The Maltese Adventure Day 4

I'm sorry that all I seem to be writing about it driving in Malta, but sadly, so far that's all I've been up to.

Day 4 (Friday 30th if you're keeping notes in a diary) I was able to have a lie in. I wasn't due in the office until 1pm (midday to all you people on GMT). I was also able to sample the hotel breakfast I was paying for for the first time.

The meal is a 'help yourself' style breakfast. A choice of cereals, different breads with a toasting machine nearby, a selection of fresh juices, several different coffees and teas and a cooler cabinet full of different meats and salad veg. There are also bread rolls and the usual choice of butter/marge, jams etc. So for me it was two slices of toast, a few different slices of cold meats (think I had salami, bologne, chicken and chorizo) some cucumber, fresh pepper and tomato washed down with a few glasses of pineapple juice. Well I might as well get my money's worth!

The drive to work was almost a success. I only made one mistake and ended up in a building site. Thankfully this time, turning round and going back put me in the direction I was supposed to be going in so it was hardly a mistake at all. I'll just put it down to a spot of extra site-seeing.

The drive home was a different matter all together...

It was the first time driving at night. You'd think the roads would quieten down by 9pm, but no, they just fill up with revelers and people going off for a night out. It wasn't the last part of the journey that caused problems, it was just getting from the office to the main road. A miriad of tight alleys, back streets, no road markings. I was going round in circles again. At one point I went down a steep hill, only to discover at the bottom I had just gone down a one way street in the wrong direction! There is just no logic to the road system. It looks and 'feels' like it's in a grid (like New York) but every so often, for no apparent reason, one particular road will be one-way. Then the next will just have a 'no right turn' sign at the end of it. Many times you can actually see where you want to end up but have no way of working out how to get there! The total journey time to get home was 40 minutes.

I always park in a small car-park at the bottom of the hill in St Julans. It's a good 5 minute walk to the hotel from there, up a steep hill but a) it's the only excersise I'm likely to get and b) if I try and park near to the hotel I"m likely to get trapped in another set of one-way alleys. The car-park belongs to a local supermarket, and at all hours of the day there is an old man waving traffic in and out as though he's an attendant. He doesn't wear a uniform though, but he does help a lot. I've noticed people giving him a tip, but so far I"ve just walked past him....

...I'm expecting to come back one morning and find he's let the tyres down on my car!

The Maltese Adventure Day 3

Hmmm, today was the first day I had to make my own way to the office. It should take between 15 and 25 minutes depending on traffic (and in my case, depending on how slow I have to travel through the water). I made one mistake early on, but was quick to correct it, then I came to a roundabout. I wasn't sure if we took the second or third exit yesterday, so I tried the second exit. Oops, definitely not right, so I need to find an opportunity to turn round and go back....

2 and a half hours later I arrived at the office. I wish I could say I was exagerating but I'm not. At one point I was only 2km from the airport (which is in the dead centre of the island) and at other point I was 2km from the capital Valetta (which is on the north-west coast). I was going round and round in circles, in heavy, early morning traffic sometimes 5 or 6 lanes wide.

The problem you see is roadsigns in Malta are not very helpful. Firstly they mainly do not exist. You approach a roundabout and it says 'get in lane' but doesn't tell you where any of the lanes go! Secondly, when a sign does exist, such as 'St Julian straight on' you think you're on the right track, only to find 'St Julian' has disappeared from the next road sign you come across!

For the first hour I was finding it funny. Maltese drivers are agressive, but they never bully. Despite being lost and heading in the wrong direction I never felt intimidated. For the second hour however I was getting frustrated. When you've seen the same three-arched structure go past for the fourth time it makes you wonder if you're trapped on Groundhog Day. In the end I pulled into a town to ask directions. I didn't actually know the name of the town my office is in so I asked for directions to St Julans instead. I thought if I could get home I could start again.

I went into a little newsagents and spoke to a lovely old man behind the counter. It seemed I was quite close to home (so I HAD come full circle) and he sent me on my way. What happened next is beyond belief.

I got into the car, set off in the direction he sent me and as I approached a junction I craned my neck left and right to make sure it was clear to go. As I turned to the left I saw it..... my office building.

By complete accident, and after driving for two hours down random roads and alleyways I had pulled up to ask for directions less than half a mile from my ultimate destination. I had approached it from the opposite side I was supposed to, but there it was! The two people I was training were there waiting for me (I wasn't actually late as I had set off two hours early in the vain hope of getting some work done in advance).

