It's November 30th, 1 day before you all crack open your chocolate advent calenders and guess what...
...I've completely finished my Christmas shopping.
I've impressed myself. Normally it's a mad dash about 2 days before Christmas Eve, trying desperately to find something interesting in a dodgy book shop, or even worse, trying to find some excuse not to buy a present at all. Not this year. Everyone I'd normally consider buying something for is covered. Not only that, I've also remembered birthday presents for Jackie and my old flatmate Lee!
Don't ask me why this has happened. Perhaps it's because I got my small Christmas bonus, and after paying off people I owed, I decided to get all my other December debts out of the way too. Perhaps I just didn't want it hanging over me, especially with a trip back to Fraggle Rock coming up.
Whatever the reason, it's all done and I can sit back and watch everyone else panic for a change....
...until I realise I've forgotten someone :)
November 30, 2008
November 25, 2008
Missed it again!
Just like the theatre, I'm late. I meant to celebrate another half century of blog posts, but this is number 151. Oh well, here it is, everything you never needed to know about the number 151.
(This is going to be really tough!)
151 is a palindromic prime number
The gestation period of a goat is 151 days (no, really, it is!)
The Statue of Liberty, from base to top of torch is 151 feet tall (that's about as interesting as this list gets)
There is a brand of Bacardi Rum called Bacardi 151. It's a higher proof and dark. (Ah, I had to find some kind of alcoholic reference)
Psalm 151 is only accepted as being genuine by certain churches.
When Mary Decker fell in the 1984 Olympics, supposedly tripped by British runner Zola Budd (remember her, she always ran in bare feet), she ripped the racing number off Zola's back as she hit the ground. Zola's racing number was 151.
Ok, that's it, I told you it was going to be hard. Serves me right for missing 150 (which I'm sure would have been a damn sight easier to write about.) Oh well, here's to the next 50 entries....
... At current speed, that should be about Easter time.
(This is going to be really tough!)
151 is a palindromic prime number
The gestation period of a goat is 151 days (no, really, it is!)
The Statue of Liberty, from base to top of torch is 151 feet tall (that's about as interesting as this list gets)
There is a brand of Bacardi Rum called Bacardi 151. It's a higher proof and dark. (Ah, I had to find some kind of alcoholic reference)
Psalm 151 is only accepted as being genuine by certain churches.
When Mary Decker fell in the 1984 Olympics, supposedly tripped by British runner Zola Budd (remember her, she always ran in bare feet), she ripped the racing number off Zola's back as she hit the ground. Zola's racing number was 151.
Ok, that's it, I told you it was going to be hard. Serves me right for missing 150 (which I'm sure would have been a damn sight easier to write about.) Oh well, here's to the next 50 entries....
... At current speed, that should be about Easter time.
November 23, 2008
Here we go again.
Last night I got some bad news about a very close friend; almost identical news to that I got at the start of October.
It has nothing to do with me, there is nothing I can do to help or make anything better, but I can't stop it affecting me. You already know it doesn't take much to put me at a low, but when it happens to someone I care about, it sinks me even lower.
Back in October, it turned me back to the drink. It's unlikely that'll happen this time because I don't have the funds, and by the time I do, I hope to have pulled myself out of the mire. If I go quiet for a few days, don't worry, I'll be back to my idiot old self as soon as possible.
Sorry if this all seems selfish. I'm sure it sounds like me looking for sympathy for someone else's grief. It's not, I assure you. You just have to bear in mind this blog is an output for my feelings - good and bad - I can only write about what I am going through. I can't be a window for anyone else's emotions.
It has nothing to do with me, there is nothing I can do to help or make anything better, but I can't stop it affecting me. You already know it doesn't take much to put me at a low, but when it happens to someone I care about, it sinks me even lower.
Back in October, it turned me back to the drink. It's unlikely that'll happen this time because I don't have the funds, and by the time I do, I hope to have pulled myself out of the mire. If I go quiet for a few days, don't worry, I'll be back to my idiot old self as soon as possible.
