I just popped into Cranners for some supplies, though, for a bit of a break. Ironically, I'm now bored, but can't go home: AndyYou'reAStar is organising a surprise BBQ for his summer girlfriend, so I thought I'd pick up some BBQ food. Think we're getting going about 6:30. CPG and the missus are coming along, too, which'll be really nice as I've not seen them for ages.
So, it all started this day last week, the day after the visit to the Lord Bar. Or, at least, it was supposed to. Dr Collins is on the run from his post in Sweden. Okay, "on the run" is a bit dramatic :) but he was in Argentina and Brazil for a few weeks after we were both last in the 'Fast. Then he was planning to stop here en route to France (but that all changed for reasons I won't go into here -- get well, Mrs Corr, though).
Anyway, last Thursday I was waiting all day for a call from him to tell me when I could pick him up from Heathrow, but he changed his mind and went to stay with the Italian GF. I heard nothing from him Saturday, when arranged to meet up with himself and herself at 2pm in a cavernous pub by the Watherloo. I hadn't been on the beers the night before, which is always a blunder when a London session is arranged, as it means I haven't innoculated my system. But anyway, the craic was good. Two of herself's friends turned up and we mosied on around to a couple of places near and on the Strand and then — with blind inevitability — to Waxy's. The lights were going out by that stage (about 11:30 pm) so we headed back to the Watherloo and I got my nice slow train home to Gilferd.
On Sunday morning, I looked at my wallet with some dismay. As always happens after a London seshun. So I was in two minds about going up to meet G'n'V. But when Dr Collins sent a text to come up because Mr Castles was en route, I couldn't in good conscience say no :)
This time, the meeting point was Westminster. I've never been to Westminster, but Dr C is a history geek, so it fitted... And I didn't know whereabouts the Tube spat you out. Needn't have worried. Taking the Houses of Parliament exit throws you out immediately beneath Big Ben. No mistaking it at all. We wandered back to Waterloo to meet Mr Castles — in my case for the first time — and rendezvous-ed with him at Bonaparte's, where he promptly threw back the remaining beer in the glass and we mosied on to the pub by the Globe. Can never remember its name, that one... Anyway, we basically stayed there from about 4:30 til chucking out time, and had a
So, I went home, and we'd already arranged for G'n'V to come and stay in Aggy because of their slightly cramped conditions, at least as long as Dr C was around. I'd had a wasted trip to Wimbledon DVLA because that silly little girl (who couldn't speak) at the DVLA call centre (yeah, she was at a call centre and couldn't speak clearly, getting annoyed with me — and I can understand all Welsh accents) (breath, Dave) hadn't told me about the last thing I needed to bring to change the Plan B over to a British log book. I was already pissed off. When they came down on Monday night, they found me stressed because I was about to go on local radio to talk about the Shuttle.
I do not study the Shuttle.
Spaceflight became my favourite site within seconds, and I raced home to get to town and pick up a Wanadoo CD before the shops closed (yeah, no internet connection at home). Anyway, we went to Café Rouge for a bite to eat, then back to the Hice to let them settle in, head fer bed, and let me do a bit of emergency reading-up. Up with the dawn at 5 am. More cramming. Then rang to see if I could park and thereby save myself ten minutes' walk (i.e. have ten minutes more cramming). I felt like I was about to do an exam in something I knew very little about...</far from the truth?>
It went remarkably well. So well, in fact, that when I rang up to ask for a tape of my stint, they askeed me to commentate on the landing. That went with... measured success, owing to NASA TV disappearing from my screen just 90 seconds before the Shuttle landed. Feck. Still, the Old Class was on... :)
Back home early, I kipped for an hour and a half to top up on the sleep I hadn't really been getting since before the last post. Met themselves in the Brit, gave Lucie a ring to see how she'd got on on National TV, and then rang Age to see if he wanted to join us in a drink. Plus, I was feeling a little out-numbered. He came down when we were quiz-machining, and was a star. Nice night, actually. We headed home before chucking out time, I seem to remember. (Was actually really drunk pretty much every night, owing to lack of sleep and food mostly.)
Wednesday started off with a chat at work to the Old HOD about a new project that I'd postponed after the previous day's sleepiness. Then the Funny German came down to talk at great length about the semantics of all the wording in the poster. Still, even though it was knackering, it was useful.
Anyway, I was feeling really really run-down at this stage. So when I went home, I ate before meeting the two of them inside in the White House. The Aussie was in the neighbourhood and called in — feeling really awkward, he later said, because he thought he'd intruded. I was glad he showed up, though, because he'd lifted herself's mood the previous day, and was suffering a reaction to a pastie, so she was even lower. His police mates turned up, too, and the policelady was on good form. I even learned a bit more about The Cricket... Which'll probably leak from my head after a while, like all pretend-sport information :)
We didn't stay. Dr C had sorted out a flight to Oireland, by the way. Instead, we left Age and we headed home fer a pizza and some gin. Very serious conversations were had. By feck, Italians can talk. I have noticed this. And himself fell asleep. I packed it in about 1:30am.
I dropped them off at the station the next morning, thinking that — although one of my best mates had been around for five days — I never got to have a decent conversation with him...
Anyway, a few notes on lastnight. The Aussie called round with a Chinese and big bottles of beer, and I fired up Lost from the previous night — very good by the way — with smatterings of Big Brother Craig's eviction in between. Was just about the most I could managed lastnight. Packed it in, didn't sleep great, woke up wondering what the best course of action would be (feign illness? go in for a few hours? ...sleep in car?? Dismissed that thought easily), then got up at 7:45 and fished around in my hastily discarded jeans for my phone. Found it. With a stunningly abusive message from Lord Simon's number! I got really worried. He gets lairy when drunk, but never nasty. It was sent at 4:56 am. Weird, I thought, because he always gets up around that time... So I texted back "Er... what? :o)", but the message didn't arrive. Then tried ringing him back instead to ask if he was in a bad mood (either because he was drunk at that hour or because he'd had to get up). Straight to answer-phone. Weird. Tried him again after I rang Neilo from outside the orifice. Number not in service.
Answer?
He'd got really drunk and lost his phone. Someone obviously half-inched it and decided to go through the inbox. And they're not a fan of lords, whoever they are. The message made that abundantly clear.
But today's been a weird one after all the overexposure to people. After a chat with the boss, I decided I'd better clear up how to edit and create pages on the group webshite. That took about most of the morning to write (never overestimate people's knowledge). Then did some poster tinkering, unenthusiastically (conferences must die). The lab's been nearly dead all day. Neilo's been posting grumpy texts from Wales</no change there, then>... But folks are hanging around now for the BBQ. Food cooking's starting in about 45 mins. Mmmmm... sausages...
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