Three in a day? You don't deserve me, you really don't!
Forgot to tell you about my first venture into Maltese cuisine last night. I had been sat outside a bar, enjoying the passing sights when I decided to venture to the venue next door and have a meal. I had eaten there once before on my last visit, but didn't get any further than the pizza menu. This time I decided to try something I'd never tasted before....
...I plumped for Maltese Style rabbit.
A side note here. Rabbit is the national dish of Malta. I asked someone about it the first time I came over and it's simply for economic reasons. The weather and lack of space makes most cattle unfarmable but to breed rabbits for food, all you need is a hutch. Anyone with a small back yard can do it, and make a reasonable income. I've even seen adverts asking if you have a space that can be rented for the sole purpose of putting in a hutch.
..but they failed to mention that rabbit is not the most exciting of meats. Granted, there was nothing wrong with it, it flaked nicely off the bone, not too chewy, certainly not dry, but it was just another meat. I can't be the only one to think this, and that is why someone had the bright idea to make it more interesting....
Maltese Style rabbit was invented. The basis for the recipe is do whatever you can to disguise the meat. According to the menu it's cooked in a white wine sauce, then coated liberally with garlic and other powerfully flavoured herbs. Every bite you take you get a mouthful of the herb crust. Realy not unpleasent, but completely takes away any sense of what the meat tastes like, and I think that's the plan they had in mind all along. It was a very nice meal nontheless, and if it was offered to me again I wouldn't turn my nose up at it. It was interesting to see what a rabbit's carcass looks like too when I'd finished!....
....but if it's my own choice again next time, I think it'll be back to the pizza menu :)
August 28, 2009
Money! It's a Gas.
Two posts in one day, you lucky people!
Not a very exciting one I'm afraid, just a note to say how pleased I am with the 'pay as you go' Euro credit card I ordered just before I left the UK.
Ok, there was a bit of a problem topping it up at first, mainly due to HSBC being a bunch of dillweeds, but once the money was on the card I realised I got a decent exchange rate AND cash withdrawls have a miniscule fee - a lot less than if I use my normal bank card at an ATM.
I found this out on the first day. I withdrew some funds using the bank card and when I checked my online statement the next day, I saw the rate they had given me was a full 2 points below my Euro card rate. They also decided to charge me 3.50 for the withdrawl, depite it being a HSBC card in a HSBC machine.
So all in all I'm a happy camper when it comes to moving funds around. My biggest concern at the moment though is how I am going to pay my rent each month (and any other expenses that need to come out regularly). I can't see it being possible to set up the usual standing orders for transfers to Maltese companies...
...but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
p.s. I have a small red spot on my right forearm. It looks like a bite, but doesn't 'feel' like one. No itching. Perhaps it's just a funny looking zit.
p.p.s. Face going a nice crimson colour again. Legs, despite being on show everyday, are still pasty and spotty.
Not a very exciting one I'm afraid, just a note to say how pleased I am with the 'pay as you go' Euro credit card I ordered just before I left the UK.
Ok, there was a bit of a problem topping it up at first, mainly due to HSBC being a bunch of dillweeds, but once the money was on the card I realised I got a decent exchange rate AND cash withdrawls have a miniscule fee - a lot less than if I use my normal bank card at an ATM.
I found this out on the first day. I withdrew some funds using the bank card and when I checked my online statement the next day, I saw the rate they had given me was a full 2 points below my Euro card rate. They also decided to charge me 3.50 for the withdrawl, depite it being a HSBC card in a HSBC machine.
So all in all I'm a happy camper when it comes to moving funds around. My biggest concern at the moment though is how I am going to pay my rent each month (and any other expenses that need to come out regularly). I can't see it being possible to set up the usual standing orders for transfers to Maltese companies...
...but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
p.s. I have a small red spot on my right forearm. It looks like a bite, but doesn't 'feel' like one. No itching. Perhaps it's just a funny looking zit.
p.p.s. Face going a nice crimson colour again. Legs, despite being on show everyday, are still pasty and spotty.
Sleep? So What's That Then?
First three nights in Malta are behind me - and I think I've slept a total of three hours...
...and that was last night because I decided to sleep on the sofa instead of the bed.
