Finally, the details for my TV audition have come through.
It'll be in a posh hotel in the centre of Bristol, about 10 minutes walk from the train station. Thankfully I've already got my train tickets (cheaper to buy in advance) so it's good to know I can walk to the venue.
There will be a general knowledge quiz, followed by some team games and if I pass that bit I'll be invited to do a small piece to camera. This is all very reminisent of the audition I took part in for The Weakest Link. I have ot take some references with me, so hopefully I can enlist the help of a couple of old work mates to write something nice about me and get it sent over by e-mail.
I won't hear if I've been unsuccessful, but if it gets to the end of April and I've had no word, then I can assume the worst....
...oh and the show is called 'Sell Me The Answer' in case you were wondering.
February 26, 2009
Fake Aroma
A funny, aromatic, thing happened to me yesterday while I was walking through W.H.Smiths.
I had popped in to the store to see what type of folders they sold, for when I print off my Magnificent Octopus. As I stood at the appropriate shelf, browsing the various types of wallets and binders, a smell wafted into my nose.
Nothing unusual I suppose, but this aroma was so distinctive. It instantly reminded me of a close friend, so much so that I instinctively turned round to say hello and hug her. Of course, there was no one there. The smell was still lingering though, perhaps she had just walked behind me, so I went in search of the source.
But then I stopped. The chances this particular person was in England was slender enough, never mind being in Southampton. Even less likely would be the chance she walked down the same aisle of W.H.Smiths as me - I just couldn't get the sensation out of my head.
If you'd asked me to describe the person, the last thing I would have said is that she had a distinctive aroma. (I'll take this opportunity to point out it wasn't an unpleasant smell!) I also can't fully describe what the smell is. It's not a perfume or eau de toilette smell, it's not a food smell, it's not even a soap or make-up smell. Perhaps it's a combination of a few things.
They say we all have a double, (apparently mine is Peter Griffin from Family Guy) but it would seem we all have an aroma doppelganger too....
...For the record the smell only lasted a few seconds, but the lasting impression it left on me is still there now.
I had popped in to the store to see what type of folders they sold, for when I print off my Magnificent Octopus. As I stood at the appropriate shelf, browsing the various types of wallets and binders, a smell wafted into my nose.
Nothing unusual I suppose, but this aroma was so distinctive. It instantly reminded me of a close friend, so much so that I instinctively turned round to say hello and hug her. Of course, there was no one there. The smell was still lingering though, perhaps she had just walked behind me, so I went in search of the source.
But then I stopped. The chances this particular person was in England was slender enough, never mind being in Southampton. Even less likely would be the chance she walked down the same aisle of W.H.Smiths as me - I just couldn't get the sensation out of my head.
If you'd asked me to describe the person, the last thing I would have said is that she had a distinctive aroma. (I'll take this opportunity to point out it wasn't an unpleasant smell!) I also can't fully describe what the smell is. It's not a perfume or eau de toilette smell, it's not a food smell, it's not even a soap or make-up smell. Perhaps it's a combination of a few things.
They say we all have a double, (apparently mine is Peter Griffin from Family Guy) but it would seem we all have an aroma doppelganger too....
...For the record the smell only lasted a few seconds, but the lasting impression it left on me is still there now.
February 25, 2009
Off the Face of the Planet
Bet you all thought I'd dropped off the surface of the Earth didn't you? 9 days without a blog entry, possible a new record!
So what's been happening since my return from the land of the honeycombed chocolate? I spend a couple of days in Manchester before returning to Southampton. Surprisingly I don't have a single tale to tell about the train ride. No really, not a sausage. I came back to a barrage of emails detailing errors the rest of the team had made in my absence. A lovely start to the day.
So, I've held a staff meeting, chance for me to go through the mistakes. Seems no one could defend them, or offer any practical solutions, but at least they've been aired. We wait with baited breath to find out if things improve. I believe I mentioned a long time ago that errors only seem to occur when I'm out of the office.... looks like my theory has more weight behind it now.
My boss/flatmate left me a cryptic note to say he doesn't need the flat in Southampton anymore. That would be MY flat as well. No idea what he means, it could be I need to get a new flatmate, or I have to move out, but until he gives me more details I'm in limbo. As usual he is being evasive.