Sorry if this all seems selfish. I'm sure it sounds like me looking for sympathy for someone else's grief. It's not, I assure you. You just have to bear in mind this blog is an output for my feelings - good and bad - I can only write about what I am going through. I can't be a window for anyone else's emotions.
November 21, 2008
Definition of an Eejit Part VIII
There seems to be no cure for it - I'm still an Eejit.
Back at the start of the year, I purchased a theatre ticket. Nothing strange about that, except that the show wasn't until this month, November. The ticket was for a performance of the musical 'Witches of Eastwick' starring Marti Pellow. You remember him, lead singer of Wet Wet Wet - spent about six and a half years at number one with 'Love is All Around' back in the 90's. Anyway, I bought the ticket so early because advance bookings at that time got a 20% discount.
Last month, As I was setting the work rota for myself and my team, I made sure I gave myself the theatre night off, and an extra day next to it. All going well so far.
So I have Wednesday and Thursday off. Wednesday is set to be a lazy day, get some sleep, do some washing, possibly clean the kitchen. Thursday will be a lie in, possibly a trip into town then theatre in the evening. With me so far?
Well Wednesday almost went as planned. I got some rest, watched a couple of new DVDs, didn't get round to cleaning the kitchen but I did get all my laundry done.
Thursday, I slept in til about 10am. I got up, and before getting dressed I checked what time the theatre doors opened. 7pm for a 7.30pm curtain up. Good timing.....hang on....
....The ticket was for last night, the Wednesday. When I set my rota I had given myself the extra day off after the show, probably telling myself I could have a few drinks post-performance. At some point between setting my off days and yesterday I had convinced myself it was the opposite and my extra day off was before the play. It was now Thursday morning, I have a useless theatre ticket, and despite buying a ticket months in advance I am going to miss 'The Witches of Eastwick'.
This isn't the first time I've missed something at The Mayflower here in Southampton. By my reckoning I have bought tickets to 6 shows, and only attended 3. What an appalling record! In my 11 years in The Isle of Man I must have seen 30 or 40 shows at The Gaiety, and I don't recall missing a single one. The first one I missed here was 'The Wizard of Oz' (because I fell asleep), although I did buy new tickets for that one. The second was 'French and Saunders Live' which I am gutted I missed, but at the time I was very low and didn't want to leave my flat.
I am definately going to buy a ticket for the Monty Python musical 'Spamalot' which is on next year....
....I may need to get people to send me alarm calls on the day!
Back at the start of the year, I purchased a theatre ticket. Nothing strange about that, except that the show wasn't until this month, November. The ticket was for a performance of the musical 'Witches of Eastwick' starring Marti Pellow. You remember him, lead singer of Wet Wet Wet - spent about six and a half years at number one with 'Love is All Around' back in the 90's. Anyway, I bought the ticket so early because advance bookings at that time got a 20% discount.
Last month, As I was setting the work rota for myself and my team, I made sure I gave myself the theatre night off, and an extra day next to it. All going well so far.
So I have Wednesday and Thursday off. Wednesday is set to be a lazy day, get some sleep, do some washing, possibly clean the kitchen. Thursday will be a lie in, possibly a trip into town then theatre in the evening. With me so far?
Well Wednesday almost went as planned. I got some rest, watched a couple of new DVDs, didn't get round to cleaning the kitchen but I did get all my laundry done.
Thursday, I slept in til about 10am. I got up, and before getting dressed I checked what time the theatre doors opened. 7pm for a 7.30pm curtain up. Good timing.....hang on....
....The ticket was for last night, the Wednesday. When I set my rota I had given myself the extra day off after the show, probably telling myself I could have a few drinks post-performance. At some point between setting my off days and yesterday I had convinced myself it was the opposite and my extra day off was before the play. It was now Thursday morning, I have a useless theatre ticket, and despite buying a ticket months in advance I am going to miss 'The Witches of Eastwick'.
This isn't the first time I've missed something at The Mayflower here in Southampton. By my reckoning I have bought tickets to 6 shows, and only attended 3. What an appalling record! In my 11 years in The Isle of Man I must have seen 30 or 40 shows at The Gaiety, and I don't recall missing a single one. The first one I missed here was 'The Wizard of Oz' (because I fell asleep), although I did buy new tickets for that one. The second was 'French and Saunders Live' which I am gutted I missed, but at the time I was very low and didn't want to leave my flat.