I knew it'd be hard. I knew I wasn't cut out for prolonged hot weather, but the first night I attempted to go to bed I lay there covered in sweat. Not just a small damp patch, it was an Olympic sized pool of water. No one can sleep in those conditions. The problem you see is that the lounge area is air-conditioned, as is the main bedroom, but I'm in the 'spare' room and the only way to get colder air in there is to sleep with the back door open. Even with that propped ajar there was no breeze to cause a cooling draft.
The second night was no better, but by now I was walking dead. My whole body ached for rest, my eyes permenantly closed. Thankfully with tinted glasses, no one could see I was moving around like a zombie. By the third night I'd had enough so I slept on the sofa with the air-con turned down to 24 degrees. (the temperature without it in the flat was 31, even past midnight). I managed a few hours, it was only the discomfort of the sofa itself that kept rousing me.
And as for work and other things away from the flat? Work is work. I'm still fighting a daily battle with the boss. He never stops. Now he has taken the duty of creating the work rota off me because he wasn't happy with some of the shifts I had alocated. Naturally the rest of the staff were fuming with this, but will they say that to his face? of course not. So I get the earache from them and he lives in ignorant bliss thinking everyone is happy.
I've received an email off him this morning. He's currently in Southampton sorting out the closure of the old office and he met up with the landlord of 'our' flat. The deposit on the flat was paid completely by him, so I had no issues with that, but they agreed between them there was damage in the kitchen and shook on a deal to accept 100 pounds less. He now expects me to pay him the 100 pounds and wants it next week when he gets here. Can you see how infuriating it is being around him? (He forgot to mention the new bread-bin, iron, ironing board, kettle, toaster and cutelry I left behind free of charge). Whilst I was there I sold two of the monitors for 50 pounds and spent it on leaving drinks for the two members of staff that were left there (besides me). He wants that money back too.
So that's it. I should be going to view my own apartment tonight all being well. Other than that it's been get up, bus, work, bus, few drinks, eat, try to sleep, drink several litres of water, get up....
...indefinitely.
...and that was last night because I decided to sleep on the sofa instead of the bed.
I knew it'd be hard. I knew I wasn't cut out for prolonged hot weather, but the first night I attempted to go to bed I lay there covered in sweat. Not just a small damp patch, it was an Olympic sized pool of water. No one can sleep in those conditions. The problem you see is that the lounge area is air-conditioned, as is the main bedroom, but I'm in the 'spare' room and the only way to get colder air in there is to sleep with the back door open. Even with that propped ajar there was no breeze to cause a cooling draft.
The second night was no better, but by now I was walking dead. My whole body ached for rest, my eyes permenantly closed. Thankfully with tinted glasses, no one could see I was moving around like a zombie. By the third night I'd had enough so I slept on the sofa with the air-con turned down to 24 degrees. (the temperature without it in the flat was 31, even past midnight). I managed a few hours, it was only the discomfort of the sofa itself that kept rousing me.
And as for work and other things away from the flat? Work is work. I'm still fighting a daily battle with the boss. He never stops. Now he has taken the duty of creating the work rota off me because he wasn't happy with some of the shifts I had alocated. Naturally the rest of the staff were fuming with this, but will they say that to his face? of course not. So I get the earache from them and he lives in ignorant bliss thinking everyone is happy.
I've received an email off him this morning. He's currently in Southampton sorting out the closure of the old office and he met up with the landlord of 'our' flat. The deposit on the flat was paid completely by him, so I had no issues with that, but they agreed between them there was damage in the kitchen and shook on a deal to accept 100 pounds less. He now expects me to pay him the 100 pounds and wants it next week when he gets here. Can you see how infuriating it is being around him? (He forgot to mention the new bread-bin, iron, ironing board, kettle, toaster and cutelry I left behind free of charge). Whilst I was there I sold two of the monitors for 50 pounds and spent it on leaving drinks for the two members of staff that were left there (besides me). He wants that money back too.
So that's it. I should be going to view my own apartment tonight all being well. Other than that it's been get up, bus, work, bus, few drinks, eat, try to sleep, drink several litres of water, get up....
...indefinitely.
August 26, 2009
The Eagle Has Landed
Yes, it's finally happened. I've arrived in Malta, along with Bob the fluffy duck.
Have you ever tried putting your life into a suitcase and a few boxes? Not easy with the amount of junk I've accumilated over the years. But I"m ahead of myself here, before I packed I had the chance to meet up with a very old friend in Manchester City Centre for a few drinks.