The drive home was less eventful. Yes I made another mistake, but one I could easily correct. It involved me going round a roundabout 3 times (National Lampoon's European Vaction anyone? 'Hey look kids... Big Ben!!')

Dinner came courtesy of MacDonalds (I know it's hardly exciting but I just wanted to get back to the hotel and I had to walk past it), and although I've wasted half a tank of fuel, I never once felt stress...

..just frustration.

The Maltese Adventure Day 2

After a quick breakfast Michael and I drove to the office. I had to memorise the route because after today, he would be back in Germany and I would have my own hire car. It seemed pretty straight forward....Remember I said that.

The office feels more like an apartment. A kitchen, bathroom, and two side rooms that would do as bedrooms. The two desks have been set up in the hall, in a little niche. It has it's own, wide balcony overlooking the town. It's one of those views you see on the news in war stories. Hundreds and hundreds of odd shaped buildings, all made from that sandy coloured stone, each one with bricks missing and paint flaking off.

We left early because Michael needed to return his hire car, and I needed to pick up mine. We left each other at the rental shop and I had the task of finding my way back to St Julians. It was now raining.

Rain has a funny effect on the roads in Malta. Firstly, the roads have no camber, so all the water remains on the surface. Secondly, the roads are full of lumps, bumps and HUGE potholes, so water can collect almost anyway and get quite deep. Thirdly, it when it rains, it rains heavily so in only a few minutes every surface is either a lake or a waterfall. Add to this the fact I have no idea where I am, or what direction I'm supposed to set off in and needless to say, I got lost.

It wasn't too bad though. I knew St Julians was a harbour town so I headed downhill where possible and towards water when it was in sight. After about 30 minutes I saw a tower in the distance I recognised, and 10 minutes after that I was parking up at home, ready to get some refreshments. I found a Scottish themed pub just behind my hotel, so a few pints of local Maltese lager were consumed. Dinner was from a vendor on the street corner. Being so close to Scicily, there are a lot of Italian restaurants and cafes here, but being a pizza fan, that is no heartache for me :o)

Another noisy night, but again, another night where it didn't bother me. I watched Midsomer Murders in bed until I dozed and had a very peaceful rest.

The Maltese Adventure Day 1

I can't write an entry for every day I'm here in Malta, but rather that call them 'Part I', Part II' etc. I'll try to tell you to what date the story relates. So this is Day one. Traveling to the island and settling in.

Traveling over wasn't too bad except for a few stressful moments on the first flight from Manchester to Heathrow. They boarded us thirty minutes late, then announced we had a further one hour delay due to fog in London. So why board us then and get us strapped in? I was bursting for the loo but had to wait nearly ninety minutes before I could go. I think the business guy next to me was worried he was about to get a wet trouser leg!

But the delay wasn't enough for me to miss my connection, and right on time I landed in sunny Malta. I can call it sunny, because it was, although there was also a strong wing coming over from Italy, so it wasn't exactly short sleeve weather. Guess what I was traveling in!

Michael was there to meet me, and he drove us both to the town of St Julians where we would both be staying overnight. Different hotels mind you (he got the posh one, I got the cheap one hidden down a back street). No, I'm doing it a injustice. The hotel is lovely, quite small but clean, warm and comfortable. I keep losing it when I go out for a walk, but that's half the charm of Malta I think.

That first night I walked around the town, and took a few snaps as the sun set. It's quite a tourist destination. Lots of restaurants and bars. A few recognisable names mingle amongst the local taverns (MacDonalds and Pizza Hut for example). Surprisingly there are a lot of 'corner shops' that sell bottled drinks, beers and water. The one I bought a drink at even had a till like Arkwrights that slammed shut when you put a banknote in it!

The people are all very friendly, even if they don't always look it. Shop keepers tend to stand out of the pavement, which can be a bit intimidating, but it's the same for everyone. I got an early night as it was going to be an early start the next day. As I lay in my bed, the noises form outside seemed to get louder. As with many Mediteranean destinations, the towns come alive at night, rather than in the afternoon - so at 10pm it was far busier on the streets than it had been at 7 when I was walking around. I thought it would keep me awake, but I still drifted off to sleep.

p.s. I'll be adding photos at a later date, so worth coming back to these entries another time.

Dressing to Impress

I know I go on a lot about what happens on my travels, but quite frankly, half my life seems to be on board trains. My recent trip from Southampton to Manchester is no exception.