I am definately going to buy a ticket for the Monty Python musical 'Spamalot' which is on next year....
....I may need to get people to send me alarm calls on the day!
November 17, 2008
Mud, Mud, Glorious Mud Part II
Told you I'd try it...
Sunday afternoon, I'm at home watching the darts on ITV, enjoying a few cans and generally just chilling out. Sat in front of me is one of the tubs of 5% Fuller's Earth I brought home from work. It was staring back at me, willing me to rub it into my face. I've never had a very good sense of self control.
After the first set of darts matches I nipped to the bathroom, had a shave (didn't think it would help rubbing mud into stubble) and then a face scrub. I then returned to the lounge with a handheld mirror and removed my specs....
Well how to describe it. It doesn't apply very well, it smears rather than spreads. The smell isn't quite as overpowering as it is when it's in the jar so that was one fear avoided. After covering almost all my face and forehead, I glanced at myself in the mirror. I looked like I was trying to audtion for the black & white minstrels but got a blind man to apply my make-up!
After a few minutes my face suddenly felt very cold. A few minutes later the mud was beginning to dry out and everything hardened up. If I tried opening my mouth it was as though my face was cracking. Trying to take a swig from a can of beer was almost too difficult to execute. I didn't dare make myself a sandwich.
I had no idea how long to keep it on for. 5 minutes? an hour? two hours? overnight? Well overnight was pushing it. I didn't want to wake up with muddy pillows. Eventually I had had enough of it after about 60 minutes and went to wash it off.
This wasn't easy either. As the mud got wet it just moved around my face, rather than coming off. The sink was beginning to look like it did back in school when I used to clean my rugby boots in it! It took a good 10 minutes of washing and rinsing before I was satisfied I was mud free. I think I got away with it, the towel I dried myself wasn't caked in dirt.
So did it do any good? Not really sure. It was certainly a new experience, and my nose looked very shiny. I'm tempted to try it again on Thursday before I go to the theatre....
....I'll be using words like 'exfoliate' before you know it :o)
November 14, 2008
Mud, Mud, Glorious Mud
Something strange has arrived in the post...
Our work office is in a building with several other companies. Each company has it's own 'suite' and over time some companies have moved on and been replaced by others. The company that occupied our suite immediately prior to us was a holiday firm (not sure that's relevant but you know I like to keep you all upto date with the details)
Anyway, a parcel arrived in the post yesterday, addressed to an individual from the previous company. The padded envelope was stamped with the company logo "Absolute Aromas" and the contents felt large enough to be a pair of scented candles. Excellent, I thought, cheap Christmas presents for someone!
N.B. I am aware it is illegal to open other people's mail. I apologise wholeheartedly to the Royal Mail, and the intended recipient of the goods in question. If you come forward to claim your gift I will happily reimburse you.
As you may have guessed from the fact I'm writing a blog about this, it wasn't a pair of scented candles at all. Not even close. Inside were two 250g tubs of "5% Fuller's Earth". Now I confess I've never heard of Fuller's Earth, but the tubs they came in reminded me of the white containers you get herbal remedy pills in.
I crack the seal on one of the plastic lids and opened it up.....mud! Thick, dark, strangely scented mud. I now own 500g of posh dirt. I tried touching it and it's got the viscosity of homemade custard. (oooh look at me, using a word like viscosity!)
After a quick text to my Mum (my Mum knows the entire stock of Holland & Barretts and what each item is supposed to do) I discovered it's supposed to be applied to the skin. Very good for acne apparently and babies bums. The prospect of rubbing mud into a baby's bum doesn't exactly sound that appealing though does it!
It's hard to describe the aroma it gives off. Quite citrus-like, but with a hint of disinfectant. If you stick your nostrils right into the jar it is very overpowering. Not exactly unpleasant, but at the same time, not a smell I'd choose to rub on my face....
