End of year festival

Two months of not being able to meet any guys, and suddenly I meet a second amazing one today.

I know this makes me sound like some kind of slut, but that's not me at all. I don't have the powers of concentration necessary to keep more than one "gentleman friend" in my sphere of consciousness.... What it is is that there were these two great guys who I'd been wanting to meet up with for ages, and I finally got the chance to meet them both these last three days. Whereas Thurs night was more the date showing up impromptu (and a great time was had), today was something special in a different way. Again, arranged hastily lastnight, partly out of the guilt of me never being free to meet him (and being a little scared by his online grumpy persona). The reality couldn't have been more different!

Both cute, intelligent, very sexy guys -- physically exactly my type. Ten years' age difference between them, one much younger than me, the second a little bit older. And it's not as if I'm guy-shopping: that would imply that I "pick" one and it works out forever. Not so. You can't assume that it would ever work out with someone just cos you choose to make a go of it with them. But the guy I met today... I think I could happily give it a go with him. Need to sleep on it. Actually, I need to sleep full stop. Yaaawwwnn.... おやすみ

Er.... wow....!

Lastnight I had the fastest date in history -- in terms of how long it took to arrange.

"How soon can you be here?", I joked

"In half an hour if I jump on the next train". Wow...

And it was worth it. He may be the most extraordinarily attractive guy I've ever had the pleasure of kissing. He left just under two hours ago.

僕わ very happy and a bit excited です!

:o)

Oh, and he knows someone else I've met here. This is a small world

You forget.

I mean, you do. You absolutely and completely forget, after a while, how important it is to go and do something that you -- and maybe only you -- enjoy doing.

Tonight I went back to my first regular evening haunt and did what I loved to do in those first few weeks when I was here mostly on my own: go and talk to the bartenders, get them to teach me some Japanese, and drink a few beers over the whole experience.

Tonight I went back, and the sweetest (cutest, I might add) young guy helped me out with the difference between 僕 (boku), わたし (watashi) and おらえ (orae). Apparently, it can be huge.

The difference, I mean... (yack yack)

Anyway, after the past couple of months of intensive helping-other-people-ness, I'd nearly forgotten who I was. And the best of it was, this kid who I thought was really shy turns out to be really helpful and wanting to study for his education licence. And then he gives me a present of some sweets at the end.

These people don't get the concept of tipping still....

But it takes nights like tonight to remind me why I fell in love with these people -- they're polite, thoughtful, and so heart-tinglingly sweet. Okay, I may have had a few Suntory Malts, but I'm feeling ver warm and fuzzy and content right now. And a fit barman spoke to me for ages tonight. Leave me alone. ;o)

This may be the most pretentious post yet.

I'm typing this in a coffee shop in Tokyo. Yah yah yah...

:o)

Anyway, time to get to work! おはいおございます, etc....

Popjoy です

Popjoy です
Originally uploaded by finassy.

You know you're in Japan when you're eating something called "Bittery Crunky Popjoy" -- haha! :o)

Help!! I'm a Genetic Mutant!!

Help!! I'm a Genetic Mutant!!
Originally uploaded by finassy.

What the hell is this?? It keeps happening, then I grow my hair and forget about it.

Then I get it shorn again and, lo! The errant follicle reveals itself!! Is Beardy Ear syndrome related in any way to Hairy Hands?? And does this mean I'm shortly for the glue factory??

Boobies

For reasons I won't go into (but they're connected to the Central Bureaucracy™'s homepage theme this week), I just got home and typed the word "boobies" into Google.

The first hit?

www dot ratemyboobies dot com

I hope I don't have to explain why this had me in fits of giggles. Especially when I clicked on the link.

(Oh, and please don't try this at home kids.)

A wake for 小杉

I went to a Japanese wake tonight, for someone very senior who helped to get me out here.

We don't have many words to adequately describe the situation, because we hate talking about it. But death is the same for everyone, everywhere.

