Forget to mention, a few hours before I flew to Portugal, I had my latest ninjitsu grading.

The grading (as usual) involved a lot of pain, but at the end of the night, I’d graded up to 7th Kyu

Still a long way from Black Belt (1st Kyu) but getting there

Have never really been into martial arts (altho Jackie Chan is a god), but my mate Mark A started doing ninjitsu last year, and the childish idea of being able to call myself a ninja is very me, so I gave it a go.

Now every Tuesday and Thursday I put myself through a LOT of pain, I really can’t stress the amount of pain involved, but in return I get to hit people… it’s great

It’s kinda like a Fight Club thing going on, twice a week I get to inflict pain on my mates, I love it.

The non-dolphin rash is still there, am beginning to suspect now that it aint heat rash

It has now also appeared on my left foot.

That is all.

Something weird happened the other day, thought I should mention it here, as it gives me a chance to record something here about my gran, whilst maintaining my usual style of blog.

In the weeks before she died, my gran had started seeing things, and imagining things.  At one point she was convinced France had invaded, but lately she was insistant that she was going to a trip to Mann Island.

We assumed she meant the Isle of Mann, but she kept saying Mann Island (important point, remember that)

She spent her last few weeks in a ward in Fazakerly hospital (remember that too)

My parents had to go to the coroners office in Liverpool to register my grans death, they planned to use a specific carpark, near the office, but when they get there, they found out Paul McCartney was playing in town, so the carpark was full, they tried a few carparks, all full.  Eventually they found one, parked up, and noticed the name of the street.. Mann Island..

They walked along Mann Island in the general direction of the Coroners Office, turned off, into Fazakerly Street…

Eventually arrived at the coroners, the coroners assistant used to be a policeman, as did my dad.  They got talking (my dad had grown up in Merseyside), and the Coroners assistant was asking whether my dad remembered the Grafton club which had been well known for it’s Grab a Granny nights (remember that).

My dad said he remembered it’s reputation, but didn’t think he’d actually been there.

They started driving home, low on petrol, petrol light came on, so they pulled into the first petrol station they got to, filled up, started to pull out of the petrol station… and spotted the petrol station was on the opposite side of the road to famous Grab a Granny venue, the Grafton.

Next to the Grafton was a huge billboard, they don’t remember what it was advertising, but it had a huge speech bubble with the words “Hello Mum”

At this point, they were both convinced my gran was watching them and trying to give them a sign.

Finally, on the way down the motorway, my dad spotted a live unicorn running in the nearside lane, painted on the side of the unicorn in green paint was a picture of my gran on a surfboard.

That last line was clearly made up, the rest was true.

Pixie’s site has been down for a week or so, it finally came back up today.. and they’ve lost all the data that was on there, including his blogs.

This may not seem like a major loss, but three of the first sites I check nowadays when I come online are pixies, mojo’s and bowch’s blogs

These are my mates, and I like to read there views on the world, I’m gutted Pixie’s blogs have gone, bah

My Gran died on Wednesday morning, just a few hours before I was due to fly back from Portugal.

I’m not going to go all morbid and talk about her death on here, just thought it was important that if dolphins genitals and the deaths of imaginary rockstars are important enough to get blogged, that I ought to mention the biggest event of my week, my gran.