Tuesday 31st November 2010 - @peacockpete

Today is the 31st of November - last day of Movember. I plan to regain control of my face as we enter... Decembeard. I wish I could take credit for that title.

I'm really proud of mine, and my fellow team mate Elly's, fund raising attempts. For prostate and testicular cancer research and awareness, we have raised a total of £143. No mean feat, and we'd like to say thank you very much to everyone who donated, it does make a big, big difference.

I've noticed there's been lots of people taking part in Movember this year, which is a relief. Whether you grew a full on Zapata, or had scrubbly tufts, you did a great job. I for one am happy, as I had less people asking me why I had a moustache. Well, not so much ask, as demand why I would carry one on my face. It's almost as though it was the most offensive thing in the world.

But people can be daft.

No, this year there were 'taches of every size, shape and colour. Magnificent! Everyone doing their bit to make a difference. But, hey, it's just facial hair. It could look worse – I'm quite lucky with mine. The trickiest thing is asking for money.

I felt a bit funny, sheepishly doing the online alternative to waving a chinking bucket under people's noses. I know it's for a good cause, but I felt a bit funny even asking celebs to retweet my appeals. No killer instinct for cash getting, you see. And it's done for another year. Well done to all who took part, and again, thank you to all who parted with cash for this excellent cause.

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Pete Shorney

@peacockpete

peacockpete.wordpress.com

Tuesday 23rd November 2010 - @originalsteve

So, to be honest, today started out as a bit of a #Tuesdayfail. I woke up mid dream, it was cold and I was having a bad morning in the office. You know those days when you get in and realise the little mistakes you have made. Today it just seemed like I was going to struggle. We all get it once in a while, and today just seemed to be one of those. All I started thinking was … “Roll on 6pm”.

So, I sat there, staring at my e-mails and working out what to do next on my big to-do list and I got a text from my little sister. Even thought she lives in London, we don’t really have a chance to meet up. It’s one of those things that happens when you live in such a big city. It takes the same time for me to get to the north west London as it does for me to get to Brighton by train from London Bridge.

Anyway, she texted me to see if I was free for ‘cheap dinner’ or ‘cheap drinks’. This was the little thing I needed to brighten up my day. So after work, we headed down to the strand for Mexican food and a Christmas coffee.

I love my little sister a lot, some times we don’t speak for weeks or months. But when we see each other again, it’s like we only saw each other yesterday. There is lots of catching up, random conversation and lots of laughter! You know those annoying people in resteraunts who always seem to be giggling, well that is me and my sister.

So for me, I am dedicating this Tuesday to my beautiful little sister. For cheering me up on what could have been a bad Tuesday.

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Steve Whiting

@originalsteve

Tuesday 23rd November 2010 - @maleo

Thanks for waking me so early this morning with your darkness, your early sound of a holiday half-celebrated, and your broken promise of snowflakes. When you cruelly tricked me into leaving the warmth of the flat, you never told me that the shapely clouds and nip in the air simply meant I'd be shivering into my steaming coffee.

You know, since you started gracing my calendar with your abhorrent 9am lectures and your life-wasting 5-hour gaps (6 today, Tuesday, 6. You forgot to mention that cancellation, didn't you? Thanks.), we've grown apart. I've become less tolerant of you. It's a real shame, because you've changed. Last year, you were the one we awaited; Monday is a party-goer, with his Union parties and almost expected trips to Live Lounge for a final dance, a few more beers, and a hope of an indiscretion, but you were who we all woke up with for pizza and classic British comedy. We loved your blankets on the floor, your bizarre games (photos of which ended up all over the Internet), your movie nights (which saved us an absolute fortune - I even made pizza from scratch a few times to thank you for being great), and in return you loved us back, keeping yourself free for these waxen shenanigans.

What happened between us, old friend? I'll tell you: you became more serious. You started littering open text books around the flat and turning the TV off, reneging on your ordering of delivery foodstuffs and instead choosing to trip-trap off to the library. The fun left, Tuesday. Now I'm resigned to black coffee, soul-eating gaps, and an empty chair where you once would have sat and kept me laughing until Wednesday's gentle hand took mine.

