7 Reasons

Tag: seven

  • 7 Reasons Marc Fearns Should Be Celebrated

    7 Reasons Marc Fearns Should Be Celebrated

    Keeping with the fine tradition of 7 Reasons founders celebrating their birthdays in June, today it is Marc’s turn. Now, I wouldn’t be the great man that I am if I didn’t dedicate this post to my fellow reasoner. So Marc, this is for you. And actually everyone else. Because you need to celebrate the great man. This is why.

    1.  June 18th. It might be a day in June, but apart from that, there is very little going for it. Sure, Delia Smith was born on this day, but so was Jason McAteer.* It’s about time we made this day special. A celebration of Marc Fearns is the way to go. And, if we celebrate June 18th, the day will probably go quicker.

    2.  Mystery. There is certainly an air of mystery about Marc Fearns. No one is quite sure how tall he is. No one is quite sure how old he is. No one is quite sure why he named his cat Horatio Pyewackett Caractacus Fearns. No one is quite sure how his brain works. But that’s good. It makes him intriguing. The last thing we want is to celebrate someone who is 5’8, 30 years-old, has a cat called Tibbles and whose brain works like clockwork. That’s been done.

    3.  Intrepid Experimentalist. You can say what you like about Richard Bacon – and many people do – what you can’t accuse him of though, is having a bad taste in experimentalists. There is little doubt that when it comes to cats, foil and the ability to walk, Marc Fearns is on the tip of Richard Bacon’s tongue. All because of this.

    4.  Rumour-Mill. What with spending most of your days making your cat walk over tin foil, it leaves a lot of time to muck around. Generally at the expense of others. Including me. The whole thing about me fancying myself? Marc started that. (No, seriously, he did). You may think me recommending you celebrate Marc – because he makes me look narcissistic – is an odd thing to do? Well, it’s not. In fact it’s quite logical. Sometimes, you are told something so much, that eventually you begin to believe it. Marc is the reason I am who I am. He could do the same for you.

    5.  Emotional Blackmail. How could you not feel sorry celebrate someone who looks like this?

    6.  Library Builder. Getting the builders in, is one of those things that fills people with dread. If it’s not how much mud they are going to traipse across the carpet, it’s how many tea-bags are they going to get through. Which is where Marc comes in. He can build a library in 90 seconds. And he doesn’t drink tea. If you want him to come and build a library for you, send him an email: [email protected]

    7.  7 Reasons. The 7 Reasons concept wouldn’t exist without Marc Fearns. I know there are two of us who supposedly founded it, but I have been pressing for it to become 1 Reason for a long time now. Marc is the one who keeps it ticking over. Who keeps driving it forward. So if you like the concept, then it is he who you should celebrate. If you would prefer to read 1 Reason on a daily basis, celebrate me again. Just like you did last week. You remember, that day you really enjoyed.

    *I have just discovered today is also the birthday of Fabio Capello and Sir Paul McCartney. It’s okay though. We can celebrate them all. Especially if England win.

  • 7 Reasons It’s Awkward Travelling On The Train (With A Strange Man)

    7 Reasons It’s Awkward Travelling On The Train (With A Strange Man)

    Strangers On A Train

    1. It’s Monday morning and I am on the train to London. It’s after 9.00am so the train is fairly empty. I have a a block of six seats to myself. We pull into Maidstone East. A man gets on. He could sit anywhere. But he doesn’t. He sits opposite me, one seat across. Why? Why did he do this? But worse is to follow. He says, ‘Good Morning’. I feel awkward. I know shouldn’t. I know I should just be able to say ‘Good Morning’ back, but it feels strange. A stranger saying good morning to me on a train. I mumble a ‘Hi’ back, feel a bit embarrassed and go back to my book.

    2. It’s no more than five minutes later. I am reading, but I can sense the man is looking at me. I feel awkward. I raise my head. Sure enough he is looking at me. He sees my attention on the book has lapsed and takes his chance. ‘Good book?’ he says. ‘So far, it’s very interesting,’ I reply. We spend the next five minutes talking about Harold Larwood. (I am reading his biography). I say we talk about Harold Larwood. He does most of the talking. I pretend to look interested.

    3. There is a lull in what was never a flowing conversation. I feel awkward. Is now the time I go back to my book? Or is that deemed rude? Am I now supposed to talk to this man all the way to London Victoria? The man looks towards the window. I see this as the opportunity I have been waiting for. I turn back to my book. And I vow not to look up again.

    4. We arrive at London Victoria forty minutes later. We haven’t spoken in that time. I stand up and grab my bag from the rack. The man is still sitting there. What is he waiting for? I feel awkward. What do I do? Am I required to say goodbye? I think about it. In fact I am sure I am about to say it. But I don’t. I just look at him. And half-smile. And half-nod. And half-walk off the train. The other half ran.