My DVD player in the flat is no longer operational. I'm now limited to using my laptop or my portable player if I want to watch a movie. I've not had much luck with hardware since I came down South.
I have a new mobile, which I'm still not fully used to, but at least it works. It keeps flashing to say the battery is low, even when it isn't, but other than that it seems fine. Camera is good quality too, so it should be ok for at least 12 months.
My stomach still isn't 100%, ever since being very ill in Malta. Almost everything I eat either causes stomach cramps or passes straight through me. Not the most pleasant experience.
I'm not going to Wales for a break now; seems Sarah can't afford it at the moment. Looks like we'll be splitting up soon too, but it's not as if we're really a couple anyway. We hardly speak, and if I try, she says she's too busy at the moment. Don't panic people, it won't send me into a spiral of depression this time, I never got a chance to get close to them both this time around. As it stands though we are still technically together, but I'll keep you posted.
It's about 3 days to payday and I'm skint again. Not bad for me though, usually I run out of funds about a fortnight into the month, so I should survive this time.
I've had no details sent to me about my TV audition. I was expecting it sometime around Monday. I'll give them another 24 hours, but if there is still no word I'll try to dig out the researchers number and give them a call. I wrote it on a receipt in my hotel room in Malta, but I do remember putting it into a bag when I packed to come home.
During my two days in Manchester I worked on my Magnificent Octopus, got it up to about 85 pages and sent a second draft to my chief proof-reader. I should be getting feed-back on it after the weekend.
Think that about sums up my life upto and including Pancake Day (for which I ate a total of zero pancakes).....
...I'll try not to let 9 days go past before I fill you all in again.
So what's been happening since my return from the land of the honeycombed chocolate? I spend a couple of days in Manchester before returning to Southampton. Surprisingly I don't have a single tale to tell about the train ride. No really, not a sausage. I came back to a barrage of emails detailing errors the rest of the team had made in my absence. A lovely start to the day.
So, I've held a staff meeting, chance for me to go through the mistakes. Seems no one could defend them, or offer any practical solutions, but at least they've been aired. We wait with baited breath to find out if things improve. I believe I mentioned a long time ago that errors only seem to occur when I'm out of the office.... looks like my theory has more weight behind it now.
My boss/flatmate left me a cryptic note to say he doesn't need the flat in Southampton anymore. That would be MY flat as well. No idea what he means, it could be I need to get a new flatmate, or I have to move out, but until he gives me more details I'm in limbo. As usual he is being evasive.
My DVD player in the flat is no longer operational. I'm now limited to using my laptop or my portable player if I want to watch a movie. I've not had much luck with hardware since I came down South.
I have a new mobile, which I'm still not fully used to, but at least it works. It keeps flashing to say the battery is low, even when it isn't, but other than that it seems fine. Camera is good quality too, so it should be ok for at least 12 months.
My stomach still isn't 100%, ever since being very ill in Malta. Almost everything I eat either causes stomach cramps or passes straight through me. Not the most pleasant experience.
I'm not going to Wales for a break now; seems Sarah can't afford it at the moment. Looks like we'll be splitting up soon too, but it's not as if we're really a couple anyway. We hardly speak, and if I try, she says she's too busy at the moment. Don't panic people, it won't send me into a spiral of depression this time, I never got a chance to get close to them both this time around. As it stands though we are still technically together, but I'll keep you posted.
It's about 3 days to payday and I'm skint again. Not bad for me though, usually I run out of funds about a fortnight into the month, so I should survive this time.
I've had no details sent to me about my TV audition. I was expecting it sometime around Monday. I'll give them another 24 hours, but if there is still no word I'll try to dig out the researchers number and give them a call. I wrote it on a receipt in my hotel room in Malta, but I do remember putting it into a bag when I packed to come home.
During my two days in Manchester I worked on my Magnificent Octopus, got it up to about 85 pages and sent a second draft to my chief proof-reader. I should be getting feed-back on it after the weekend.
Think that about sums up my life upto and including Pancake Day (for which I ate a total of zero pancakes).....
...I'll try not to let 9 days go past before I fill you all in again.