...although you know I'm going to have to try it tonight :o)
Our work office is in a building with several other companies. Each company has it's own 'suite' and over time some companies have moved on and been replaced by others. The company that occupied our suite immediately prior to us was a holiday firm (not sure that's relevant but you know I like to keep you all upto date with the details)
Anyway, a parcel arrived in the post yesterday, addressed to an individual from the previous company. The padded envelope was stamped with the company logo "Absolute Aromas" and the contents felt large enough to be a pair of scented candles. Excellent, I thought, cheap Christmas presents for someone!
N.B. I am aware it is illegal to open other people's mail. I apologise wholeheartedly to the Royal Mail, and the intended recipient of the goods in question. If you come forward to claim your gift I will happily reimburse you.
As you may have guessed from the fact I'm writing a blog about this, it wasn't a pair of scented candles at all. Not even close. Inside were two 250g tubs of "5% Fuller's Earth". Now I confess I've never heard of Fuller's Earth, but the tubs they came in reminded me of the white containers you get herbal remedy pills in.
I crack the seal on one of the plastic lids and opened it up.....mud! Thick, dark, strangely scented mud. I now own 500g of posh dirt. I tried touching it and it's got the viscosity of homemade custard. (oooh look at me, using a word like viscosity!)
After a quick text to my Mum (my Mum knows the entire stock of Holland & Barretts and what each item is supposed to do) I discovered it's supposed to be applied to the skin. Very good for acne apparently and babies bums. The prospect of rubbing mud into a baby's bum doesn't exactly sound that appealing though does it!
It's hard to describe the aroma it gives off. Quite citrus-like, but with a hint of disinfectant. If you stick your nostrils right into the jar it is very overpowering. Not exactly unpleasant, but at the same time, not a smell I'd choose to rub on my face....
...although you know I'm going to have to try it tonight :o)
November 11, 2008
Pattern of Sleep
I feel as rough as a bag of nails, and I have done for several days now.
I think it started when I worked very late on Friday. By the time I got home it was almost midnight and I was due back in work at 7 o'clock the following morning. I hadn't eaten that day either, so before I went to bed I had to get something to ease the stomach cramps. It was probably 2am before I finally managed to drop off, to be woken by my alarm 4 hours later.
For the next three days, I was only on short morning shifts. In at 7am but able to leave by 11 most mornings. What should I do? First thought was to get some rest, which I did, but trying to doze that late in the morning with passing traffic and noisy pedestrians isn't easy, I could managed no more than a couple of hours. This is where the problem starts....
...when I gave up trying to sleep properly I got up, but now my body now thinks I've rested. It's still daylight so it keeps me awake. Wide awake. When it comes to 9 or 10 at night when I should be going back to sleep for real, I can't. In the end I can only manage another couple of hours before it's time to go back to the office.
...and so it goes on. for the last three days it's been a pattern of returning to the flat exhausted at lunchtime, dozing for a couple of hours, then dozing again for a couple of hours at some ungodly time in the morning, then work.
It's starting to really effect me. Already I'm run-down, I've got a killer sore-throat and bags under my eyes you could carry your weekly shopping in. It feels like it did when I was trying to hold down two jobs at once, snatching tiny snooze breaks whenever my shift patterns allowed me to. Despite only working one job now, I'm getting less sleep than I did back in the dark ages. With one of my assistants on holiday I don't have a full day off until a week on Wednesday....
....if I last that long.
p.s. Sorry, that sounded like a rant. It wasn't, just helps to tell someone otherwise I think I'd go mad. My teddies are sick of hearing me whinge at them!
I think it started when I worked very late on Friday. By the time I got home it was almost midnight and I was due back in work at 7 o'clock the following morning. I hadn't eaten that day either, so before I went to bed I had to get something to ease the stomach cramps. It was probably 2am before I finally managed to drop off, to be woken by my alarm 4 hours later.
For the next three days, I was only on short morning shifts. In at 7am but able to leave by 11 most mornings. What should I do? First thought was to get some rest, which I did, but trying to doze that late in the morning with passing traffic and noisy pedestrians isn't easy, I could managed no more than a couple of hours. This is where the problem starts....