I had a reserved seat as usual, it turned out to be an aisle seat at a table, and two girls were already in the window areas. No matter. They probably thought I was weird for sitting next to them when other seats were free, but I also knew within 20 minutes the train would be packed, and I'd be grateful I took up my rightful place. I was right. By the time we got through Winchester, the train was standing room only.

Initially I thought the girls were teenagers, but after listening in to what they were saying, they must have been about 20 to 23. I could only see the girl opposite, but she was fairly attractive. A bit too much make-up perhaps, but isn't that the modern way? All I knew about the girl next to me was she had long black hair. I only knew that because if I looked away from her I saw the reflection of both of us in the window opposite.

Anyway, I'm off track (train ride...off track? geddit? oh never mind) We got through Coventry and Wolverhampton and the train quietened down a little. The girls' conversation had turned to 'tonight's party' and if 'he' would be there. Then, almost without warning, the girl opposite got out of her seat, collected her suitcase from the luggage rack and brought it back to the table. She then proceeded to empty every conceivable beauty aid out of it and spread it all over the surface. Make-up, hair curlers, a mirror, deodorant, perfume you name it, it appeared.

"I'm sorry, you don't mind do you?" said the girl next to me.

"Er, no." I replied, not exactly sure what she meant.

They then proceeded to make themselves up for a night out, including plugging a blow dryer into the mobile phone socket! It took nearly 45 minutes before one of them declared she was ready. (No wonder women take so long in the bathroom). She then said to her friend next to me:

"Do you think I should put my tights on now?"

Now can you imagine what was going through my head right now. I had visions of her undressing under the table and using me as a barracade! What she actually meant was she was going to go to the on-board toilet and get changed... which she did.

...she came back dressed to kill. She left in a pair of jeans, a scruffy top and a heavy overcoat. She came back in black tights, a short, low cut dress, and her hair pushed up. The transformation was unbelievable. That part only took 10 minutes (so why did the make up bit take nearly an hour?)

Her friend then asked to get past me and disappeared to the toilet too. She left wearing denim hotpants over black tights, a white top and a duffel coat. She came back bare legged, with a short black dress, halter neck style, but very low cut at the back, her hair also up and glitter added to her mascara.

...I still say women look better au naturel, but I'm glad I've now seen first hand the process they go through to 'make an effort'.

Flixton vs Formby Part II

This is the footy version. Those of a non sporting nature may want to skip past this entry.

Valley Road. The fortress of Flixton FC. A 9 feet high perimeter fence enclosing the mudded pitch, reminisent of The Somme. Thankfully we didn't have to wait til the Christmas ceasefire for a football game to break out.

Even before the echo of the starting whistle had subsided, the ball was in the hands of the Formby goalkeeper. Within seconds it was in the waiting arms of his opposite number. True 'end to end stuff'. Sadly, the toing and froing didn't amount to a shot on target for almost all of the first 45 minutes. Neither side dominated, and neither side showed signs of breaking the deadlock, until the half hour.

Flixton's right-back and one of Formby's strikers chased a through ball towards Flixton's corner flag. To every man and his dog in the ground it looked like it was going out of play for a goal kick, but the right-back took it upon himself to body check the attacker, with no apparent play for the ball. A deserved free kick was awarded, about a yard from the corner the flag. The ball was swung in, a few headers ensued, then a toe-poke into the bottom right hand corner of the goal left the goalkeeper ferretting in the back of the net for the ball and Flixton 1-nil down.

No more action til half time.

The second half was clearly dominated by two things: Flixton pressing for an equalizer, and Formby pressing for the final whistle. With only a few minutes on the second half's clock they were time wasting; delaying throw-ins, arguing over free-kicks, faking injuries. Even at this level of football, to sit back on a 1-nil lead is scandalous.

Flixton's first big chance of the half came at 15 minutes. Flixton broke away and a three on three situation occurred. A clever pass from the right to left wing left the Flixton striker one on one with the keeper. I know he'll blame the turf, but what happened next was a farce. The forward went for a shot on goal, clipped a divot and ended up on his arse. The ball went forward no more than 12 inches, the Formby keeper easily gathered it, and kept the game flowing.

15 minutes later, half an hour into the 2nd half, Flixton's next best chance came. 21 men camped out in the Formby area, the ball playing pinball between players, and suddenly a looping high ball was falling towards an unmarked central midfielder. He teed up his shot, positioned his body perfectly, and let fly....