February 16, 2009
The Maltese Adventure: Rules of the Road
Thought I would pass on the rules of motoring for anyone who plans on hiring a car whilst on holiday here.
1. Parking. Parking bays across the island come in three official forms. White boxes are available for free to anyone, 24 hours a day. Yellow boxes are free to permit holders only. Green boxes are free to anyone, but have a time limit. A nearby sign will indicate the length of stay permitted.
In reality you can park where you like as long as you stick your hazard warning lights on. This can mean double parking, blocking a complete carriageway or road, on corners or pedestrian crossings etc. As long as it's convenient to you, just stop your engine, put on your flashing lights and leave it.
2. Road markings. At junctions there may be a solid white line in front of you and the word STOP. This is not to be taken literally. The correct procedure in Malta is to tear up to this line at break neck speed, hang the nose of your car so far out it blocks the traffic and then just keep going.
3. Horns. The horn of your car should be used liberally. Particularly in built up areas at unsociable times. If you find yourself caught up in a traffic jam (because someone has decided to block the road by parking with their hazard lights on), honking your horn continually is bound to make things move faster. No one in nearby hotels will mind.
4. Buses. Malta has an extremely cheap and efficient bus service. Despite the fact they all look like they were made in the 1940's buses run every 10 minutes and most journeys are about 50cents. Bus drivers however are the most reckless people on the road. If they wish to get somewhere they will, regardless of who is in their way.
5. Indicators. Indicators are only fitted to Maltese cars for the purpose of hazard lights (see point 1 above). Under no circumstances should you tell people if you are turning off the road, or which exit of a round-a-bout you are planning to take.
6. Swerving. If the car in front appears to be driving a little erratically, chances are he is not drunk. He is swerving to avoid the potholes in the road. Use this as a pre-warning that you will also need to make dramatic directional changes.
7. Petrol. In the UK petrol stations prefer payment by card, and are sometimes reluctant to handle large sums of cash due to potential robberies. In Malta, petrol stations have never heard of credit cards and will demand payment in cash.
8. Overtaking. Overtaking in Malta is permissable on either side of the vehicle in front. Even if there does not appear to be enough room to pass, you should still edge your nose down the side of his car in the hope of nudging him off the road. If all else fails you might nudge him into a pothole.
9. Pedestrians. Pedestrians in Malta are well catered for. They have an offical crossing every 100 metres, some of them zebra style, some pelican. Do not expect pedestrians to use them though, they will happily step out at anytime and expect you to test your brakes for them.
10. Directions. Many motorists will find themselves lost in Malta. If you arrive at a busy junction and don't know which way to turn, the correct procedure is simply to stop, put on your hand-brake and consult your map. The traffic building up behind will be happy to wait, although they might wish to say hello through the voice of their horn (see point 3)
1. Parking. Parking bays across the island come in three official forms. White boxes are available for free to anyone, 24 hours a day. Yellow boxes are free to permit holders only. Green boxes are free to anyone, but have a time limit. A nearby sign will indicate the length of stay permitted.
In reality you can park where you like as long as you stick your hazard warning lights on. This can mean double parking, blocking a complete carriageway or road, on corners or pedestrian crossings etc. As long as it's convenient to you, just stop your engine, put on your flashing lights and leave it.
2. Road markings. At junctions there may be a solid white line in front of you and the word STOP. This is not to be taken literally. The correct procedure in Malta is to tear up to this line at break neck speed, hang the nose of your car so far out it blocks the traffic and then just keep going.
3. Horns. The horn of your car should be used liberally. Particularly in built up areas at unsociable times. If you find yourself caught up in a traffic jam (because someone has decided to block the road by parking with their hazard lights on), honking your horn continually is bound to make things move faster. No one in nearby hotels will mind.
4. Buses. Malta has an extremely cheap and efficient bus service. Despite the fact they all look like they were made in the 1940's buses run every 10 minutes and most journeys are about 50cents. Bus drivers however are the most reckless people on the road. If they wish to get somewhere they will, regardless of who is in their way.
5. Indicators. Indicators are only fitted to Maltese cars for the purpose of hazard lights (see point 1 above). Under no circumstances should you tell people if you are turning off the road, or which exit of a round-a-bout you are planning to take.