...when I gave up trying to sleep properly I got up, but now my body now thinks I've rested. It's still daylight so it keeps me awake. Wide awake. When it comes to 9 or 10 at night when I should be going back to sleep for real, I can't. In the end I can only manage another couple of hours before it's time to go back to the office.
...and so it goes on. for the last three days it's been a pattern of returning to the flat exhausted at lunchtime, dozing for a couple of hours, then dozing again for a couple of hours at some ungodly time in the morning, then work.
It's starting to really effect me. Already I'm run-down, I've got a killer sore-throat and bags under my eyes you could carry your weekly shopping in. It feels like it did when I was trying to hold down two jobs at once, snatching tiny snooze breaks whenever my shift patterns allowed me to. Despite only working one job now, I'm getting less sleep than I did back in the dark ages. With one of my assistants on holiday I don't have a full day off until a week on Wednesday....
....if I last that long.
p.s. Sorry, that sounded like a rant. It wasn't, just helps to tell someone otherwise I think I'd go mad. My teddies are sick of hearing me whinge at them!
What's in a Name?
"That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet"
Whilst I was on my travels on the Rock, I seized the opportunity to ask my friends if I could use their names in my Magnificent Octopus. It's only their christian names I want, not their surnames, but I thought it only polite that I ask if I could 'borrow' them for my book.
I'm not sure I even need permission to use a christian name. If I used the name 'Linda' for instance, I wouldn't I have to ask every Linda in the world if it's ok; so I don't think I have to ask my sister for permission, just because she's the only Linda I actually know first hand. I think the reason I began asking was just out of politeness.
It has thrown up an interesting quandary though, which came to light last night when I asked my friend Tara if I could include a character named after her. I told her the 'Tara' character would be the wife of the first victim and she sounded shocked. Are people going to assume I based the actual character who bears their name on their personality too?
This of course isn't the case. The only character I can honestly say behaves in the manner of someone I know is the central detective... and he's loosely based on me (well they say you should write about what you know!) I may have opened a can of worms though.....
Am I going to be sent hate mail if one one my friends shares their name with the muderer?
Am I going to be slapped in the face if the detective's love interest has the same name as a real female companion of mine?
Am I going to be sent to Coventry if a character that dies early on is named after a workmate?
For all those who read this blog, who might (eventually) end up reading the book, please note the following disclaimer:
All characters portrayed in this book are fictictious. Any resemblence to anyone, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author wishes to state he was just too lazy to think up imaginary names for every character so he borrowed the names of his friends and family.
p.s. Please don't send me to Coventry. I have to change trains in Birmingham to get there and I HATE Birmingham! :o)
Whilst I was on my travels on the Rock, I seized the opportunity to ask my friends if I could use their names in my Magnificent Octopus. It's only their christian names I want, not their surnames, but I thought it only polite that I ask if I could 'borrow' them for my book.
I'm not sure I even need permission to use a christian name. If I used the name 'Linda' for instance, I wouldn't I have to ask every Linda in the world if it's ok; so I don't think I have to ask my sister for permission, just because she's the only Linda I actually know first hand. I think the reason I began asking was just out of politeness.
It has thrown up an interesting quandary though, which came to light last night when I asked my friend Tara if I could include a character named after her. I told her the 'Tara' character would be the wife of the first victim and she sounded shocked. Are people going to assume I based the actual character who bears their name on their personality too?
This of course isn't the case. The only character I can honestly say behaves in the manner of someone I know is the central detective... and he's loosely based on me (well they say you should write about what you know!) I may have opened a can of worms though.....
Am I going to be sent hate mail if one one my friends shares their name with the muderer?
Am I going to be slapped in the face if the detective's love interest has the same name as a real female companion of mine?
Am I going to be sent to Coventry if a character that dies early on is named after a workmate?
For all those who read this blog, who might (eventually) end up reading the book, please note the following disclaimer:
All characters portrayed in this book are fictictious. Any resemblence to anyone, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author wishes to state he was just too lazy to think up imaginary names for every character so he borrowed the names of his friends and family.
p.s. Please don't send me to Coventry. I have to change trains in Birmingham to get there and I HATE Birmingham! :o)
November 09, 2008
Agatha Christie: The Case of the Missing Razor Blades: The Solution
Did you work it out?