Sadly, due to the fact his timing was off, the ball had massive amounts of top and side spin on it and there was a defender in the way, there is now a house in Valley Road that has a new football as a garden ornament.

As the ref studied his watch, the last chance of the game also fell Flixton's way. A corner awarded, and as in all good cup ties, even the goalkeeper was heading into the box for a chance to steal glory. The ball fell to the keeper's feet and he struck it first time, perfectly straight, right between the posts....

...only twenty feet too high. It's now in the same garden as the previous ball.

..and so it ended. Flixton out of the Vodkat League Cup at the last 16 stage. A fantastic day out though, but I can't say Formby fully deserved the victory. The way the game played out, nil-nil would have been a fairer result, but you can't have everything.

Flixton v Formby Part I

This is my experience about going to see my 'local' team for the first time in about 20 years. There is nothing at all in this entry to do with the football itself, spin on to part two if that's what you're after.

I'm at the nearest pub to the ground, trying to sample some of the pre-match atmosphere. Scratch that, I'm playing the quiz machine as usual and watching the clock to see if it's time to leave yet. I walk down to the ground about 45 minutes before kick off and found it deserted, and looking like a reject filming location for The Great Escape. But no, as I walked round the exterior fence I find a turnstyle, and I find a man, and he has a cap on...

"you coming in my friend?"

"Are you open?" I reply

"Of course, that'll be a fiver."

..and in I go, I lean on the 3 foot high perimeter fence to sample the pre match atmosphere... for all of 30 seconds. It's freezing and there's no one there! So I venture inside the clubhouse.

Now this is where it gets interesting. Not only are they showing the Hartlepool v West Ham FA Cup match on a big projector screen, but Export lager is only £2.10 a pint! I'm staying here til as close to 3pm as I can manage....

...I venture out for the first half, and come back seconds before the halftime whistle (read part two for details of the game)

a quick pint and a spicy pepperami for half time, and a catch up of the other halftime scores on Gillette Soccer Saturday, then back out for the last 45 minutes.

Final whistle. Now I was torn. I was planning on going home in time to watch the Manchester United game on TV, but I needed the toilet. As I crossed through the clubhouse to get to the facilities, they changed the channel for the pre-match build up. What should I do? Of course I decided to stay for the game (or at least the first half.)

I positioned myself right at the back at a big empty table, I'm not a local, or a member so I didn't want to intrude on the better seats. A few lads sat near me, then a few more then ever more. Suddenly my personal space was being invaded...

...Then the platters of sandwiches appeared. I was sat at the table reserved for the away team! No wonder they were all speaking in Scouse accents! As everyone around me devoured the spread, I made a hasty exit and disappeared out the door. I had just spent the last 20 minutes enjoying a pint with the enemy!

The walk home was with my ipod but I was frozen to death. Despite the three layers I was wearing, I couldn't feel any of my fingers. I was glad to see my parents front door....

....Great fun though, a fiver well spent.

Updating the Masses Part IV

Just a few updates and little additions for regular blog readers.

1. I don't think Bob the Triffid is going to survive much longer. I've kept him well fed, but I think the recent cold spell, coupled with the building site outside his favourite window for the past 6 months have finally taken their toll. He's still alive, but I can't see him surviving 3 weeks whilst I'm away. Everyone keep their fingers crossed.

2. Talking of plants, Roberta his girlfriend is still technically still alive in the office, but looks manky. The central red shoot had whithered away, but the foliage is all still green and lush. No idea what's wrong, but I keep watering her when she's thirsty.

3. Final point on plant life, my attempt to grow chilli seeds doesn't seem to have worked. I followed Jamie Oliver's instructions, but they haven't germinated. Perhaps I should have waited til after winter. Oh well, I'll try again in the spring.

4. There was an entry back in October about me cooking my first Southampton roast dinner. It now has the photograph added. Probably wasn't worth the wait :o)

5. I'm writing this in the flat on Thursday afternoon. This time tomorrow I'll be somewhere just outside Birmingham on a crowded train, heading for Stockport. I don't expect to be back on the south coast for nearly a month. God knows how many take-away menus I'll find behind the door when I get back! I did remember to organise a holiday from LoveFilm, so that'll save me a few quid.

6. Talking of money, I've found out in Malta I won't be staying in walking distance of the office I'll be training in. My boss's response was "You can get cabs if you like and keep receipts to claim it back." 3 weeks of taxis?!?! I couldn't afford 3 days, never mind 3 weeks. He's going to be over there for the first couple of days, so I'll get him to sub me hard currency.

