Nice bloke though, and I mean no disrespect, but my blood pressure was through the roof, my heart was going like the clappers, and I’ve got this bloke telling me to message the fella that went on Love Island 6 years ago.

Anyway we get to Guildford hospital, and let me tell you something… I HATE HOSPITALS. They are SO BORING.

I get a few tests & scans etc done you know the usual meat & potatoes kind of stuff… we was there until about 3:30am, and eventually got released to go back to Leah’s after. I just hit the sack big time, thank the lord for uber btw, I was in and out of sleep for all of Monday then.

But the hospital didn’t really give me an answer other than to get more tests from the GP, but it sucks to be me cause I couldn’t get registered to a GP down here… the amount of hoops you have to jump through is ridiculous, I had to show TWO forms of ID (passport and driving license / birth certificate) and proof of address, along with 4-5 sheets of paper to fill out, THE SYSTEM IS FLAWED. Anyway, I eventually got registered to a GP down here and now it’s the waiting game you know?

I rested for the entire week then and didn’t leave my bed until Friday pretty much. Other than to walk to the shop (big up Bordon stores) and the one time I went to the park near my house once to sit on a bench (it was very Forest Gump) (except I was alone and didn’t run anywhere) I did nothing… and I loved it. I read a book called “Stoner” and despite the title it is not about mara-J-wanna consumption, it is actually a very good book that comes with very high recommendation (from me) x

I also did a bit of song writing… I’ve fallen victim to “writers block” recently. This is a big scary topic that every creative person hates… it’s a bit like the mum from tom & jerry… you hardly ever see her but every so often she’ll come out of nowhere and whack you with a broomstick (a lot of tom & jerry references this week maybe I’m nostalgic) and if I ever did a podcast I would go into a lot of detail about this. It’s something I struggle with A LOT. Some people debate if it does even exist? Like is it even a thing? Of course it is, but the answer is you’ve just gotta work through it – it’s like a metaphor for life there you know? If ever you’re having a bit of a moment and you’re feeling a bit overwhelmed, doubting yourself, take a step back and go again… the solution is always simpler than the problem.

Writers block is just a lack of inspiration and lack of creativity, but you make it worse for yourself, well I do anyway, because I tell myself that everything I‘ve been doing is terrible and I HATE IT. But you’ve gotta change your approach… go back to basics you know? Sometimes it’s all it takes… KEEP IT SIMPLE STUPID (a lesson learnt from my old man). Last week I wrote 4-5 songs that were all like little acoustic guitar sad boy Bon iver meets the shitter male equivalent of Phoebe Bridgers type songs, you know? And they don’t ever have to be heard by anyone else in the world but at least you’re writing something. I think I’ve been trying too hard to be a punk…

Anyway, that’s all for this episode, bit of drama this week but who doesn’t love a bit of drama? It’ll keep you on your toes. I still get the odd moment where I feel a bit non-compos-mentis if you know what I mean? But life goes on. See you in two weeks hopefully I survive x (and you do too)