General Update

It's one of those entries you all adore - a general update of the state of my life and the ongoing stories that run through this blog.

I'll begin with the Magnificent Octopus. I set myself a challenge last week to get 50 pages written within 7 days. Naturally I failed but I did manage about 20, which is more than I usually get typed up in a short session. Feels like I'm about halfway through the story, and I still haven't padded it out with red-herrings, side plots, background stories etc, so it's moving along nicely. I'm about to introduce a character called Simon Golding too, which satisfies two of the names I still needed to add :)

Malta. We're exactly 4 weeks from lift-off. My Southampton landlord knows I'm leaving (in fact his wife was almost in tears on the phone when I told her). TV licence people know, electricity direct debit is cancelled, change of addresses have been sent off. All that's left is to pack my life into as few boxes as possible, tidy the flat, throw out as much rubbish as I can and get the front door key copied (remember back to a previous blog about my other key being in the back of a cab somewhere).

That's the factual stuff about Malta. The emotional side still isn't settled. Really feels like I'm on an airport travelator, and I don't have the option to get off and turn back. I can walk backwards to slow the process down, but I'm still being carried forward. Good news is my own flat might be sorted already, so I can settle quite quickly after landing on the island.

Social calendar. It's drawing to a close, which puts even more pressure on me to get ready for Malta. I still have a quick visit to Manchester for a race meeting and to see Scrabble buddy again. I've got my fingers crossed for a mini SMTA reunion (that will be reunion III if it happens) in Norwich in mid August, but there is nothing else. That is it before I leave the UK...

...but then I hope to be arranging people visiting me in the land of the Maltesers :)

Reunion Part II

Ah, the second reunion. Just over 30 of the quiz participants had said they would be making the trip down to Brighton to stay in an old converted Rectory....

...only about a dozen of us turned up.

(I'll start the main part of this blog by stating that the house was gorgeous, and David, the host and his girlfriend did us all proud. Not sure he'll ever read this, but I could thank you both a thousand times for what you did for us, and it still wouldn't be enough.)

Ok, so only 12 or so of us turned up. Did that make it a disaster? Far from it. By having only a small band of people, we all got on so well as a group. Drinking games out in a marquee, barrels of laughter, so many side-splitting comments from everyone. It really felt like we were all part of a family. No one was made to feel isolated, no one was left out in the cold - it couldn't have been more special.

On the Saturday we took a school outing to Brighton and spent the afternoon on and around the pier. The sun was scorching, so once again I ended up with a face that matched the toffee apples. When we finally dragged ourselves away and headed home, we had a few more quizzers in tow, and it was back to the marquee for nibbles, drinks and more merriment.

On the Sunday, I got a lift to the station, but I couldn't face going home straight away, so I caught the train from the local station to Brighton and walked back to the pier - alone. I stayed there for several hours. Had a drink in one of the bars to shelter for the rain and even sang Kareoke (They wouldn't let me sing Living Next Door to Alice because the doors were open and the audience might swear too loudly, so I sang Chantilly Lace instead).

When I finally got back to the station I managed to catch my train by the skin of my teeth, but when it came to changing at Fratton (an area of Portsmouth) I missed my connection by seconds. I managed to touch it as it pulled slowly away from the platform. One hour to wait for the next one, so I decided to see what delights Fratton has to offer a single man on a Sunday night....

...nothing. It's a dump. Please make every effort you can to avoid this area.

p.s. Colin and Sarah (from Reunion Part I) didn't make it to this meeting. 24 hours after I left them I got a phone call from Sarah saying they had split up! I wish to point out that this had nothing whatsoever to do with my visit...

..I hope.

Reunion Part 1 (Part II)

Does the title make sense? I mean it's the follow-up to the first blog about the first of two reunions. Even I'm confused.

Met up with Colin and Sarah in a small town near Maidstone. It was so lovely to see them both and meet Sarh's little two-year old Charlie. We started the day off quite sedately at a car-boot sale. Great chance for me to pick up some cheap DVDs just in time for my trip to Malta.

The weekend was beautiful. Colin's rehab after his operation meant we didn't do much, but we didn't need to. A few drinks, some lovely food, beautiful company. I even bonded with the cat, Owen, which finally restored my faith in the feline species.

The journey home was a little sad. A long set of train journeys to get back to Southampton, but I knew I was due to see them both at the next reunion, only 7 days away....

...but things are not always as straightforward as they should be...

Blimey!, A Quarter of a Millennium!