7. Remember I told you I was scared to go into the little park in the pitch black? Well a few days ago I ventured in, determined to conquer my fear. Guess what happened. It's just before 7am and as I walked through, I stood on a tiny frozen puddle of mud, fell dramatically backwards and ended up sprawled over the dirty concrete. I got a bruise on my arse and knocked my right elbow.... the same elbow I sustained a Wii injury on. Now I know the real reason I was scared to go in there!

Think that's about it. Saturday I'm hoping to see Flixton FC play a league cup game, Sunday I'm meeting The Pole for a curry and beers in Chorlton, and on Monday and I'm hoping to meet my internet friend in The Trafford Centre for lunch, although that is up in the air at the moment as she has a family crisis brewing. Hopefully I'll be able to find time to keep my blog upto date from Malta, might even add a few pics....

....if I remember to take the right computer cables with me!

The WOB Testers

Last night, Sunday, I got a phone call off my work mate, Pete. Would I like to go for a few drinks? Well! An opportunity to go out in Southampton with someone who knows where everything actually is, and more importantly how to get home again. How could I refuse.

In reality, what actually happened was we met at 8pm in a pub I already knew. We played about half a dozen games of pool over a few drinks, and left when the rock DJ got a bit too heavy for both our tastes. We moved onto another pub (a basement drinking den I'd never heard of) and arrived just as a pub quiz was about to start. How could we resist.

90 minutes and three drinks later we were the proud owners of 10 bottles of Budweiser for coming first. Mainly due to me knowing Noddy's occupation is a taxi driver, and that Barrack Obama was born in Hawaii. Think it was the first quiz I've ever attended that had no music round at all. That probably helped contribute to our victory.

They kicked us out at about 11.30, so we decided to call it a night. I got to keep the booze as Pete can't drink lager, and I walked home through the deserted shopping streets. (Note to Southampton City Council. If it wasn't for the high street stores having lit up banners and fronts the main road would be extremely dark and forboding).

Got home about midnight, went straight to bed, logged on to play a game of Scrabble and fell asleep back to front on the mattress, my feet resting on my pillows....

....A great night, and hopefully more to come when I return ftom Malta.

p.s. The WOB Testers was our team name. WOB stands for World of Bets (our company's name)

Freud Would be Proud

I've been dwelling on my life and future recently, something I do every so often. I've come to some conclusions.

Firstly (and probably most obvious) I have an addictive personality. If I start something I have to take it to extremes. Drinking and gambling are the obvious examples from my past, but even in my present life I can see I find it hard to just settle for 'doing' something. I need to attempt to excel at it, even if it leads to failure.

Secondly, I am so shy. Now anyone who has met me will laugh at that statement and tell me I'm lying, but I am. Yes I've been on stage, yes I've been on TV, yes I've sang a million times at kareoke....BUT.... in all those cases I'm not being me. I'm acting, or pretending. As soon as I'm forced to be Geoff Gibson I fall into an abyss of low self image and curl up into a metophorical ball. Ask me to pretend to be something else and I'll happily do it in front of a crowd of millions. Ask me to be Geoff and I'd have trouble if the audience could be counted on the fingers of one hand....

Which leads me to Malta. I'm not looking forward to it. I know I can train them, I know I'm good at what I do, but I'm not a traveller. My previous holidays have been to 'comfort zone' places, Norfolk, Vegas etc. It helps that it's an English speaking country, but I'm still stepping outside my usual target area.

I mentioned to a colleague recently that I was shy, and she laughed in my face. I really think I hide behind a facade. I'm supposed to be management, but right now I couldn't manage a pea soup in a brewery's kitchen.

Oh well, I'm still going, and I'll still train them and I'll survive the experience. Just wish I could get over the fear I have in advance.

Then again, I get a nervous fear every time I get the train back to Manchester, I worry about how busy it'll be, will I get someone next to me, will I get to my reserved seat, will the toilet be available....

...I'm such a worry wart!

I am not a Number - I am a Free Man!

I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered!

One of my TV heroes has sadly passed away. Patrick McGoohan, most widely known as The Prisoner dies today aged 80.

It wasn't The Prisoner who introduced me to the actor, it was a low budget horror film called Scanners, in which certain people could make other people's heads explode just by concentrating hard. Not the greatest film in the world, but at least it was original!