When I say old, I don't mean grey haired and carrying a bus-pass, I mean old as in we've been friends for eons. Back to school days really, although Simon was a couple of years below me, I still knew him back then, and his elder sister. We met up near Deansgate station and moved around to a few watering-holes, enjoying the pleasent evening warmth and jogging each others memories of times gone by. We used to work in a bingo hall together, but it seems his memory of those days are infinitly better than mine! We eneded the evening in a seedy looking bar near Oxford Road station (in reality the Salisbury Arms is a lovely pub, it's just the impression you get when you view it from the outside). It was here that we got onto the subject of mathematics (don't ask me how) and by the end of the evening we'd re-written the book on probability. A great night.
...and then there was a family party at my cousin's house. A sort of 'bon voyage' for me and a 'congratulations' for my cousing for some recent good news. This time the weather wasn't so kind and it became a case of darting in and out of a make-shift gazebo every few minutes as the clouds kept bursting. It was nice to see everyone though before I headed off to pastures new.
Which brings us onto the packing and travel. Packing is stressful enough, but trying to fit your entire life into a small space is a Herculean task. I think I've managed it. We'll see when I get the boxes ferried over and I discover I've forgotton something vital. For the time being I'll be living out of a suitcase, so I hope I brought enough boxer-shorts!
The flight over was a red-eye from Manchester Airport. Easyjet maybe a no-frills airline, but I have absolutely no complaints about the journey at all. Took off on time, landed 10 minutes early and I had an empty seat next to me. Plenty of leg-room (more than Air Malta I think) and a plentiful supply of refreshments (albeit at a price). As I stepped off the plane I was hit by the wave of warm air. It hasn't stopped since. I'm currently typing this in the air-conditioned office, but I know that outside it's already tipping 100 degrees and cracking the flagstones.
I didn't sleep a wink last night. The extra room I'm in doesn't have air-con, but sleeping with the door open isn't an option because of the noise outside. It's likely to encourage insects in too, which I have no intention of doing! I was bathed in sweat from head to toe, it was literally dripping off me. Thank god I got my head shaved before I came out here!
I met up with the other lad that came over from Southampton for a quick drink during the day, and this morning I've been reunited with the other two members of staff I'll be working with on a daily basis....
..it's like I've never been away :)
Have you ever tried putting your life into a suitcase and a few boxes? Not easy with the amount of junk I've accumilated over the years. But I"m ahead of myself here, before I packed I had the chance to meet up with a very old friend in Manchester City Centre for a few drinks.
When I say old, I don't mean grey haired and carrying a bus-pass, I mean old as in we've been friends for eons. Back to school days really, although Simon was a couple of years below me, I still knew him back then, and his elder sister. We met up near Deansgate station and moved around to a few watering-holes, enjoying the pleasent evening warmth and jogging each others memories of times gone by. We used to work in a bingo hall together, but it seems his memory of those days are infinitly better than mine! We eneded the evening in a seedy looking bar near Oxford Road station (in reality the Salisbury Arms is a lovely pub, it's just the impression you get when you view it from the outside). It was here that we got onto the subject of mathematics (don't ask me how) and by the end of the evening we'd re-written the book on probability. A great night.
...and then there was a family party at my cousin's house. A sort of 'bon voyage' for me and a 'congratulations' for my cousing for some recent good news. This time the weather wasn't so kind and it became a case of darting in and out of a make-shift gazebo every few minutes as the clouds kept bursting. It was nice to see everyone though before I headed off to pastures new.
Which brings us onto the packing and travel. Packing is stressful enough, but trying to fit your entire life into a small space is a Herculean task. I think I've managed it. We'll see when I get the boxes ferried over and I discover I've forgotton something vital. For the time being I'll be living out of a suitcase, so I hope I brought enough boxer-shorts!
The flight over was a red-eye from Manchester Airport. Easyjet maybe a no-frills airline, but I have absolutely no complaints about the journey at all. Took off on time, landed 10 minutes early and I had an empty seat next to me. Plenty of leg-room (more than Air Malta I think) and a plentiful supply of refreshments (albeit at a price). As I stepped off the plane I was hit by the wave of warm air. It hasn't stopped since. I'm currently typing this in the air-conditioned office, but I know that outside it's already tipping 100 degrees and cracking the flagstones.
I didn't sleep a wink last night. The extra room I'm in doesn't have air-con, but sleeping with the door open isn't an option because of the noise outside. It's likely to encourage insects in too, which I have no intention of doing! I was bathed in sweat from head to toe, it was literally dripping off me. Thank god I got my head shaved before I came out here!