...They were in my laundry hamper, in the bathroom, hiding under a bundle of used underwear and socks.
...don't ask!
...They were in my laundry hamper, in the bathroom, hiding under a bundle of used underwear and socks.
...don't ask!
November 07, 2008
Agatha Christie: The Case of the Missing Razor Blades
It's that time again. Time to stimulate your little grey cells and help me. A pack of 8 razor blades have vanished......
.....and this time the crime remains unsolved.
Ok, we need to back track about 2 weeks. I had just been paid, and as usual I headed off into town with my little shopping list to buy the essentials for the month ahead. I always do it now - make a list as the month goes on of things that are about to run out and then as soon as my wages hit my account I go out and purchase them all. This month the list was as follows:
Pack of 60 "one a day" multi vitamin tablets
Tube of antiseptic cream for emergencies
Bottle of mouthwash
A bottle of face scrub
A packet of Gillette Fusion razor blades
Well wasn't that a stroke of luck. This month's list can all be purchased at Superdrug or Boots. One quick shop and it'll all be done. Superdrug it is (well it's nearer to home than Boots, and as I don't have a Boots loyalty card there was no point walking the extra 50 yards).
Ok, so far so good. I was up and down the aisles in a flash, grabbing everything I needed and getting to the counter in less than 5 minutes. Everything on the list as required, including the blades...
...a little break here. Have you bought razor blades recently? If not, let me explain that you don't actually pick up the blades in the shop anymore, all you select is a piece of cardboard showing what you would like to purchase. You hand this over to the disfunctional YTS girl at the check-out and she retrieves the real razors from under the counter. I think it's supposed to deter shop-lifters or something. I only mention this because it could be significant in your investigations later on.
Ok, total bill came to about £20 (I know, seems pricey, but the blades alone were £13 and those vitamins aren't cheap). I carry it all home in a tiny pink plastic carrier bag and leave it on the kitchen table. I take out the vitamin pills so I can take the first one, but the other purchases remain in the bag until required.
Now fast forward to last night. Time for a shave. I've started looking like neanderthal man. I need a new blade for my razor so it's over to the pink bag......empty. Ok, not to worry, I must have already unpacked them - they'll be in the bathroom. Nope. Fallen on the floor in the kitchen? Nope.
And that is why I am stuck (and getting hairier). I am dumbfounded to know what I've done with them. If I've unpacked them, where did I put them? Did I even pick them up in the shop in the first place? Perhaps the dizzy YTS girl scanned the cardboard cut-out but never gave me the real blades. I really have no idea.
Tonight I'll go through the flat with a fine tooth comb looking for them, but if I don't find them...
...I'm going to have to trim my face with a kitchen carving knife!
.....and this time the crime remains unsolved.
Ok, we need to back track about 2 weeks. I had just been paid, and as usual I headed off into town with my little shopping list to buy the essentials for the month ahead. I always do it now - make a list as the month goes on of things that are about to run out and then as soon as my wages hit my account I go out and purchase them all. This month the list was as follows:
Pack of 60 "one a day" multi vitamin tablets
Tube of antiseptic cream for emergencies
Bottle of mouthwash
A bottle of face scrub
A packet of Gillette Fusion razor blades
Well wasn't that a stroke of luck. This month's list can all be purchased at Superdrug or Boots. One quick shop and it'll all be done. Superdrug it is (well it's nearer to home than Boots, and as I don't have a Boots loyalty card there was no point walking the extra 50 yards).
Ok, so far so good. I was up and down the aisles in a flash, grabbing everything I needed and getting to the counter in less than 5 minutes. Everything on the list as required, including the blades...
...a little break here. Have you bought razor blades recently? If not, let me explain that you don't actually pick up the blades in the shop anymore, all you select is a piece of cardboard showing what you would like to purchase. You hand this over to the disfunctional YTS girl at the check-out and she retrieves the real razors from under the counter. I think it's supposed to deter shop-lifters or something. I only mention this because it could be significant in your investigations later on.