    5. I’m waiting on the platform for a Wimbledon bound District Line train. Suddenly, from behind a bloke who is no doubt sponsored by Pukka Pies, appears someone I recognise. It’s the man again. And he’s seen me. I feel awkward. Now what do I do? I didn’t say goodbye. Surely that means I don’t say hello. But we can’t just stand next to each other and pretend we are just two people who have never seen each other before. That would be awkward. He’s getting closer. But here comes the train! I feel less awkward. I get on the train. I sit down. The man sits opposite me. I feel awkward.

    6. My stop is next. Parsons Green. Surely this man isn’t going to get off here. We have spent twenty minutes not talking to each other. But I haven’t been reading. I have mainly been looking out of the window. But the window is behind the man. So occasionally I’ve caught his eye-line. And I’ve felt awkward. What should I have done? Is he thinking the same as me? Or have I hurt his feelings? Have I made him think he’s boring? Parsons Green arrives. The doors open. I stand up, turn left and alight. I walk down the platform. I dare not look back. I know, I just know, that if I do, he’ll be there. I walk home and never look back.

    7. I’m in the kitchen. I’ve just flicked the kettle on. I decide there is probably a 7 Reasons post in this. Something about feeling awkward on the train. I get my notepad out and start scribbling down what happened. I get six reasons done and re-read them. As I read it, I feel awkward. I feel awkward about feeling awkward. I also feel very silly.

  • 7 Reasons You Shouldn’t Write 7 Reasons While Watching The Football

    7 Reasons You Shouldn’t Write 7 Reasons While Watching The Football

    7 Reasons You Shouldn't Write 7 Reasons While Watching The Football

    It seemed like a good idea at the time. Ghana v Serbia, one of those games that I’m not desperate to see, but because it’s the World Cup I feel I should. So I did in the knowledge that it would also give me 90 minutes (plus half time) to write 7 Reasons. Easy.

    1.  The Girlfriend (Part A). She knows I’m watching the football whilst trying to write 7 Reasons. She asks me what the topic is. I say, ‘Darling, it’s 7 Reasons you shouldn’t write 7 reasons while watching the football’. She muses for a second, then replies, ‘Multitasking. Men can’t multitask’. I look around. She’s on the kitchen floor, watching the football, talking to me and cleaning a barbecue grill with a toothbrush. I feel admiration for my girlfriend. She can multitask with the best of them. But now I feel challenged. I must finish my 7 Reasons piece before Ghana finish Serbia. I don’t like the pressure.

    2.  Spelling. I spend more time concentrating on the football than on the page in front of me. This is dangerous, as when I don’t concentrate I have a habit of miss-spelling ‘tootbrush’, writing the incorrect version of ‘peace’ and adding multiple erroneous apostrophes. I also spell ‘eronous’ incorrectly.

    3.  Clive Tyldesley. Nothing is really happening in the game. Ghana have a throw-in just inside their own half. If I am ever going to get a chance to write something while watching the football, this is it. I look down. But as soon as I do Clive gets excited. I can only assume this is coincidence. I look up. Nothing is happening. Serbia have a goal-kick. I look down. Clive gets excited. I look up. Nothing is happening. I look down. Clive gets excited. I look up. Nothing is happening. I look down. I feel my neck. It’s beginning to hurt.

    4.  Immaturity. I see a player called ‘Panstil’. This amuses me. I spend ten minutes desperately trying to think of a joke that involves the word pants. I finally think of one. All I need is for Panstil to make a sliding tackle and lose his shorts. If he does I can say, ‘Lucky he’s still got his panstil’. I then realise this isn’t very funny. I note I still have a lot of growing up to do.

    5.  The Girlfriend (Part B). We are into the second half-time. The score-line reads Reasons Done 3 – Reasons Still To Go 4. My girlfriend – now attacking the grill with a brillo pad – asks what I’ve got so far. I read them to her. I wait for the laughter. It comes. Eventually. But then, so does, ‘You have a very strange brain’. I would have preferred her to compliment my shorts. I am wearing nice shorts. Clive gets excited. I look up.

    6.  Other Sport. Watching the football means I am missing all the other sport that’s on. I still am not sure which position Jenson Button is on the grid  – and the F1 coverage has started on the other side. Nor, by watching the football, am I keeping up to date with the domestic cricket scene. I stop writing reasons for a minute. I also stop watching the football. I check cricket scores on my iPhone. I look around. My girlfriend is looking at me. I realise I am not doing much in the way of multitasking. Clive gets excited. I turn back to the screen. Nothing is happening. I have fifteen minutes to think of a final reason.