I met up with the other lad that came over from Southampton for a quick drink during the day, and this morning I've been reunited with the other two members of staff I'll be working with on a daily basis....
..it's like I've never been away :)
August 21, 2009
And Now, The End is Near...
On the walk to work this morning (the last time I'll be making that 15 minute journey in that direction incidently) I was contemplating all the things I've done (or about to do) 'for the last time...'
I've played my last pub quiz machine.
I've eaten my last Weatherspoons Farmhouse Breakfast.
Opened the door to Canute Chambers.
Waited on Platform 4 of Southampton Central Station.
Caught the bus to the airport.
Ordered a Dominos pizza.
Posted a DVD back to Lovefim at 6 o'clock in the morning.
Gone into the High Street Co-op to rummage through the 'reduced price' shelf for a bargain.
Ridden on a London Underground train.
Watched repeats of old sitcoms on UK Gold whilst sitting in work.
Gone to a cricket game at The Rosebowl, or a football game at St. Marys.
Walked along the dual-carriage way.
...and probably millions more.
I've played my last pub quiz machine.
I've eaten my last Weatherspoons Farmhouse Breakfast.
Opened the door to Canute Chambers.
Waited on Platform 4 of Southampton Central Station.
Caught the bus to the airport.
Ordered a Dominos pizza.
Posted a DVD back to Lovefim at 6 o'clock in the morning.
Gone into the High Street Co-op to rummage through the 'reduced price' shelf for a bargain.
Ridden on a London Underground train.
Watched repeats of old sitcoms on UK Gold whilst sitting in work.
Gone to a cricket game at The Rosebowl, or a football game at St. Marys.
Walked along the dual-carriage way.
...and probably millions more.
August 16, 2009
Bob the Fluffy Duck on Tour - Part II
Bob has been on his travels again - This time to Norwich and Great Yarmouth.
I was off for another reunion with a friend from the quiz show. Anthony this time, who had also been at the Brighton meeting a few weeks before. I didn't really need much of an excuse though, going to Norfolk is never a chore for me, it's still my favourite part of the British Isles.
The trip over was long - 5 trains long to be exact, but everything ran smoothly with Ant waiting to meet me at Norwich station. We met up with a couple of his American Football friends that night and had a few drinks. Well, 'few' is a bit of an understatement, particularly as Ant finished drinking a yard of lager to round off his evening.
Side note here. If you ever met Ant, the last sport you'd think he played would be American Football. He's not exactly built like a Gridiron player, but by all accounts he's very good at it. The bruises all over his arms confirm the rumours too :)
The next day, with Ant nursing a slightly sore head, we made our way to Great Yarmouth. Two reunions, two different seaside towns. It was lovely weather thankfully and there was a round of crazy golf thrown in. For the record I won by three strokes.
Another side note here. Hole 2. A fairly straightforward affair, straight line to the pin, but with an uneven playing surface inbetween. The fairway also narrows halfway down, flanked by two imitation stone pillars. My opening shot was a gentle putt down the centre, finishing a foot or so from the target, and a simple tap in for a score of 2. Ant's opening shot? It was as though he'd taken a 3-wood out of his bag. He drove the ball like he was Tiger Woods at St Andrews. If it hadn't been for one of the pillars getting in the way the ball would be halfway across the promenade by now. It ricocheted off the first column, onto the second column, back to the first column, then fell straight onto the fairway. The slight slope and camber of the surface made the ball trickle slowly towards the hole, and down it went. The most dramatic hole in one I have ever witnessed.
Next day we walked into Norwich city centre for a few drinks and a bit of shopping. We met up with one of his current flat mates and his future one. A nice bunch of people all round. Talking of walking though, I think I've racked up over 7 miles in just three days. (ok, that's not a lot ofr some people, but it is for me) My blisters are back and ready to burst, not forgetting the sharp stabbing pains in my shins. All good excerise I suppose :)
Walking back to the flat on the penultimate night, we came around a big sweeping corner just as a car came flying towards us. A typical boy racer, probably showing off to his girlfriend. As just a side comment I turned to Ant and said:
'I bet he hits something, driving like that'.
As the car passed by us, around the bend there was a screech of brakes, the sound of a car crossing onto the pavement, and the heavy crunch of a collision. We ran back to see what had happened, and it was no surprise to see the car at a slight angle, just ahead of a desimated fence. He drove off, not to escape, just to move the car off the road and the ear-piercing scream of a wheel rim scratching the tarmac echoed out. It was closely followed by a tyre bouncing across the road. Never a dull moment in Norwich!