6. Swerving. If the car in front appears to be driving a little erratically, chances are he is not drunk. He is swerving to avoid the potholes in the road. Use this as a pre-warning that you will also need to make dramatic directional changes.
7. Petrol. In the UK petrol stations prefer payment by card, and are sometimes reluctant to handle large sums of cash due to potential robberies. In Malta, petrol stations have never heard of credit cards and will demand payment in cash.
8. Overtaking. Overtaking in Malta is permissable on either side of the vehicle in front. Even if there does not appear to be enough room to pass, you should still edge your nose down the side of his car in the hope of nudging him off the road. If all else fails you might nudge him into a pothole.
9. Pedestrians. Pedestrians in Malta are well catered for. They have an offical crossing every 100 metres, some of them zebra style, some pelican. Do not expect pedestrians to use them though, they will happily step out at anytime and expect you to test your brakes for them.
10. Directions. Many motorists will find themselves lost in Malta. If you arrive at a busy junction and don't know which way to turn, the correct procedure is simply to stop, put on your hand-brake and consult your map. The traffic building up behind will be happy to wait, although they might wish to say hello through the voice of their horn (see point 3)
February 12, 2009
The Maltese Adventure: God Knows What Day It Is
What a hell of a few days since I last blogged. Hell is quite an appropriate word.
Last time I reported I was sick. it's now Thursday and I'm still not fully fit. I haven't eaten anything solid for two days and I single-handedly got through two rolls of toilet paper in one night last night. I really have lost track of days too. I haven't slept for more than 1 hour at a time in the past 72.
I tried breakfast this morning, thinking the stomach cramps were hunger pains. One small bowl of cornflakes and a tiny glass of pineapple juice and I was back to my room in agony.
But illness aside, what else has been happening in the land of the Maltesers? Well yesterday, some ass-hole decided to get into my car and remove my mobile phone for their own use. Now I will be without a means of getting in touch with people, other than through the office, for about 10 days. That's assuming I can find a cheap (but decent) handset online in the meantime. When I contacted O2 to ask them to cancel the SIM, they informed me the 12 quid credit I had left on the phone had already gone. less than an hour to drain 12 pounds of phone credit. I'm not allowed to blame the Maltese. If you mention the story to a local, the first thing they say is: "It wouldn't have been a local. Must have been a black."
Losing the phone is a HUGE inconvenience, not only because I had so many phone numbers in it, but it was my only thing keeping me going during the long, boring nights, chatting to friends by text. Granted, it was costing me a fortune in credit, but now I can only lie awake feeling my stomach churn.
I met Sir Alex Ferguson! He was over in Malta for a few days with Giggs, Scholes, Neville and a few older players. I met Sir Alex in a Scottish themed bar in St Julians and would have had the chance to meet all the others if I'd gone back that evening. (That was the evening my illness was at it's worse. Apparently Giggs does a lot of Kareoke) Fergie was more interested in finding out the result of the 1.30 race at Plumpton, but he was friendly and chatted openly. I did manage to sneak a photo of Sir Alex, and Paddy Crerand (for you older readers)....
....the photo is on my phone camera.
Last time I reported I was sick. it's now Thursday and I'm still not fully fit. I haven't eaten anything solid for two days and I single-handedly got through two rolls of toilet paper in one night last night. I really have lost track of days too. I haven't slept for more than 1 hour at a time in the past 72.
I tried breakfast this morning, thinking the stomach cramps were hunger pains. One small bowl of cornflakes and a tiny glass of pineapple juice and I was back to my room in agony.
But illness aside, what else has been happening in the land of the Maltesers? Well yesterday, some ass-hole decided to get into my car and remove my mobile phone for their own use. Now I will be without a means of getting in touch with people, other than through the office, for about 10 days. That's assuming I can find a cheap (but decent) handset online in the meantime. When I contacted O2 to ask them to cancel the SIM, they informed me the 12 quid credit I had left on the phone had already gone. less than an hour to drain 12 pounds of phone credit. I'm not allowed to blame the Maltese. If you mention the story to a local, the first thing they say is: "It wouldn't have been a local. Must have been a black."