Normally, when I reach a landmark blog post I'd bore you to sleep with non-interesting facts about the number. I'm going to save you the job of skipping past. There will be no boring Mathematical statements, no stupid references to sports facts or film trivia.

Just wishing my blog a happy birthday, and here's to the next quarter millennium.

Reunion Part I

It's late on Friday, I'm sat in the office, but technically I've finished work...

...The weekend starts here!

and what a weekend it should be. I'm off to Maidstone to meet up with two people I became good friends with from the Wembley quiz show recording. It's still a shame it looks like it's been canned, but nothing can replace the new chums I've made.

The original plan was for a weekend of debauchery and naughtiness, but Colin, one of the two friends, has recently had a serious operation. Sounds like he's well on the way to recovery, but anything more than dunking a Pringle into a sour cream dip is going to be a strain for him. It won't stop the three of us having a great time. I'll post again when I get back and let you know what we got up to.

The reason the post is called 'Reunion Part I' is the following weekend is a full quiz show get-together. 35 of us to be precise heading down to a village just outside Brighton. That one could get very messy, but it'll be nice to blow the cobwebs away with people I like.

In between the two, I have to phone the landlord. No more putting it off. I'm just dreading the fact he might want to come round straight away to check what needs fixing, replacing etc. The flat looks like a World War II doodlebug landed in the living room.

The big boss was over from Germany for the last couple of days too. I was expecting to have my ear chewed off, but surprisingly I seem to have his support at the moment. Makes a change. That's not to say he didn't have a few choice words to say about the rest of the staff, but I got away with a back handed compliment. Oh well, talk to you again after the weekend...

...assuming I survive :)

Definition of an Eejit Part XII

Only a short one this time, but another case of proving I am a thoroughbred airhead.

I'm a bloke. I admit it. Washing up waits until I am forced to eat baked beans straight from the can. Vacuuming is only necessary when enough dust has collected to completely blanket the floor. Laundry is only necessary when you're resorting to wearing pyjama tops as an alternative shirt.

(ok, those are all made up, but you get my point)

...but it is true I tend to do all my laundry in one go. three or four loads once every two weeks just about serves me. My next washing session was long overdue so I knuckled down and got it done.

First load. Boxer shorts, two pairs of jeans and a shirt
Second load. More shirts, t-shirts and a towel.
Third load. Rest of the towels and a shirt I'd missed.

Excellent, now I have lovely clean clothes, fresh towels and I'm set for another fortnight...

...until the next day when I was getting ready for work in a hurry and realised my fatal mistake. No socks. All of them were sitting in the laundry basket in the bathroom, festering. (I only use the basket for socks now). I was forced to go to work sockless, bare feet inside my trainers. To make matters worse it had been raining and my right trainer has a small crack in the sole which lets in water whenever I step in a puddle.

It's not a wholey unpleasent experience being naked inside your shoes, but not one I want to repeat in a hurry...

...until perhaps I dare to wear sandals.

It's a Date

Ok, I've set the ball rolling. I've come up with an official date for moving to Malta, and told my boss to get my flight booked.

Tuesday 25th August.

What this means in real terms is I can now set a calander of things that need to be taken care of before I move. Top priority is getting the flat straight (it's a disgrace) and telling the landlord I'm going. I have a weekend away in three days so as soon as I come back, I'll give him a call.

I also need to get a police report and track down my original birth certificate. Bit annoyed about this one really. I agreed to move to Malta a long time ago, and had to get a police report for the quiz show. Now he tells me I need one for working in Malta. If only I'd been told when I first agreed to move I could have saved myself a lot of hassle. Price of the certificate has gone up by an extra three pounds too. Grr

On a personal note, and this one can probably wait until August, I need to buy a whole new set of clothes and at least one pair of sandals. Last time I wore sandals I was probably six years old and small enough to fit in your pocket. I'll need a few pairs of shorts too, but I can guarentee they will be the combat style ones that come below the knee and cover as much of my strange legs as possible.

Then it's a case of being ruthless with my things and throwing out anything that is just gathering dust. It's amazing how much stuff I made the effort to bring from the Isle of Man to Southampton, but have still not been used. Anything that hasn't seen the light of day since I came to the south coast is going in the bin - and that will include a lot of clothes (although old jumpers and t-shirts do make good packing material, so they won't all disappear).