On the Sunday morning Ant left me to go to a Football game, so I walked myself to the train station. I gave myself nearly an hour to get there, but it was only just enough. It was 3 long miles away!
A great trip, a great friend, but now there are no more before Malta...
...oh, and of course, Bob came too.
p.s. I've since looked up the distance to the station. 2.2 miles. I feel bad now for thinking it was over 3 :(
I was off for another reunion with a friend from the quiz show. Anthony this time, who had also been at the Brighton meeting a few weeks before. I didn't really need much of an excuse though, going to Norfolk is never a chore for me, it's still my favourite part of the British Isles.
The trip over was long - 5 trains long to be exact, but everything ran smoothly with Ant waiting to meet me at Norwich station. We met up with a couple of his American Football friends that night and had a few drinks. Well, 'few' is a bit of an understatement, particularly as Ant finished drinking a yard of lager to round off his evening.
Side note here. If you ever met Ant, the last sport you'd think he played would be American Football. He's not exactly built like a Gridiron player, but by all accounts he's very good at it. The bruises all over his arms confirm the rumours too :)
The next day, with Ant nursing a slightly sore head, we made our way to Great Yarmouth. Two reunions, two different seaside towns. It was lovely weather thankfully and there was a round of crazy golf thrown in. For the record I won by three strokes.
Another side note here. Hole 2. A fairly straightforward affair, straight line to the pin, but with an uneven playing surface inbetween. The fairway also narrows halfway down, flanked by two imitation stone pillars. My opening shot was a gentle putt down the centre, finishing a foot or so from the target, and a simple tap in for a score of 2. Ant's opening shot? It was as though he'd taken a 3-wood out of his bag. He drove the ball like he was Tiger Woods at St Andrews. If it hadn't been for one of the pillars getting in the way the ball would be halfway across the promenade by now. It ricocheted off the first column, onto the second column, back to the first column, then fell straight onto the fairway. The slight slope and camber of the surface made the ball trickle slowly towards the hole, and down it went. The most dramatic hole in one I have ever witnessed.
Next day we walked into Norwich city centre for a few drinks and a bit of shopping. We met up with one of his current flat mates and his future one. A nice bunch of people all round. Talking of walking though, I think I've racked up over 7 miles in just three days. (ok, that's not a lot ofr some people, but it is for me) My blisters are back and ready to burst, not forgetting the sharp stabbing pains in my shins. All good excerise I suppose :)
Walking back to the flat on the penultimate night, we came around a big sweeping corner just as a car came flying towards us. A typical boy racer, probably showing off to his girlfriend. As just a side comment I turned to Ant and said:
'I bet he hits something, driving like that'.
As the car passed by us, around the bend there was a screech of brakes, the sound of a car crossing onto the pavement, and the heavy crunch of a collision. We ran back to see what had happened, and it was no surprise to see the car at a slight angle, just ahead of a desimated fence. He drove off, not to escape, just to move the car off the road and the ear-piercing scream of a wheel rim scratching the tarmac echoed out. It was closely followed by a tyre bouncing across the road. Never a dull moment in Norwich!
On the Sunday morning Ant left me to go to a Football game, so I walked myself to the train station. I gave myself nearly an hour to get there, but it was only just enough. It was 3 long miles away!
A great trip, a great friend, but now there are no more before Malta...
...oh, and of course, Bob came too.
p.s. I've since looked up the distance to the station. 2.2 miles. I feel bad now for thinking it was over 3 :(
August 09, 2009
Sandie Shaw, Zola Budd, Joss Stone and Geoff Gibson
Which is the odd one out? Well Sandie, Zola and Joss all famously perform in their respective fields barefooted. Geoff Gibson? Well he walked home from work last night carrying his trainers and it wasn't an unpleasent experience!
I suppose you need the full story. Yesterday I was in work from 2pm until late, and as I looked out of the window before setting off I could see Southampton was enjoying another balmy afternoon. Not the kind of day to be wearing heavy jeans and a coat. It was a perfect opportunity to give my legs an airing for the first time since 1980 in one of the pairs of 3/4 shorts I bought recently. I don't own any of those tiny sports socks, so I wore my new trainers sockless.