Losing the phone is a HUGE inconvenience, not only because I had so many phone numbers in it, but it was my only thing keeping me going during the long, boring nights, chatting to friends by text. Granted, it was costing me a fortune in credit, but now I can only lie awake feeling my stomach churn.
I met Sir Alex Ferguson! He was over in Malta for a few days with Giggs, Scholes, Neville and a few older players. I met Sir Alex in a Scottish themed bar in St Julians and would have had the chance to meet all the others if I'd gone back that evening. (That was the evening my illness was at it's worse. Apparently Giggs does a lot of Kareoke) Fergie was more interested in finding out the result of the 1.30 race at Plumpton, but he was friendly and chatted openly. I did manage to sneak a photo of Sir Alex, and Paddy Crerand (for you older readers)....
....the photo is on my phone camera.
February 09, 2009
The Maltese Adventure Days 12 and 13
Is that the weekend?
I am officially ill. I haven't slept properly for 48 hours, a mixture of loud noises all through the night and some kind of fever. I go from boiling hot to freezing cold in seconds, and back again. I've taken some Anadin, so hopefully I can shake it off.
My boss is due here tonight for two nights. What a perfect time to be ill.
I've made into work each day, but I'm finding it hard to concentrate on the keyboard. The training I've given has been really basic too, we are falling behind, although only against my own personal agenda. I didn't have an official timetable to work to. To cap it all, the rain and winds are back too, so driving to and from work is back to being a nightmare. Trying to skip round puddles which are the size of Olympic swimming pools (and just as deep).
On a completely separate note, I watched the Italian version of 'Deal or No Deal' last night on TV. Completely bizarre. The host is like a cross between Dale Winton and Timmy Mallett. Some of the boxes have strange things in them (a dancing cartoon crocodile in one... I kid you not) and by the end I couldn't work out how much the contestant had actually won. I think it was 20,000EUR but for all I know it was the dancing croc!
....I also watched a Margaret Rutherford Miss Marple film dubbed into Spanish. Good job I knew the plot already :)
I am officially ill. I haven't slept properly for 48 hours, a mixture of loud noises all through the night and some kind of fever. I go from boiling hot to freezing cold in seconds, and back again. I've taken some Anadin, so hopefully I can shake it off.
My boss is due here tonight for two nights. What a perfect time to be ill.
I've made into work each day, but I'm finding it hard to concentrate on the keyboard. The training I've given has been really basic too, we are falling behind, although only against my own personal agenda. I didn't have an official timetable to work to. To cap it all, the rain and winds are back too, so driving to and from work is back to being a nightmare. Trying to skip round puddles which are the size of Olympic swimming pools (and just as deep).
On a completely separate note, I watched the Italian version of 'Deal or No Deal' last night on TV. Completely bizarre. The host is like a cross between Dale Winton and Timmy Mallett. Some of the boxes have strange things in them (a dancing cartoon crocodile in one... I kid you not) and by the end I couldn't work out how much the contestant had actually won. I think it was 20,000EUR but for all I know it was the dancing croc!
....I also watched a Margaret Rutherford Miss Marple film dubbed into Spanish. Good job I knew the plot already :)
February 07, 2009
The Maltese Adventure: The Interview
No idea what day it fell on, so I'll add this as an additional entry. A few days ago I had to conduct an impromtu interview!
A male Malteser had sent in his CV on spec, looking to see if we were hiring at the moment, and with about 30 minutes warning I got a call from my boss asking if I'd conduct an interview with him, and see if he was suitable for a job.
Well he was nice enough - a little bit cocky and full of himself, but perhaps that's the way they have interviews over here. He certainly seemed capable of learning the job, and his english was very good. It did mean me hanging around the office an extra couple of hours, which forced me to drive home in the dark again, which directly accounted for me taking a wrong turn (again). Other than that, not much else to report.
I never found any antiseptic for my bites, all the pharmacies over here only seem to open for one hour a day at completely the wrong time. The bites have almost disappeared though, so I don't think there is a risk of infection.
I didn't get a wink of sleep last night. Just as I was dozing off the noise from the streets got too loud to ignore. Friday night is apparently party night in St Julians. By the time it died down at about 3am, the bin trucks were beginning their rounds. It's nice that they empty bins daily, but not when you're trying to catch a few zzz's.