Ok, total bill came to about £20 (I know, seems pricey, but the blades alone were £13 and those vitamins aren't cheap). I carry it all home in a tiny pink plastic carrier bag and leave it on the kitchen table. I take out the vitamin pills so I can take the first one, but the other purchases remain in the bag until required.
Now fast forward to last night. Time for a shave. I've started looking like neanderthal man. I need a new blade for my razor so it's over to the pink bag......empty. Ok, not to worry, I must have already unpacked them - they'll be in the bathroom. Nope. Fallen on the floor in the kitchen? Nope.
And that is why I am stuck (and getting hairier). I am dumbfounded to know what I've done with them. If I've unpacked them, where did I put them? Did I even pick them up in the shop in the first place? Perhaps the dizzy YTS girl scanned the cardboard cut-out but never gave me the real blades. I really have no idea.
Tonight I'll go through the flat with a fine tooth comb looking for them, but if I don't find them...
...I'm going to have to trim my face with a kitchen carving knife!
November 06, 2008
Fraggle Rock Part II
To be perfectly honest, there isn't much to report about my little adventure this time.
I don't mean that to sound like I had a bad time, far from it, it's just it was everything I expected. On the Saturday I arrived, I met up with my friends, including Jackie. We stayed in the pub til late, mainly playing cards and having a really good laugh. Sarah came in too with a couple of her friends, and as I was staying at her house it meant I got a lift home as well.
A friend of hers from rugby was also staying over, so I took the couch. In the morning I had a bit of time with Caoimhe before I got the bus down to Port Erin to spend the day with Jackie. It started with a carvery meal, which I didn't appreciate much (I was still a little delicate from the night before). We stayed in the pub though for a few hours, chatting, feeding the juke-box, putting the world to rights. It was a lovely, relaxing way to spend an afternoon.
That night, I treated me and Sarah to an Indian take-away and we played a couple of games of Scrabble (for the record I won 2-nil!)
Next morning I looked after baby for half an hour or so whilst her mum did household things. I took her for a walk too to get breakfast for Sarah. The rest of the day I spent in Douglas with friends, including meeting up briefly with Tim and Lyndsey and meeting baby Jasmine for the first time. Such a cutie. The night finished with a few games of darts (for the record I won 3-nil!) before returning to Sarah's for a pizza and more Scrabble (for the record I lost 2-nil!)
Final day, was more of a day of winding down. I left Sarah's in the morning, walked into town and just stayed there until it was time for the ferry. Nothing exciting to report, no incidents, no causes for concern, just a day of sitting down, chewing the fat with different friends. Quite a somber day really in retrospect.
I did everything I set out to do, I saw the people I wanted to see, perhaps I just wanted it to last a bit longer....
....and I realised I haven't got over Sarah yet either.
I don't mean that to sound like I had a bad time, far from it, it's just it was everything I expected. On the Saturday I arrived, I met up with my friends, including Jackie. We stayed in the pub til late, mainly playing cards and having a really good laugh. Sarah came in too with a couple of her friends, and as I was staying at her house it meant I got a lift home as well.
A friend of hers from rugby was also staying over, so I took the couch. In the morning I had a bit of time with Caoimhe before I got the bus down to Port Erin to spend the day with Jackie. It started with a carvery meal, which I didn't appreciate much (I was still a little delicate from the night before). We stayed in the pub though for a few hours, chatting, feeding the juke-box, putting the world to rights. It was a lovely, relaxing way to spend an afternoon.
That night, I treated me and Sarah to an Indian take-away and we played a couple of games of Scrabble (for the record I won 2-nil!)
Next morning I looked after baby for half an hour or so whilst her mum did household things. I took her for a walk too to get breakfast for Sarah. The rest of the day I spent in Douglas with friends, including meeting up briefly with Tim and Lyndsey and meeting baby Jasmine for the first time. Such a cutie. The night finished with a few games of darts (for the record I won 3-nil!) before returning to Sarah's for a pizza and more Scrabble (for the record I lost 2-nil!)
Final day, was more of a day of winding down. I left Sarah's in the morning, walked into town and just stayed there until it was time for the ferry. Nothing exciting to report, no incidents, no causes for concern, just a day of sitting down, chewing the fat with different friends. Quite a somber day really in retrospect.
