This is where I blog

A somewhat random collection of things that have popped into my head. Take nothing too seriously, and nothing too flippantly - like life really. My shorter ramblings are on Twitter at @oxguin.

So, my dear reader, I've had a few highs and lows over the last month. They've made me reflect a bit

I'm a single chap living in Oxford. I don't have an intimate partner, and am not especially close to most of my family. So I really do value and need my friends. I hope they value and need me too.

I also spend about equal times on Twitter as in real life (IRL).

Love Honey
My regular reader will know I'm both a man of the world, though actually quite bashful. So imagine how I got on when I was asked to explain what Love Honey was to a young person. Here's how I did it ...

See, when a lady* is stepping out with a gentleman** they sometimes have to spend time apart. At these times, they often miss each other. Deeply. Rather than being sad and crying a lot, they sometimes buy little toy friends from Lovehoney to keep them company. These toys are just like yours. Some need batteries, some don't. Some might be just like dressing up as a lady* or another animal***.

My regular reader will know that most of my posts are somewhat jokey in nature. I thought I'd have a go at something a bit more personal - my dances with depression and anxiety.

I'd known I wasn't generally happy in life for a long time. I could see everybody else having fun and getting on with their lives. I knew that wasn't me - I didn't deserve it. I didn't have a problem, I just wasn't worthy of the happiness and contentment that everybody was having. This was how I lived for about 20 years of my adult life.

With apologies to all present ... I've often wondered whether the tweeps I interact with are real people or some cunning Turing Test type bots. There was only one way to find out. So, dear reader, I went to my first ever tweet up. This is my story of it, other people's may differ!

Dramatis personæ

Pie & mash
As a middle aged man, I find the world is different from when I were a lad. Sometimes for the worse - I still miss the Corona Man. Sometimes for the better - I can now publish this blog and billions of people can read it. Obviously I'll be lucky if only one does, and that includes me.

However, I accept that changes happens. And that change should be embraced whenever possible. But, in Ukip style (yikes!), there is one change with which I will not put up. Gastro pubs can fuck right off. Before I start on gastro pubs, let me tell you what a proper pub menu should be like.

We all change throughout our lives. There's a lot of pressure to conform to social norms. But, for me, sometimes these social norms do not allow me to express who I am. I'm going to use this post you share with you, my one & only reader, my deep dark secret. I'm going to come out and to be who I really am.

Well, gosh. This is hard to write. I fear it will cost me a lot of friends. My family may well even ostricize me.

I don't even know where to start. Deep breath. I'll start where my therapist does, my childhood. When I was a kid, every one of my mates had sweetie day on Wednesday. Their mums gave then 10p to buy sweets - and these were the days when you could buy a lot of sweets for 10p. But not my mum. She was cruel and taught my brother and me that a stick of celery was a treat.

I've been outed as a vegan. I am. But also very anti-vegan. Let me explain ...

In theory, it should be easy to define veganism - a person that uses no animal products in their life. But, like most things in life, it's not that simple. Vegans cover a spectrum: uber-light to uber-strict. So let's start with a taxonomy of vegans ...

I'm often asked where the moniker oxguin came from. Well, I was asked once. It's hard to explain. Actually, it's not - it's an alamagation of Oxford (where I live) and penguin (what I love. No - not in that way. Just stop and think about what you've done, and how wrong it is). So, a post about Oxford.

I love living in Oxford. To be more accurate, I love living in East Oxford, just off the Cowley Road. Despite my own prejudices, it's nowhere near as poncey as I though it would be. There are real & lovely people here - many of them aren't even white privileged men. And I'm a stone's throw away from inspirational architecture, and many beautiful parks and open spaces. So, I hear you cry, what's not to like. Well, let me tell you ...

So I just had a week off work, which has allowed me time to ponder the deeper mysteries of life. The mystery that has taken up most of my time is this - if you only had one piece of cutlery, which one would you choose?

Before I start, I want to make it perfectly clear that this is my philosophical journey into the the ultimate meaning of objects in our lives - and beyond our lives into meaningfulness of the multiverse as we image that it exists. In no way represents that I'm a lazy fucker who seeks to minimise washing up wherever possible.

Part two of my rant about emails. It's taken a long time to write as I've been spending a lot of time having to plough through poorly constructed emails.

The follow up to loving email. There will probably be part three at some point.


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