...but it was The Prisoner that I came to love. Such a bizarre programme, but mesmerising to watch. By the end of the 16 episodes I don't think even the cast and crew knew what was going on, but it didn't matter. Chances are it wouldn't have been the cult success it was if it hadn't been for Patrick.

Only recently I managed to get to see his earlier series, Dangerman. A fantastic show, and definately worth a viewing.

With a new version of The Prisoner currently in production for ITV, I only hope they do it justice - not just for the fans of the original show, but now for the memory of it's former star.

R.I.P. Patrick McGoohan

No sleep.... but loving it

I've just been away for a long weekend, did you miss me? I stayed at my parents, but this time I had Sarah and Caoimhe with me.

I'm not sure how to write this entry. If I go into in depth detail about everything we'll be here til November, so I'll try to keep it as short as possible, without missing anything important out.

Firstly, Sarah and munchkin came over a day early so they could get to Sarah's rugby game on time on the Saturday. We arrived in plenty of time, butties made, drinks packed, Caoimhe freshly changed... and the game was frozen off. Looks like I'll have to make another trip up north at some point if I want to see Sarah play.

So what to do instead. It didn't take much persuading to go to the golf driving range. Sarah hadn't held a golf club since her attempt at minature golf in Great Yarmouth, but as it turned out she was a natural. Not sure where my skills disappeared to, I couldn't hit a barn door if it was 6 feet in front of me!

Sarah got on well with my Dad too, even getting a bit competitive when they played on the Wii together. I can see a long standing sporting rivalry building there! :o)

The nicest day for me was the Monday. Me, Sarah and Caiomhe, all day, just the three of us, being a little family unit. We were in the Trafford Centre, and despite the sleepless nights previous, I had a fantastic time. Carrying baby, letting her ride on my shoulders, feeding her, sharing giggles with her, even singing to her, it was all lovely. I don't think I've ever spent that long in the Trafford Centre, certainly not without visiting the cinema, but I'd do it all again at the drop of a hat.

The last time it was just the three of us was Norfolk, but then there were stressful moments. a) We all got sick seperately, b) me and Sarah had split up, and c) Caoimhe's real Dad was pestering Sarah, but this time it was different. When no one else was involved we got on so well. If it was all three of us, or just me and baby, it was a blast.

Sadly, I can't see them before I go to Malta, so it's likely to be 6 weeks before we're together again. We will be going to Wales though, as soon as I'm back, another chance to just be a little family unit.

....I'm missing them both already

p.s. the title of the blog entry is because Caoimhe had a wonderful habit of not wanting to sleep til the small hours of the morning, despite the fact it was a big bed, myself and Sarah were pushed out to the edges and Munchkin had 99% of the available space...I'll get my own back one day :o)

Grey Sausages and a Late Addition

I knew I was going away for a long weekend, so there was no point buying in any fresh food. Chance to eat up anything about to hit it's sell by date...

Well my fridge is pretty empty at the moment. A packet of cheese (still unwrapped), one satsuma, one two litre bottle of cola and a packet of 100% pork sausages I bought about a week ago from the Co-op. Looks like it's sausages for tea then.

The reason I bought them in the first place was they had been reduced in price. £2.99 down to 99p. Can't argue with that for 8 pure meat sausages. Of course, the reason they had been reduced was the fact they were about to go out of date. As if that ever bothered me :o)

They were now a full week past their best however, and when I opened the packet I was hit by an overwhelming aroma. The only way I can describe it is the smell of home-made mince pies. I know that doesn't make sense, but that is exactly the pong they were giving off. The other thing that struck me was the fact they were grey. Not slightly pink, not brown, but grey. The grey of papier mache.

I've never seen grey sausages, and coupled with the smell, I had to assume they were off. No matter, I'll cook them anyway and see what they smell like then. If they still reek of mince pies I'll chuck them away. Well, they did still smell, but I was hungry..... so I ate them!

....so far, they have stayed down :o)

I should also point out that I was so worried about eating them I forgot to turn the grill off. I found it about three hours later when I went back into the kitchen for a drink. No damage was done, but the whole kitchen was like a Swedish sauna. So much for trying to keep my electricity bill down.

Late addition. Rather than start a new blog entry, I need to add a piece to the 'missed breakfast' story. On my flight over to Shannon I met a celebrity!