If I'm honest, I suppose your change is mostly due to mine. I started to realise how much effort my degree may require; my work patterns became erratic; I lacked available money in a way I'd never done before: we simply saw less of one another. Saturday has somehow become your avatar, and we spend the time that I miss with you, Tues. Don't get me wrong, I love Saturday, as he's a cool guy, but... Well, he's a bit of a tourist. He comes and goes, always changing his plans, bringing new and brief 'mates' with him all the time. Not like we had, Tuesday, with our planned day and solid group of good friends. We're all still best friends, but it's not quite the same without you; the 'golden age' has passed, somewhat. Even the reverent hashtags we littered around Twitter for you have fallen by the wayside: #hangovertuesday has passed; #fruittuesday has gone off.

Change is a good thing, as it refreshes the mind, but I do miss how we were, Tuesday. We'll keep in touch, I'm sure, and we'll have to relive the past soon. You know, for old time's sake. Until then, I'll leave your chair empty.

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Dave Kelly

@maleo

Tuesday 16th November 2010 - @darrengoldsmith

For this post (below), rather than a personal memory thrust against the concept of Tuesday, I wanted to depict an experience… something momentous that had occurred on that day of the week. Something which affects us all.
Of course there are thousands of such events in history and I could have picked any one of them. But then I thought it would be much better to see the event from a future perspective. In this case, through the eyes of an engineer… working on another planet.

This is my favourite spot. A rocky hill just outside of Magnus Sound. I come here once a week to sit and watch the mass driver sling slabs of ice, a hundred metric tons each, up and over Clarke plain and into a low orbit. You can’t hear anything; the atmosphere is too thin for that. You can feel it though, a tremor rising through your boots, as each payload accelerates past. And sometimes my suit’s proximity alarm might light up.

The track stretches west to east, about a kilometre from the pole base. You can just about see the huge linear motor and bucket sheds, glowing pinkly in the weak sun. They found the ice back in 2008. Good old water-ice, not that CO2 crap on the surface. Nope, this mother lode was buried, about three kilometres down. Took a lot of effort to mine it… but needs must. They always must.

Ice looks different here. It sparkles like a precious gem. Pin sharp. A billion fractal facets. Darker veins run through it, a spidery network of blood vessels. Particles of rust-coloured soil captured and frozen for aeons. It’s life-giving too, obviously. Once in orbit, the slabs are picked up by TESA’s hard-working boys and girls and given another push. A big one. All the way home.

My wife called me after the initial phase. Her beautiful voice echoing across that cavern of space between us. She’d told me they all waited. The fifteen billion upturned faces of Earth, watching the skies for their first delivery of much-needed water. A thousand glittering points of light. A ring of new satellites. They named it Diamond Tuesday.

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Darren Goldsmith

@darrengoldsmith

Tuesday 16th November - @peacockpete

I got to thinking about where I am right now. Well, not right now, but as you ask, I'm nabbing a bit of time in the office between tasks.

This thought process kicked off because of a conversation with my boss, and how we've known people that have never been outside of their hometown or village. I don't mean moved away, but have never actually left the confines of their own surroundings. How? I mean... how?

What stops a person from wishing to venture past the their immediate boundary? Is it a mental health issue? Is it lack of confidence or a general fear? I remember talking to someone years ago that only went to London once a year to take his mother to the theatre. That was the only trip out of the town of Newbury. Newbury, tiny Marketplace-and-Northbrook Street-mainly Newbury.

Why does this horrify me so much? I mean, I've always lived and worked around this town in one way or another, but if someone told me that I couldn't venture further afield I would instantly feel trapped. I'm not a man that has travelled as far and wide as some, I admit, but the idea of only knowing one place is frightening.

I currently live two lives; my parochial existence in Newbury is essential as I work here, but I also have my family and dearest, oldest friends here. My other life is in London, with my boyfriend and adventures and new friends that are becoming very important to me. These lives merge and crossover, and I'm glad of this, really glad. And it's just a train trip away.

I'm not sure it's possible to adequately express how grateful I am for my liberty and my life. If I had never taken a step outside I would have a life half lived.

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Pete Shorney

@peacockpete

peacockpete.wordpress.com

Tuesday 9th November 2010 - @originalsteve

So, today, Tuesday was all about me!

Not in a selfish way mind....

I decided to take this week off work, I haven’t had (or could afford) a holiday this year, so I decided to take the week off to do things that I wanted to do. You know that list of ‘Things to do’ that you look at occasionally and think.. “I really should get round to this”.