I did everything I set out to do, I saw the people I wanted to see, perhaps I just wanted it to last a bit longer....
....and I realised I haven't got over Sarah yet either.
Fraggle Rock Part I
I'm back! Anybody miss me? anybody? I've been back over to The Isle of Man, possibly my last visit for several months, but I hope it won't be.
As usual I'll start with the travel. What A nightmare. My train to Manchester was set to go ontime. I had a reserved seat, my portable DVD player, some sandwiches and a few cans Direct journey, so no need to change in London or Birmingham, what could go wrong?
Problem 1. The trian before mine had broken down with mechanical trouble, leaving a full set of passengers stranded. These helpless individuals were therefore forced to get on our train.
Problem 2. It was Friday and after 5pm. The worst time for long distance train travel as it is the most common time for commuters to go home.
Problem 3. It was the start of half-term for all major universities. My particular train has come from Bournemouth (which has a uni) Southampton (which has 2) and passes through Coventry, Birmingham, Oxford and Reading (all with big campuses). Students have never heard of travelling light, so as well as themselves they have a suitcase each and a rucksack (probably full of dirty washing for their Mums)
I managed to get into my reserved seat, but spent most of the journey squashed on both sides. It was only when I got past Birmingham that things started to quieten down a little. It was so busy a group of students were using the toilet cubicle as a make-shift party venue (one of whom was dressed as a giant chicken. Really, I'm not making this up!). I didn't dare drink any of the beer I'd brought with me in case I got caught short.
The ferry over to the island the next day wasn't too bad. Very busy, considering it was sailing from Heysham, but not so bad that I couldn't get a seat. Actually arrived 20 minutes early too, which I've never heard of before. Gave me an extra 20 minutes in the pub when I arrived :o)
Coming home was fairly uneventful. I slept part of the way on the ferry, it was so quiet. The trains were relatively peaceful too. This time I had to get across London, but it was well after rush-hour. I arrived back at the flat to a pile of bills, the whole apartment the temperature of the Arctic Circle, and a funny smell coming from the kitchen (I forgot to put the bin out before I left). I just went to bed and stayed there til it was time for work the next morning....
....back to the grindstone.
As usual I'll start with the travel. What A nightmare. My train to Manchester was set to go ontime. I had a reserved seat, my portable DVD player, some sandwiches and a few cans Direct journey, so no need to change in London or Birmingham, what could go wrong?
Problem 1. The trian before mine had broken down with mechanical trouble, leaving a full set of passengers stranded. These helpless individuals were therefore forced to get on our train.
Problem 2. It was Friday and after 5pm. The worst time for long distance train travel as it is the most common time for commuters to go home.
Problem 3. It was the start of half-term for all major universities. My particular train has come from Bournemouth (which has a uni) Southampton (which has 2) and passes through Coventry, Birmingham, Oxford and Reading (all with big campuses). Students have never heard of travelling light, so as well as themselves they have a suitcase each and a rucksack (probably full of dirty washing for their Mums)
I managed to get into my reserved seat, but spent most of the journey squashed on both sides. It was only when I got past Birmingham that things started to quieten down a little. It was so busy a group of students were using the toilet cubicle as a make-shift party venue (one of whom was dressed as a giant chicken. Really, I'm not making this up!). I didn't dare drink any of the beer I'd brought with me in case I got caught short.
The ferry over to the island the next day wasn't too bad. Very busy, considering it was sailing from Heysham, but not so bad that I couldn't get a seat. Actually arrived 20 minutes early too, which I've never heard of before. Gave me an extra 20 minutes in the pub when I arrived :o)
Coming home was fairly uneventful. I slept part of the way on the ferry, it was so quiet. The trains were relatively peaceful too. This time I had to get across London, but it was well after rush-hour. I arrived back at the flat to a pile of bills, the whole apartment the temperature of the Arctic Circle, and a funny smell coming from the kitchen (I forgot to put the bin out before I left). I just went to bed and stayed there til it was time for work the next morning....
....back to the grindstone.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