While I was going through security I noticed Michael Greco. Probably not a name you know, but he played Bebe DiMarco in Eastenders. Only reason I know him is I'm aware he's given up acting to become a professional poker player. He often turns up on TV tournaments.

Of course, I didn't speak to him. He's slightly famous, I'm a nobody. You sort of get that attitude living on the Isle of Man, lots of famous people pay the island a visit, but no one bothers them when they do turn up. Chances are, he's not going to be on my flight anyway.

...but he was. While I was queuing to board, he was stood to the side of me with two friends, both with strong East London accents. I took a deep breath, turned to him and said:

"Going over for a tournament?"

"Yes, in Galway," he replied.

End of story. That's it. I didn't carry on the conversation, neither did he, although I'm sure he was secretly happy I'd recognised him as a poker player instead of a soap actor....

...or perhaps not :o)

Maltesers Part III

It's official, I'm off to be a Malteser!

After much hair pulling, teeth grinding and cat kicking, I now have a flight booked to go to Malta at the end of January. At the moment it is open ended, but it's expected I'll be there for about three weeks.

Coupled with that, I've got myself a prepaid Mastercard, (exactly like any other Mastercard but you have to put the money on to it before you use it)

What I have learnt is that I'll be training two people simultaneously, one of which is a woman with a Masters Degree in something complicated. Me thinks she's a little over qualified, but perhaps the job situation in Malta forces people to take what they can get. I'll be staying in a flat (currently being organised) and there is a good chance my boss will be coming over with me for the first day, so I won't be alone to begin with.

It's sort of a weight off my mind. I'll probably create a whole new list of things to worry about, but at least the uncertainty is over. It's still three weeks where I'll have less contact with Sarah, and I don't like that, but I'll organise something for as soon as I'm back. We talked about having a week in Wales, perhaps in a cottage, or holiday park.

So there you have it people. Apparently it's always hot, they all speak English and they drive on the left hand side of the road. They are proud of their Maltese Cross and surprisingly....

....they don't go around eating small, round chocolate covered honeycomb sweets.

Dream Train Travel and a Missed Breakfast

I haven't filled you in about my little jaunt to Ireland have I? Well except for the lost underwear on the way home, and the fact Tara reached 30 while I was there.

First, the dream train travel. I was flying over from Gatwick, so I got the train from Southampton at about 10am on New Year's Day. I had to change at a little place called Fratton, but I had no idea how far that was, or where it is. Turns out from Southampton, I actually travelled backwards, away from London towards Portsmouth, but hay ho, it was the right train.

Why was it dream travel? Both my trains ran perfectly to time, and being a bank holiday, they were both deserted. It was pure bliss. No noise, no hassle, no trouble. The few travellers I came across all seemed hung-over from the previous night's festivities. There were one or two girls who were still dressed up for the night, carrying their high-heeled shoes - obviously didn't make it home the night before :)

Got to Gatwick, took off, landed in Shannon and was met my Tara's husband. While at the airport I used the cash point and realised the credit crunch was finally hitting me. The Euro to Sterling exchange rate had dropped below 1 to 1. Last time I visited Tara it was about 1.5 to 1, a huge difference.

What can I say about the party. It was lovely to meet some of Tara and David's family. They all made me feel so welcome. Far too much alcohol flowed, and some extremely dubious dancing occured, but isn't that what parties are all about? At one point Tara brought her work mates into the lounge where I was sat. I thought I was going to be introduced to them but instead she turned to her friends and said:

"and this is Geoff, you know the one I told you about."

What can I make of that? They looked me up and down, smiled and returned to the kitchen. Don't know whether to feel paranoid or flattered!

Think I left about 3am with two other people because we were all staying in the same hotel and it made sense to share a cab. We could of walked, but it was along a major road, in the dark, with no pavement. Not a good idea in our state.

We got back to the hotel and natuarally, given the time, it was locked. We banged. We rang. We shouted. Nothing. 3 in the morning and there are three drunk men shouting their heads off outside a hotel in the middle of Shannon. Eventually the night porter heard our pleas to be let in and we went to bed.

Now, I'm staying in an expensive hotel, and it includes breakfast, so I vowed to get my money's worth. It was served right up until 11am, so no excuse. Why oh why then did I decide it was ok to nod back off to sleep when I woke up at about 9am? I missed breakfast, and if it wasn't for the cleaner coming in whilst I was spralled across my bed I'd probably still be lying there now.

I had to make do with a MacDonald's meal for elevenses. Big Mac meal for 8 Euros! (which now equates to 8 quid) No wonder people are feeling the pinch in Ireland.