I had read this article on Lifehacker (great blog) about the concept of a ‘Think Week’ http://lifehacker.com/5670380/the-power-of-time-off. A week to get away from it all, no contact with the office/family/friends. It’s a chance for you to catch up, reflect and let your mind wander. Thinking is always better when your brain has enough time to digest information and make it palatable....a skill that we have forgotten with all this information flying around. Anyway, this is what my brain needed...without the expense of going to a far off land or not being in contact with my friends/family.

After what had been an amazing and wonderful weekend with Pete, today was my time to stop, think and reflect. I could do what ever I wanted...I could stay in bed all day. Curl up on the sofa and watch the whole of Grey’s Anatomy season 4. The world (London and Greenwich) was my oyster!

But, you know, I had things to do....

I got up and headed to the shops to fill the rather empty fridge. I did end up buying a lot of chocolate, biscuits and other sweet delights, but I thought... “I’m on holiday”. As it was pissing down with rain I did consider staying on the sofa, but my feet got itchy. So I headed out to the cinema to watch “”The Social Network” on my own (something I’ve never done before) before heading to the pub (with my laptop in hand, as I’m cool like that) for a pint.  After the wifi failed and my glass was empty. It was time to endure the weather and head home....to the sofa....to watch Pretty Women (A film I have never seen...was rather good actually).

All in all I had a great day on my own, it was nice to take a breath and not think about work all the time. I hope the rest of the week is like this? Fingers Crossed....

Steve Whiting

@originalsteve

LDNAdventure.posterous.com

 

Tuesday 9th November 2010 - @simplylorna

*Yawn. Stretch. Click* Hello Saturday!! Wait, hang on, it's Tuesday you say? Bollocks. Why have I got a hangover on a Tuesday? This can't be right. Also appear to be in a hotel room. Two empty bottles of wine, 1 of champagne, 4 beer bottles.... Ahhhh, that'll be the hangover then...

Tell me Tuesday, as we've started with a deviation from the norm, how about making it all a bit different today? Let's start with the bloke thing. Would like to wake up with one for a start. Ideally someone who likes me (although getting less fussed about this) & with a pulse. Not married, no emotional fuck ups, just a normal bloke. Cheers. And, as we're having this chat, Tuesday, I'd like a well paid job please. I have responsibilities, children, mortgage, drink problem, so money is required before the credit cards are taken.
Go on, give me a break, I've been relatively good this year, you know adopting new kids, raising bundles of cash for charity, normal stuff that everyone does I'd imagine? And finally Tuesday, just for today, can I have that perfect pair of breasts? Please? Not that I don't love my 1.75 boobs with the wonky nipple and chicken fillet "feature", but a nice gropable pair for 24 hours would be good.

Turns out Tuesday didn't listen. Had to deal with the same shit. Kids moaned, credit cards were bulging, loneliness continued & my quest for the perfect job goes on. As for perfect breasts? Well, who needs them. I'm never going to be on page 3 and mine are actually not bad - right bra, bit of fiddling & voila, hello boys! Tuesday. Same shit, different day but luckily, same old me. Now, where did I put my wine glass........?

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Lorna Jones

@simplylorna

lojajo.wordpress.com

Tuesday 9th November 2010 - @KangaKat

After today, I have realised that I no longer need to fear the phrase “heart attack”.

Twenty three years ago when my Mum died of a heart attack at the age of 39. There were several contributing factors; a family history - her Grandfather died at the age of 42 - and she'd been suffering with high blood pressure since I had been born prematurely 6 years earlier. In addition, 10 days earlier, our doctor had stopped the tablets she'd been taking to control her blood pressure since my birth. Rather than lower the dose and gradually wean her off them, he stopped them outright, it was too much for her heart and it gave out. There's also the additional factor that it took far too long for the ambulance to arrive, there was no way they were going to revive her by the time they got there.

When 10 years ago my Dad had 3 heart attacks in 3 days, he ended up being hospitalized for a month while he waited for a bed a Harefield Hospital to undergo an Angioplasty procedure. I was relieved that he'd survived but equally annoyed that we had to wait so long. In itself an angioplasty isn't a difficult or invasive procedure and Dad only spent a total of 24 hours in Harefield but the four week wait between him being admitted and finally receiving treatment was agonizing.