Had a bit of bad news about the move, but I was sort of expecting something like this to happen. When I originally agreed to move I was given a new salary. (quoted in Euros). This offer hasn't changed and it's still an attractive incentive (even though the pound is slowly getting stronger, making my new euro salary worth less and less). Sometime after the offer, the boss introduced a new policy wherin Sunday hours are paid double. I've been earning overtime for the past few months and it certainly helps a lot. When I move to Malta however, the double pay will stop. Not for everyone, just for me. I kind of knew he'd find someway of lowering my income, he often makes little comments about how much I get paid, but ther eis still a alrge cash benefit to moving, even without the overtime.

Think that's it for now. Time for people to start organising their Malta holidays to come and visit me....

...but let me find my own apartment first!

The Show Must Go On?

Only a quick entry for you, and possibly not a happy one.

I was recently invited to a 'think tank' concerning the quiz show I filmed. They wanted to get former contestants and traders back to throw ideas around, play a few mock up games (for real money) and see if they could improve the format for future series. I couldn't make it as I was in Manchester at the time, and travel expenses weren't covered but I've been updated through a friend as to what went on.

..and the sad news is, the shows I was involved in have either been put back to the Autumn schedule or scrapped altogether. The people from Sky like the format, but might want it to be once a week with a quarter million jackpot, rather than every day with £25,000 at stake. I still received my winnings, and I still had my travel and accomodation paid for, so it has been a profitable experience. I am also still in touch with many of the people involved, and we have a reunion in three weeks time...

...but it's still a disappointment.

Baking Heat, Buses and Breaking By-Laws

What a hectic, and off the wall 48 hours it's been. I can't tell you much about the first half, mainly to preserve someone else's privacy, but I can tell you all about the second day.

It began in baking heat, catching trains to get to Victoria station. Waiting on the platform for me was a tubby Jackie, her hair heading strangely towards blonde (although she claims it's the grey finally coming through). A quick drink in the pub opposite the station (called The Shakespeare if you happen to know London well), and then we nipped off to grab a mini picnic for lunch.

Victoria station has a quite spacious Marks and Spencer food hall, so posh sandwiches and crisps all round. A fresh fruit salad for Jackie, and two cans of Gin & Tonic for me. (yes, they do have Gordon's gin, ready mixed with Schweppes Tonic in a can now). We took them to a small area of grass opposite The Shakespeare. There is a good chance it's called Grosvenor Gardens (well that was then name of one of the roads that ran along side it). It was basically triangular in design, with busy roads on all three sides. A stones throw from the station, but once inside the fence the traffic noise becomes a background hum. Very tranquil considering.

We nibbled away on our tucker, putting the world to rights, discussed the merits of pigeons and how ugly the dog was sat opposite us, and I swigged readily at my can, feeling quite posh to be drinking a G&T. I also took pity on the flying vermin and threw my crusts to the hungry birds.

Jackie then spotted something behind us. A couple sat on the grass were approached by a uniformed police officer. After a brief discussion, he began writing a ticket and the girl of the pair packed away the bottle of wine they had been sharing. It seems it was illegal to drink in public. less than 10 yards away I was still clutching a half drunk can of Gordon's. Such a rebel (although I didn't feel like a rebel, I was petrified he'd already clocked me and I was next on his list of offenders).

Thankfully, after handing over the ticket he disappeared and I could continue my drink.

What followed was equally bizarre. A man in a tour guide uniform brought a group of people into the park and got them to form a circle around him. One by one they came into the circle to be questioned, and after a while smaller circles broke away with other tour operators asking questions. They were all clutching what looked like tourist maps and were frantically trying to memorise something. Eventually I asked one of the people in charge what was happening and got the response:

"It's for the tour company but I can't tell you exactly what. It's top secret I'm afraid". I still don't know what they were doing.

As we left to park to meet the two others who were coming to the concert with us we passed the 'rules and by-laws' board. In very small print there were a list of over 30 do's and don'ts, number 2 being 'Alcohol will not be consumed in this park'....

....number 3 was 'Do not feed the pigeons'.

p.s. The rest of the day would probably only interest you if you were a fan of The Cat Empire, and I'm guessing almost all of you reading this have no idea who they are. They are a group from Australia, who mix music styles from around the world to make very upbeat 'happy' songs and rely heavily on brass instruments for their sound. We caught a bus to the Shepherd's Bush Empire, myself and Jackie sat on the front row of the balcony, our two friends stood in 'the pit'. A late bus back to a flat in Maida Vale and the following morning a bus back to Victoria. Sadly, the last train, from Clapham to the South Coast was heaving. Even Jackie, 6 months pregnant, had to stand for a good proportion of the journey. The weather broke just as I arrived at Southampton too, putting an end to the two days of fun and frolics.