Not in the office on Sunday, so if I can't sleep tonight, at least I can have a lie in again.
A male Malteser had sent in his CV on spec, looking to see if we were hiring at the moment, and with about 30 minutes warning I got a call from my boss asking if I'd conduct an interview with him, and see if he was suitable for a job.
Well he was nice enough - a little bit cocky and full of himself, but perhaps that's the way they have interviews over here. He certainly seemed capable of learning the job, and his english was very good. It did mean me hanging around the office an extra couple of hours, which forced me to drive home in the dark again, which directly accounted for me taking a wrong turn (again). Other than that, not much else to report.
I never found any antiseptic for my bites, all the pharmacies over here only seem to open for one hour a day at completely the wrong time. The bites have almost disappeared though, so I don't think there is a risk of infection.
I didn't get a wink of sleep last night. Just as I was dozing off the noise from the streets got too loud to ignore. Friday night is apparently party night in St Julians. By the time it died down at about 3am, the bin trucks were beginning their rounds. It's nice that they empty bins daily, but not when you're trying to catch a few zzz's.
Not in the office on Sunday, so if I can't sleep tonight, at least I can have a lie in again.
The Maltese Adventure Day 10 and 11
I think that's Thursday and Friday. I'll probably get to the end of this and find I lost two days somewhere along the way!
Thursday was an ordinary day, just like any other. Breakfast, drive to work, work, drive home from work, but then it sort of changed. I knew I had the day off on the Friday, so I thought I'd dump the car and have a proper wander round, exploring some of the back roads of St Julians. Dumping the car proved to be an adventure in itself.
Firstly, my usual car park was full. All the cars seemed the same, like it was some sort of convention, so I drove up the hill towards my hotel. For 20 minutes I drove in and out of the alleyways looking for a free space. I'm sure I wasn't the only one, I swear I past the same Volkswagen Beetle four times.
After giving up, I drove back down the hill, past the car park again and out of town. It was a brilliantly hot day, so if I had a long walk back, it would be a pleasurable one. 2 miles back in fact in the end. It seems there is an invitational snooker event coming up on the island and a lot of visitors have already arrived, taking up valuable parking spaces!
As for the Friday, it was a day off. A long lie in, watching Midsomer Murders, a slow breakfast and then a bit of exploring. The weather was still warm, so I sat outside a lovely bar called The City of London for a while catching some afternoon rays. In the early evening I returned to my room, and sat out on my little balcony with my ipod, watching the world go by. It was then I got a phone call.
Actually, I had just had a call from my Dad helping me to organise a train ticket, so when my phone chirped into life again I assumed it was him. It wasn't.
"Hello, is that Mr Gibson?" asked the girl on the other end. I hate calls like that, usually means I'm in trouble or they're trying to sell me something. Considering I was getting charged to receive the call, I was determined to cut it short.
"Yes." was my only response.
...but then she continued to say she was from some TV production company, calling about the quiz show I'd applied for (which was over a month ago) and would I be interested in an audtion. To cut a long story short, the audition is in Bristol on 2nd March and if I"m successful, filming is in mid April and Mid May (although I won't be needed for both sessions).
...What a lovely surprise! :)
Thursday was an ordinary day, just like any other. Breakfast, drive to work, work, drive home from work, but then it sort of changed. I knew I had the day off on the Friday, so I thought I'd dump the car and have a proper wander round, exploring some of the back roads of St Julians. Dumping the car proved to be an adventure in itself.
Firstly, my usual car park was full. All the cars seemed the same, like it was some sort of convention, so I drove up the hill towards my hotel. For 20 minutes I drove in and out of the alleyways looking for a free space. I'm sure I wasn't the only one, I swear I past the same Volkswagen Beetle four times.
After giving up, I drove back down the hill, past the car park again and out of town. It was a brilliantly hot day, so if I had a long walk back, it would be a pleasurable one. 2 miles back in fact in the end. It seems there is an invitational snooker event coming up on the island and a lot of visitors have already arrived, taking up valuable parking spaces!