If it wasn't for the fact my legs were as white as a glacier and still spotted with mosquito bite scars, the overall outfit wasn't too abysmal. (If you want the full picture I had a thin navy polo shirt on too). As I set off, my transition lenses went jet black and I looked to all the world like a bona fide sun worshipper. (Well, again, ignoring the pasty, spotty legs)
Ok, so I got to work, and there was a tiny blister developing at the back of both heels. Really nothing painful (I had already worn the shoes all day at Haydock, so it wasn't like they needed breaking in), but enough for me to kick my trainers off as soon as I was sat at my desk. Barefooted for 9 hours as I tapped away at my keyboard. The whole office and communal areas are all carpeted, the only place that isn't is the toilet which is a sort of laminate. All very pleseant for someone flashing their toes to the world.
When it came to going home, I put my trainers back on, but by now my feet had swollen slightly, and the blisters had hardened over. Every step was agony. I got no more than 100 yards down the road when I realised I wasn't going to make it this way...
...so I undid the zelcro, picked up my footwear, and started again.
It's Saturday night remember, prime drunk time, and Southampton had drawn with Millwall at home earlier on. Thankfully I hardly met anyone, but even if I had, I don't think I looked that strange. The pavement from work to home has all recently been repaved (remember those roadworks I complained about for months? Finally I've found a benefit for all the sleepless nights!)
The only times I flinched was when I crossed a road and had to walk on proper tarmac. Tarmac wasn't designed for barefeet. I also had issues with those pink-coloured bobbled tiles you get at pedestrian crossings to help blind people. I'm sure the occular disabled find them a boon, but I was grumbling about them under my breath on several occasions.
But I got home, no problems, no more rubbing on my blisters, ten minutes less wear & tear on my trainers...
...all in all a successful experiement for once.
I suppose you need the full story. Yesterday I was in work from 2pm until late, and as I looked out of the window before setting off I could see Southampton was enjoying another balmy afternoon. Not the kind of day to be wearing heavy jeans and a coat. It was a perfect opportunity to give my legs an airing for the first time since 1980 in one of the pairs of 3/4 shorts I bought recently. I don't own any of those tiny sports socks, so I wore my new trainers sockless.
If it wasn't for the fact my legs were as white as a glacier and still spotted with mosquito bite scars, the overall outfit wasn't too abysmal. (If you want the full picture I had a thin navy polo shirt on too). As I set off, my transition lenses went jet black and I looked to all the world like a bona fide sun worshipper. (Well, again, ignoring the pasty, spotty legs)
Ok, so I got to work, and there was a tiny blister developing at the back of both heels. Really nothing painful (I had already worn the shoes all day at Haydock, so it wasn't like they needed breaking in), but enough for me to kick my trainers off as soon as I was sat at my desk. Barefooted for 9 hours as I tapped away at my keyboard. The whole office and communal areas are all carpeted, the only place that isn't is the toilet which is a sort of laminate. All very pleseant for someone flashing their toes to the world.
When it came to going home, I put my trainers back on, but by now my feet had swollen slightly, and the blisters had hardened over. Every step was agony. I got no more than 100 yards down the road when I realised I wasn't going to make it this way...
...so I undid the zelcro, picked up my footwear, and started again.
It's Saturday night remember, prime drunk time, and Southampton had drawn with Millwall at home earlier on. Thankfully I hardly met anyone, but even if I had, I don't think I looked that strange. The pavement from work to home has all recently been repaved (remember those roadworks I complained about for months? Finally I've found a benefit for all the sleepless nights!)
The only times I flinched was when I crossed a road and had to walk on proper tarmac. Tarmac wasn't designed for barefeet. I also had issues with those pink-coloured bobbled tiles you get at pedestrian crossings to help blind people. I'm sure the occular disabled find them a boon, but I was grumbling about them under my breath on several occasions.
But I got home, no problems, no more rubbing on my blisters, ten minutes less wear & tear on my trainers...
...all in all a successful experiement for once.
August 08, 2009
Bob The Fluffy Duck on Tour
Can't believe it's a week since I last spoke to you. How have you all been? Keeping well? It's been quite a full 7 days for me.
It all really focuses around an overnight trip back up to Manchester for a race meeting with my Dad at Haydock. Glorious weather again (4 race meetings in a row now where I've burnt my face off). Difference this time is, it wasn't just the two of us....
...(well it wasn't anyway, we had a family friend with us too, but that's not what I meant)...