...and that about sums up my trip. Lovely time with Tara, so happy I could make it over. Safe and uneventful travel, you can't ask for more really.

Warning, Adult Content. Parental Advisory.

This story has a kinky end to it. People of a religious upbringing should skip passed this entry.

Picture the scene. I'm on the train back from Manchester to Southampton. At first I was worried it would be crowded because of the light aircraft crash in Stafford, but that was ok. What I did have to begin with was a train full of Notts Forest fans returning to the Midlands after thrashing Man City in the FA Cup.

No need to worry though, they were great fun, and had all disappeared by the time we left Birmingham. In fact the entire train has diassappeared except for a couple in the seats opposite mine and one girl right at the other end of the carriage. This tale involves the couple opposite...

Well, one seat foward of me on the opposite side if you want a full picture.

They got on at Birmingham International. Late 20's possibly a bit older. Both in waterproof coats with rucksacks and strange hippy wollen hats. How much protection can a wooly hat give you in the rain? They definately weren't brother/sister, but I didn't check for rings so no idea if they were married. With me so far?

The lady slipped into the window seat, the gentleman did all the honorable things. Took her rucksack and coat, put them on the overhead luggage rack. He took out some homemade cheese and pickle sandwiches for her and a Capri Sun orange drink (God I'm good at details!). When the train pulled out of Oxford, he started to pack up, obviously they were getting off at the next stop....

...At this moment he stretched up to bring down their rucksacks and a black glove fell out of his pocket. It landed right where his feet had been. Now normally I would have mentioned it, but I had my earphones in, and they weren't going anywhere for at least 10 minutes, so I left it, in the vain hope he'd spot it himself. When he sat down again he put his foot right on top of the glove!

We approached the next station (think it was Leamington Spa), and they both stood up, picked up their rucksacks and walked passed me to the exit of the carriage. I lent forward, stretched down to where he had been sat, and picked up the black glove, let it unfold in my hand and turned to get his attention....

In the split second of me turning round and the glove unfolding, with me holding it out in front of me in the aisle, I realised it wasn't a black glove..... it was a woman's cotton thong. Quite a sexy one too :o)

So go on, what would you do? You are now holding a pair of sexy black knickers. You've got a few choices:

1. Alert the bloke with "Excuse me, you've dropped this." You then find out it doesn't belong to his partner, a fight ensues between the two of them and there is blood shed.

2. Same as above but it DOES belong to his partner. She's now so embarrased a fight ensues between them and there is blood shed.

3. Say nothing, but be left holding a set of ladies underwear.

4. Say something, but he denies they are anything to do with him, and you're left feeling red in the face and still clutching the knickers.

Ok, made your mind up? I chose option 3, but it doesn't end there....

As my brain decided to kill the situation I turned back round and scrunched up the underwear. The girl at the far end of the carriage was leaning into the aisle, watching the whole affair! I swear I saw her giggle. So what became of the knickers I hear you ask?

Well my first reaction was to shove them in my coat pocket to dump in a bin at Southampton station. Trouble is, stations don't have bins now (because of terrorist threats) so they were still in my pocket when I got back to my flat....

....They are in the kitchen bin now :o)

Milestones

Just witnessed a few milestones, thought I'd share them with you all.

1. I think I've just flown out of Gatwick for the first time. I was searching my brain for another occasion when I've used Gatwick, but everything I came up with involved Heathrow or London City. If anyone does know an occasion when I've been through Gatwick, please feel free to remind me :o)

2. I witnessed the Euro overtake sterling whilst in a Euro country. Ireland is an expensive country at the best of times, but when the exchange rate dipped below 1 to 1 it became far worse. 8 Euros for a Big Mac meal! What's that all about?!?

3. Tara turned 30. Ok, not a milestone in my life, but I was there to witness this monumental occasion, so it feels like it was part of my life too. I wasn't able to celebrate my own 30th at all (I worked 20 of the 24 hours of June 2nd 2004) so it was nice to celebrate someone elses in style. I'll write more about the trip when I'm in work tomorrow...

4. ...Which leads me to my final milestone. I'm writing this blog from my flat! I got a decent 2nd hand laptop off my parents for Christmas, so I can write my novel more frequently, but I treated myself to an O2 dongle so I have pay as you go internet access too! Also means I can play late night Scrabble and chat to friends even on my days off....

...until they get sick of me :o)