As for the Friday, it was a day off. A long lie in, watching Midsomer Murders, a slow breakfast and then a bit of exploring. The weather was still warm, so I sat outside a lovely bar called The City of London for a while catching some afternoon rays. In the early evening I returned to my room, and sat out on my little balcony with my ipod, watching the world go by. It was then I got a phone call.
Actually, I had just had a call from my Dad helping me to organise a train ticket, so when my phone chirped into life again I assumed it was him. It wasn't.
"Hello, is that Mr Gibson?" asked the girl on the other end. I hate calls like that, usually means I'm in trouble or they're trying to sell me something. Considering I was getting charged to receive the call, I was determined to cut it short.
"Yes." was my only response.
...but then she continued to say she was from some TV production company, calling about the quiz show I'd applied for (which was over a month ago) and would I be interested in an audtion. To cut a long story short, the audition is in Bristol on 2nd March and if I"m successful, filming is in mid April and Mid May (although I won't be needed for both sessions).
...What a lovely surprise! :)
February 04, 2009
The Maltese Adventure Day 8
Is day 8 Tuesday? I'm losing track now.
Most important thing that happened today was late at night... or early on the morning of Day 9 perhaps. Something attacked me in the night. I woke up this morning with three separate insect bites, one on my right shoulder, one on the inside of my left elbow and the third on the right side of my neck. The last one is the worst as I caught it with my razor and made a right mess of it.
I'll try to get some ointment from the local supermarket, but I'm not back in St Julians til late tonight, so they might be shut. I hope to God the critter responsible has left my room, otherwise there will be hell to pay.
The other thing from Day 8 is more of an observation. I hope I don't sound like I'm stereo-typing with this comment, but aren't we all guilty of that at some time or another?
It's about the local men and women of Malta. I'll start with the men. So far they have all been friendly, on the whole they keep themselves fit. Despite the fact there is a bar on every corner there doesn't seem to be an obesity problem like the UK, all in all a healthy bunch of blokes.... and they all seem to have 3 day old beard growth! No one appears clean shaven, but at the same time, moustaches and beards are rare too, everyone just seems to have stubble. How is that possible? How can you keep three day old fuzz on your face without it getting longer, or having to cut it shorter?
The other thing I've noticed is the women. (obviously). From teenage to middle age, Maltese women, on the whole, are very pretty. Again, they keep their bodies in shape, in general they have dark hair which compliments their olive skin. They dress well, or at least make it look as if they dress well.
When a beautiful girl or woman walks towards a man the man will stare to begin with. Then he'll think he's been staring too long so he'll look at the pavement. Then he thinks that looks too obvious, so he'll look back up again, but try not to make eye contact. As they pass, he'll slyly look backwards so he can see her from behind too. (or maybe this is just how I operate!) My point though is all Maltese women seem to have one thing in common.... their bums are slightly out of proportion with the rest of their figure.
I really can't explain it, but it's too common to be a coincidence. Maltese female's have backsides that are slightly larger than they should be. I swear I'm not making a detailed study of posteriors... you just can't help but notice! When I worked at the casino in IOM, the four Maltese girls there used to get teased about it, but I put that down to chance. I didn't expect an entire nation to have the same build! If someone can offer a rational explanation, I'd be glad to hear it....
...I'm not complaining of course :)
Most important thing that happened today was late at night... or early on the morning of Day 9 perhaps. Something attacked me in the night. I woke up this morning with three separate insect bites, one on my right shoulder, one on the inside of my left elbow and the third on the right side of my neck. The last one is the worst as I caught it with my razor and made a right mess of it.
I'll try to get some ointment from the local supermarket, but I'm not back in St Julians til late tonight, so they might be shut. I hope to God the critter responsible has left my room, otherwise there will be hell to pay.
The other thing from Day 8 is more of an observation. I hope I don't sound like I'm stereo-typing with this comment, but aren't we all guilty of that at some time or another?
It's about the local men and women of Malta. I'll start with the men. So far they have all been friendly, on the whole they keep themselves fit. Despite the fact there is a bar on every corner there doesn't seem to be an obesity problem like the UK, all in all a healthy bunch of blokes.... and they all seem to have 3 day old beard growth! No one appears clean shaven, but at the same time, moustaches and beards are rare too, everyone just seems to have stubble. How is that possible? How can you keep three day old fuzz on your face without it getting longer, or having to cut it shorter?