So, fast forward 10 years to Monday November 1st 2010, I'm walking into work and I receive a phone call from my Dad telling me that his younger brother has just been rushed into hospital with a suspected heart attack. As you can probably imagine, I went into meltdown, fearing the worst. But today I heard how my uncle was rushed straight to the nearest heart hospital and the ambulance was met by the surgeon and two porters. My Uncle had his angioplasty straight away and today I saw him at home, surrounded by his loving family, playing with his 20 month old grandson. It made me realise that I needn't fear those two words any longer and that it doesn't have to mean a death sentence. Sure, I'm always going to have to keep any eye on my health, but no longer am I crippled with fear by two little words.

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Kat Easthope

@Kangakat

Tuesday 2nd November 2010 - @SandyEastStar

So Tuesday, it’s the morning after and as you can see I’m shattered, squinty-eyed but still smiling. As you know Monday was mad: I regressed back to being 14 years old when a Radio One DJ dedicated a song to me - dancing around to Bon Jovi at full blast in a peaceful little health shop is not cool apparently; I got mentioned on an acoustic comedy band’s latest podcast for telling them about a ‘pumpkin pulping foot loss’ incident-yes, I still feel proud now; and in the evening I turned comedy-groupy and watched the fantastically funny McNeil and Pamphilon AGAIN just because they had made me laugh so much the first time I saw them in Edinburgh - I defy anyone not to love ‘Cheeky, Sneaky Jesus’ and their Wordia definition for ‘Grown-Up’... All in all, Tuesday, you have to agree Monday was pretty damn good and what made it even better is the part a bitchy, bitter but ultimately brilliant friend played in making Monday great.

And so today, Tuesday, as a result, you’re dedicated to Dean. 

Dean is evil (‘I wish some people would just die, y’know?’), extremely expressive (he will have referred to me as being the certain part of a lady’s area at least 6 or 7 times from just reading this so far), and in many ways my equal in our humour and our love for all things comical (his mum and dad did suggest I was the female version of him but I don’t think I’m as damaged as him...yet). 

However, more than anything, Dean is an EXCEPTIONAL friend.

During a year of disaster, Dean has been there for me with his straight-talking, unbelievable generosity and his constant consideration. Whilst I talk a good talk he actually acts on it. When we went to Edinburgh (I’m not the only comedy-groupy!) he arranged everything. Whenever we meet I’m always late and although he hates poor punctuality he never complains. He’s also managed to stay pretty cool and collected about the fact that a project we’ve been working on is lost somewhere on my lap-top which I accidentally destroyed recently... I WILL find it eventually.

I keep trying to pay Dean back for everything he’s done and I was meant to sort everything out for our jaunt to The Pleasance on Monday evening but of course I didn’t even manage that, and once again Dean stepped in quietly and took over... And that’s what Dean does. He deals with things discretely and determinedly but only really lets the masses see his crude, cruel and comical side. However it’s all of these qualities that make Dean really special and, without a doubt fully deserving of having a day dedicated to him and therefore he is Tuesday’s Hero.

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Sandy East

@SandyEastStar

Tuesday 2nd November 2010 - @originalsteve

It's weird isn't it? When you look at yourself and you don't recognise what you see. No, I haven't had surgery or a Sharon Osborne face lift....I've done something more drastic... I shaved off my beard.

For the first time in about a year I'm clean shaven. Now, I didn't do it today, I've had it since Saturday to get used to it...but still, looking in the mirror this morning I'm still struggling to recognise myself.

For me, my beard has been one of my 'features' and now that it's gone...the first thing you see is my very high hair. (I do need to get it cut)

Anyway, I didn't just do this to see what my face is like, I've done it for charity. Eventually (it's going to take a while) this clean shaven face will have a Mo (moustache) in aid of Movember, to raise awareness and money for testicular cancer.

Did you know:

• One man dies every hour of prostate cancer in the UK
• Prostate cancer is the most common cancer in men
• In the UK,35,000 men are diagnosed every year

So even though I'm really missing my beard this morning, I know that I'm bit doing for the world.

If you would like to donate...please donate here.

http://uk.movember.com/mospace/761708/

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Steve Whiting

@originalsteve