...We had Bob the Fluffy Duck with us.
Don't think I've introduced you to Bob have I? He's no relation to Bob the Triffid, despite the similar name, he's a fluffy duc
k I won on Brighton Pier during Reunion II (are you keeping up with all this, I know I lead a complicated life!). I suppose it's wrong for me to say I 'won' him. In actual fact he was a consolation prize for losing at hook-a-duck, but he's so cute he still semes like a victory prize to me.
I promised a few people at the reunion that I would take him wherever I go for the next few months, and I was true to my word as Bob rode on the train with me to Manchester, went shopping in Sainsbury's and then took a trip to Haydock to watch the horses.
Typically, Bob the Fluffy Duck got more winners than me, and as you can see from the piccy, the bookmaker was happy to pay him out. It was quite fun getitng other people involved int he pictures, and became quite a strange (but interesting) way to chat to women. Not sure that carrying a fluffy toy around to chat to girls is a good idea though....
....and next stop Norwich in less than a week :)
It all really focuses around an overnight trip back up to Manchester for a race meeting with my Dad at Haydock. Glorious weather again (4 race meetings in a row now where I've burnt my face off). Difference this time is, it wasn't just the two of us....
...(well it wasn't anyway, we had a family friend with us too, but that's not what I meant)...
...We had Bob the Fluffy Duck with us.
Don't think I've introduced you to Bob have I? He's no relation to Bob the Triffid, despite the similar name, he's a fluffy duc
k I won on Brighton Pier during Reunion II (are you keeping up with all this, I know I lead a complicated life!). I suppose it's wrong for me to say I 'won' him. In actual fact he was a consolation prize for losing at hook-a-duck, but he's so cute he still semes like a victory prize to me.I promised a few people at the reunion that I would take him wherever I go for the next few months, and I was true to my word as Bob rode on the train with me to Manchester, went shopping in Sainsbury's and then took a trip to Haydock to watch the horses.
Typically, Bob the Fluffy Duck got more winners than me, and as you can see from the piccy, the bookmaker was happy to pay him out. It was quite fun getitng other people involved int he pictures, and became quite a strange (but interesting) way to chat to women. Not sure that carrying a fluffy toy around to chat to girls is a good idea though....
....and next stop Norwich in less than a week :)
August 01, 2009
Three Weeks to Go. The Countdown is on.
Welcome to August. In exactly 21 days I leave Southampton for the last time and go up to Manchester for a few days. From there, it's on to sunny Malta. 3 Weeks. So much to do, so little time...
...and so little enthusiasm.
That's not that I don't have enthusiasm for other things. Looking forward to a very quick break in the North-West for a race meeting. The Norwich quiz reunion is now official (well my train ticket is booked, so it's official as far as I'm concerned) and I might even be able to organise a mini-work night out to 'celebrate' the Southampton office closing and me setting off.
But what do I have on my list of things to do? Buy luggage is one thing. Get some cardboard boxes to pack into (there are some in the office, but I just keep 'forgetting' to take them home). I need to get a key cut for the flat. No, correct that I need to find out where I can get a key cut first, then get a key cut for the flat. Then of course there is the process of getting the flat tidy. Despite it's small size that will be a major operation. I should change my middle name to Procrastination.
Reality bites. I'm still a bit numb really, taking each day as it comes, rather than knuckling down and getting on with it all. Still have last bills to sort out for the electricity and council tax (I think) ...
...and don't even get me started on my lack of love life!
...and so little enthusiasm.
That's not that I don't have enthusiasm for other things. Looking forward to a very quick break in the North-West for a race meeting. The Norwich quiz reunion is now official (well my train ticket is booked, so it's official as far as I'm concerned) and I might even be able to organise a mini-work night out to 'celebrate' the Southampton office closing and me setting off.
But what do I have on my list of things to do? Buy luggage is one thing. Get some cardboard boxes to pack into (there are some in the office, but I just keep 'forgetting' to take them home). I need to get a key cut for the flat. No, correct that I need to find out where I can get a key cut first, then get a key cut for the flat. Then of course there is the process of getting the flat tidy. Despite it's small size that will be a major operation. I should change my middle name to Procrastination.
Reality bites. I'm still a bit numb really, taking each day as it comes, rather than knuckling down and getting on with it all. Still have last bills to sort out for the electricity and council tax (I think) ...
...and don't even get me started on my lack of love life!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