    7.  The Girlfriend (Part C). I am struggling to think of a seventh. My girlfriend asks me how I am getting on. I say, ‘Darling, I am struggling to think of a seventh’. She replies, ‘Well if you manage to think of a seventh I know that you can multitask. So next time the football is on you can peel some potatoes too.’ I am conflicted. She has just given me the seventh reason I shouldn’t have written this while the football was on. I have done it. I have proved men can multitask. But I have also proved why men shouldn’t multitask. Clive gets excited. It’s full-time. Ghana have won. And so has The Girlfriend.

  • Guest Post: 7 Reasons To Watch Eastenders

    Guest Post: 7 Reasons To Watch Eastenders

    A few weeks back, Claire Quinn talked to us about freckles. And why they rocked. So convinced were Marc and I by her reasons, that we popped outside to catch some rays. We’ve just come back in to find Claire back on the sofa. She’s watching Eastenders. So while she tells you why it’s great, Marc and I are going back outside.

    7 Reasons To Watch Eastenders

    1.  Happiness. Ok I hear you… “Eastenders” and “happy” aren’t really words you ever hear in the same sentence. The deaths, marriage break-ups, screaming public arguements in The Queen Vic and the miserable bloody face of Billy Mitchell might have something to do with this. But on reflection, your life feels a whole lot better!

    2.  Fashion. Pat Butcher’s famous horrendously oversized earrings, Bianca’s silver puffer jacket, actually I can’t go on; the visuals in my head are causing too much pain. What I do realise though, is that I have impeccable dress sense. Thank you Eastenders costume designer person. Who needs Trinny and Susannah?

    3.  Money. Who can name me one family that owns their own washing machine in Albert Square? No? I didn’t think so. Neither can I. However, I do own one. Eastenders has made me feel rich!

    4.  Family. I don’t think it would matter how dysfunctional your family is, watching this soap makes your family feel positively normal.

    5.  Geographical Knowledge. I am an intrepid explorer! Well I am in comparison to the Enders lot… I mean, I know more than one pub to drink in, I have more than two choices of restaurant to dine in and, well, basically my life doesn’t revolve around 100 square feet. Which leads me nicely onto…

    6.  Employment. Not having to restrict myself to 100 square feet around my abode, I realise I have a much greater range of jobs to choose from. Thankfully, I am not restricted to market trader, hospitality worker or mechanic.

    7.  Dirty Laundry. No, I am not repeating myself. I am not talking about washing machines again. I am talking about personal information… Eastenders has taught me that airing your dirty laundry in public is NEVER a good idea. Why would you EVER humiliate yourself like that in front of all and sundry? If I didn’t want everyone to know that I think I am a cat, I wouldn’t start announcing it publicly… oh shit.

  • 7 Reasons You Shouldn’t Use The Washing Machine

    7 Reasons You Shouldn’t Use The Washing Machine

    Dangerous Washing Machine

    1.  Odd socks. Wearing odd socks is not really the done thing. It looks strange and makes people avoid you. The problem is that it’s really not your fault. If the washing machine understood that eating a sock is not part of the deal when you use the machine, then you could walk around like a normal person. That sounds like fun, doesn’t it?

    2.  Communication Destroyer. They are loud and clanky bits of  machinery are washing machines, so much so that you may struggle to hear the wife when she asks, ‘Have you seen the cat?’

    3.  Vision Depletor. It doesn’t take much, just a dodgy washing machine door and too much soap powder. Before you know it, the suds have built up to uncontainable levels, pushed the door open and filled the room with white floaty stuff. As fun as it is to play around in, it won’t be long before you’ve collided with the blender.

    4.  Back Injury Hazard. The majority of duvets are light. In weight I mean, not colour. Though some are light in weight and colour – which is to be applauded I suppose. But when you’ve stopped applauding, let’s get back to my point. Duvets are light. They can be tossed into the machine and one does not need to adhere to correct tossing procedures. However, upon washing machine cycle completion, something has happened. The once light duvet, is now heavy. Not only is it wet, it has also eaten everything else in the machine. To remove said duvet, one should adhere to heavy object lifting protocol. But does one? No one does not. Silliness.

    5.  DIY Fail. I am convinced the traditional washing machine is made out of parts of a space-shuttle. How else can you explain it’s complete disregard for gravity? When I switch my washing machine on, I expect it to stay next to the sink, not head off down the kitchen towards the oven. Nor do I expect it to chip away at the tiling on the way.