Here's to you, Kosugi-san. You gave us a great start. I'm honoured to have been there.

DSC00254.JPG

DSC00254.JPG
Originally uploaded by finassy.

I wish I knew someone called Marion in Belfast...

DSC00206.JPG

DSC00206.JPG
Originally uploaded by finassy.

The Harajuku boys compete with some of the locals for daring, out-there fashion

DSC00277.JPG

DSC00277.JPG
Originally uploaded by finassy.

This is the spacecraft driver's official hat.

Like the Queen's crown it weighs a ton. And is mostly shiny.

DSC00204.JPG

DSC00204.JPG
Originally uploaded by finassy.

The cool kids in Harajuku -- they were hanging back from the "Lolita Gothic" ones... it's scary that these names are starting to mean something to me now....

Not so much a quotes board...

Not so much a quotes board...
Originally uploaded by finassy.

...as a wish list. But it's a really nice place.

There were also some great ones on this board. I'll see if I can borrow Fluff's picture of the one about poor Mildred... You'll understand when you see it...

Time for the good stuff to be got

Dave B — my erstwhile Celtic counterpart — has planted the seed of a plan in my head. It involves going to Melbourne for a conference next July (marching season, I know).

Because I shared a house for nearly a year with a Melbournite, and because my natural disposition is one of swearing and drink, it reminds me of the existence of good wine, great bullshit, and warm evenings, punctuated by cool breezes and summer jumpers.

I miss holidays right now. But I know things will get better.

Turin Brakes: Full Of Stars is keeping me sane. That, and the thought that everyone I know is okay.

I hope I'm not out of touch...

Sheer fear

I've lost touch with people who I love more than life itself.

This terrifies me.

Neilo and Si were my best friends by far — by far! — when I was in England. Now I have to compromise my job just to get enough time to call any of them.

This is nuts. I hate it.

I love this country, and the people here, but I've got to assert a better life. I don't even have a place to live cos of the collective fuck-ups of my uni and the agencies here. I'm fed up of *that* aspect.

Give me strength. I know it'll be worth it :o)

d

I eat a cheese sandwich

So f*cking what, you may well be thinking.

I'll tell you what.

For the last three days, I've been cramming the occasional morsel (about two bits of bread a day) into my pie-hole just to keep blood sugar levels above zero, all the while deciding which orifice is more likely to provide relief from the ongoing pressure build-up in the digestive system. On Monday evening, when this all kicked off (less than 24 hours after getting caught out in the rain in Shinjuku), it was decided by the blighters-that-be that it would be from the lower end, and what a production THAT was.

Then nothing for two days.

Then lastnight, a HOST of vomiting produced the first gastric relief of the week. Which was nice. Still no respite from the perma-headache which had been tootling along in the front of my head, feeling like a Californian forest fire had got lost and decided to take up residence. At 2:50 a.m. this morning, though (japanese-ish time, naturally), I stuck my earplugs in as a final desperate measure. And, by jingo, it seems to have helped. I slept, I woke, I was no longer as allergic as a vampire to all forms of visible light, and I was able to hold down more than a gulp of water!

I decided to return to sleep, feeling quite cold still, but a little happier now that my head wasn't trying to separate itself into little grey-and-red pieces.

Then the temporary boss rang to see if I was ok. Measurably so, I replied. Should be back on duty tomorrow, what!!

And then, at 12:10 today, while listening to an ACTUAL ENGLISH LANGUAGE LOCAL STATION, a momentous thing happened....


....my appetite came back!



Ah, the restorative powers of a cheese sandwich...

Browsing other people's iTunes

Is a great pastime.

Desmond Dekker popped up under Pat's listings, and I'm currently rather enjoying A It Mek. A lot.

There.

The�Great Box Appeal

Majesty in a burnt-out caravan

Bought Made-up Lovesond #43 last week from iTunes. Still loving it.