The other thing I've noticed is the women. (obviously). From teenage to middle age, Maltese women, on the whole, are very pretty. Again, they keep their bodies in shape, in general they have dark hair which compliments their olive skin. They dress well, or at least make it look as if they dress well.
When a beautiful girl or woman walks towards a man the man will stare to begin with. Then he'll think he's been staring too long so he'll look at the pavement. Then he thinks that looks too obvious, so he'll look back up again, but try not to make eye contact. As they pass, he'll slyly look backwards so he can see her from behind too. (or maybe this is just how I operate!) My point though is all Maltese women seem to have one thing in common.... their bums are slightly out of proportion with the rest of their figure.
I really can't explain it, but it's too common to be a coincidence. Maltese female's have backsides that are slightly larger than they should be. I swear I'm not making a detailed study of posteriors... you just can't help but notice! When I worked at the casino in IOM, the four Maltese girls there used to get teased about it, but I put that down to chance. I didn't expect an entire nation to have the same build! If someone can offer a rational explanation, I'd be glad to hear it....
...I'm not complaining of course :)
February 02, 2009
The Maltese Adventure Day 6
Ok, so firstly you're wondering where day 5 went aren't you? No? Well I'll tell you anyway. I wasn't in the office on Sunday, so I didn't have an opportunity to write anything about the previous day. Not much happened anyway except for the fact I managed to drive to AND from the office successfully. Not a single driving error or wrong turn. When I got back to St Julians the little car park was full, but the old man I mentioned previously told me to wait as he knew a car was about to leave. He was dead right so he saved me a lot of trouble, so I tipped him a Euro.
Anyway, Day 6 (Sunday 1st Feb) was a day off for me. Chance to catch up on some sleep, maybe walk around the town a bit more. I got up and went down for breakfast (and noticed they do boiled eggs too, although I only spotted them when I was leaving to go back to my room) then went back for a quick cat nap.
At about midday I went out to explore, and it was brilliant sunshine. No wind either, a really nice summers day, despite being the first day of Feb. I walked along the harbour road, the road I drive along to go to work, dipping in and out of shade as I did. I probably walked for about half an hour, thankfully this stretch of path is completely flat. Then, naturally, I turned round and walked back. I stopped off in an Irish bar to watch the second half of the tennis final before heading back up the hill to the hotel.
At seven o'clock my two trainees met me at my hotel so we could all go out for a meal. We chose a local Italian restaurant where Michelle know's the owner. A lovely meal, good company, and I think she got us a huge discount too, it certainly seemed very cheap for the amount we ate.
Bed by 10pm, very tired after my walking, but a thoroughly enjoyable day. Sadly, an early start required for day 7...
...but that's the price you pay for being so in demand :)
Anyway, Day 6 (Sunday 1st Feb) was a day off for me. Chance to catch up on some sleep, maybe walk around the town a bit more. I got up and went down for breakfast (and noticed they do boiled eggs too, although I only spotted them when I was leaving to go back to my room) then went back for a quick cat nap.
At about midday I went out to explore, and it was brilliant sunshine. No wind either, a really nice summers day, despite being the first day of Feb. I walked along the harbour road, the road I drive along to go to work, dipping in and out of shade as I did. I probably walked for about half an hour, thankfully this stretch of path is completely flat. Then, naturally, I turned round and walked back. I stopped off in an Irish bar to watch the second half of the tennis final before heading back up the hill to the hotel.
At seven o'clock my two trainees met me at my hotel so we could all go out for a meal. We chose a local Italian restaurant where Michelle know's the owner. A lovely meal, good company, and I think she got us a huge discount too, it certainly seemed very cheap for the amount we ate.
Bed by 10pm, very tired after my walking, but a thoroughly enjoyable day. Sadly, an early start required for day 7...
...but that's the price you pay for being so in demand :)
January 31, 2009
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!
January 30, 2009
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.
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 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.
January 24, 2009
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'.
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.
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.
January 22, 2009
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!
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!
January 19, 2009
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)
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)
January 17, 2009
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!
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!
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