    6.  Administration Fail. I have a filing system for receipts. It’s called the back pocket of my jeans. Usually I find these much easier to read when they are dry. Not when they have been reduced to little bits of paper and apparently superglued to every other item of clothing I have just pulled from the machine.

    7.  Not Every Day Is Valentine’s Day. Presenting your girlfriend/wife with pink lingerie may be seen as a romantic gesture one day a year, but it gets a bit repetitive if it happens everytime you use the washing machine. The secret is to make sure there is no red sock in with the whites. Apparently.

  • 7 Reasons That Seven is the Wrong Number

    7 Reasons That Seven is the Wrong Number

    A big, red number 7 (seven)

    1.  Socks.  Our washing machine broke recently.  It was calamitous.  I was down to my last seven socks when the washing-machine-man came and mended it – and seven is certainly the wrong number of socks.  Only two of them matched each other – the pink ones.  The other five were variously; ropey, frumpy, crappy, bobbly and greasy.  Which reminds me.

    2.  Dwarves.  Seven is too few dwarves for a good song: “Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, it’s off to work we go” is the best you can expect from seven dwarves, and that’s rubbish.  No one’s that jolly on their way to work (except dolphin trainers, and that’s not even a real job).  But if you get a greater number of dwarves and paint them orange, they’ll sing “Ooompa-Loompa, doompadee-doo”, which are far superior lyrics that everyone can relate to.  And they’ll make you some chocolate while they sing them.

    3.  Maths.  Seven is a prime number, and it was while I was trying to come up with a mathematical explanation of a prime number that this occurred to me:  We call maths maths.  Americans call maths math.  If we follow the logic of the British way of doing things, then surely mathematical should be mathsematical, mathematics should be mathsematics and a mathematician should be a mathsematician.  But they’re not.  This means that we are wrong and Americans are right – which is very, very, very wrong indeed.   Thinking about the number seven made me realise this.

    4.  Viagra.  When a man takes one Viagra pill, his penis assumes the shape of the number 1 for a considerable time. Therefore, if a man takes seven Viagra pills, his penis must assume the shape of the number 7 for a considerable time. I’m not sure why anyone would want a 7 shaped penis – unless they wanted to make love to someone round a corner – so it’s probably the wrong number of pills to take.  I don’t know how taking 7 Viagra pills would affect a woman*, but I would advise against it; it may tousle the hair…or…something.

    5.  Human pyramid.  Seven is the wrong number of people to construct a human pyramid.  You can make one with six, but then the seventh person is just standing about, feeling left-out and unloved.  Or it will lead to a human rhombus, and no one wants one of those.

    6.  Brides.  Exhaustive research on Wikipedia has yielded the statistic that between 2% and 13% of people are gay.  This means that, in the film Seven Brides For Seven Brothers, seven is the wrong number of brides.  The brothers (0.14 to 0.91 of whom would be gay) would require 6.09 to 6.86 brides and between 0.14 and .91 additional grooms**.  So, logically, the film should be called 6.09 to 6.86 Brides and Between 0.14 and 0.91 Grooms For Seven Brothers.  I’m only about 85% sure that my calculations are correct but I am 100% certain that at least 50% of the 7 Reasons team now has a headache.

    7.  Reasons.  It’s a well known fact that there are only six reasons for anything.  Don’t just take my word for it.  Ask Jonathan Lee, he’s an expert.

    space

    *I’m not a real doctor

    **Nor am I a mathsematician.

  • 7 Reasons To Leave The Party

    7 Reasons To Leave The Party

    1. Your crocodile costume has made several people laugh and has got you a lot of attention, but it turns out that you’re not at a fancy dress party.

    2. It turns out that the man you took an instant dislike to earlier because he was “an unctuous pillock…wandering about like he owns the place” is your host and does, in fact, own the place.

    3. The attractive young lady that you’ve been eyeing up all night and are using your wittiest conversation on turns out to be a lesbian who is making eyes at a girl on the other side of the living room when she thinks that you’re not looking.

    4. The strange and deeply dull man that has been leering at you all evening has trapped you in conversation in the living room (well, an unfunny and slightly bizarre monologue, anyway).  You frantically throw “rescue me” glances to your best friend who is standing alone on the other side of the room, which she ignores.

    5. You are alone on one side of the living room.  Your best friend has abandoned you and is engaged in conversation with a cute guy on the other side of the room.  She keeps glancing over to make sure that you’ve noticed.  Bitch!

    6. With about an hour to go until New Year you receive a phone call from a friend inquiring as to your whereabouts.  You look around at your fellow guests and it slowly dawns on you that you don’t know any of them.

    7.  There is a magician.

    Do you have additional reasons? Share them with us in the comments section, and if you enjoyed this post share it with a friend, or a spouse.