In other news, the Great Box Appeal has been launched. Perhaps a little late in the day, but I'm liking the fact that I got a couple of immediate responses.

In other other news, the ball-ache that is the commissioning overview document is in pretty good starting shape, and we had a lengthy but productive meeting about it this morning. At which I was not hungover. Despite wrongness and drinking beer lastnight.�

And Neilo a) got a mention on Moyles this morning; and b) is off to Paris with Herself for three days.

How time flies when you're leaving the country, is my general philosophy on life at the moment.

Oh, and I've pushed back my leaving date by a week to the 12th. VERY wise.

Just spoke to Neil-o in Ibiza

And he's fecked.

Entirely understandably, too, given the insane last couple of days that he's had.

I, however, am less fecked. I'm mostly just bored. I want fun.

Suggestions on a postcard...

Oh, also, I'm typing this from the dining room, via the hooky wireless connection. I like it!

En Frenchy

Really chuffed that I just had a proper (albeit lightly stilted) conversation in French with someone for the first time in about two years.

Was chuffed to bits that he understood me, and said that I spoke French really well.

The fact that he was a very fit 20-year old who loves to paraglide in his spare time, and who's always smiled everytime I've passed him in the last month... was a bonus ;o)

Shame he's off back home tomorrow, but these little things always paint life a better colour!

ar*e

I meant to go home a long ago. Didn't.

Arse.

One giant leap

towards prosperity (not the project which featured Robbie Williams).

Dr Green pointed me to a fix for my Mac's internal network problem. And now I can see data. NO excuse for not working on the Mac soon, as the IDL licence file arrived this morning.�

All I need (not the Air tune) now is the IDL disc. And for SolarSoft to work. And....

:o)

Warning: sentimental gushy rubbish ahead

I mean it: consider yourself warned. It involves a break-up.

There. I told you...

...
...
...


It occurred to me a few weeks into the relationship with Essex Boy that I'd never discussed how it was going, what we'd done, the people I'd met through him, where we'd been together.

I made a bit of a mention (ahem) of when I met him (30th April, he says casually). The whole point of that rendezvous had been that it would be a casual one. But we got on a lot better than I'd been expecting and the chemistry was pretty intense stuff. We had another phone encounter after the one the night before I met him (when my bed'd been broken by LS's acrobatics). But apart from that, all it was a case of me going up to Chelmsford to see him -- with the exception of a visit by him to Guildford.

To start this at the end, Monday night was painful: a lot more than I'd anticipated. In my mind, it was going to be rotten, he was going to say something really detached like "okay then, dave" and it would be a case of me doing the walk of shame out the door and back down the 85-mile road to Guildford. In my mind...

In reality, I drove straight there from work, got a call from him (bless him) saying to avoid the traditional A12 which was gridlocked. So I left the motorway at Dartford and tried another route. In the end, I still got there just after 8:00, which didn't help me prepare any longer. In any case, I'd decided weeks ago on the long flight back from J-land what I was going to say if I was going to call it all off. Which I was pretty sure i would do even at that stage. And it was exactly what I said: I can' t do this any more.

It basically summed up the problem: I was getting to the stage where I wanted to get a bit more serious, but couldn't because a) he was 85 miles away, b) his job meant he could rarely leave Essex for even one night because of how long it would take him to get back if he was called in to work, and the c) the clincher, I was leaving England for Japan for a couple of years. Every phone call we'd had recently, which was less often in the last couple of weeks, always hit a quiet point when he asked "so when am I going to see you next". In part, because I got fed up being the one who was making all the effort, and in part because the reality of how fast things were starting to move and the geographical obstacles were so glaringly obvious that it became impossible to ignore the implications of the question. So I told him: I can't do this any more.

But I wasn't expecting him to say "I know you can't".

At first, I wasn't sure if he was just putting a brave face on things. Then, as the conversation falteringly got underway, with me visibly shaking, I learned he'd been giving this a lot more thought than I 'd realised. The biggest surprise was that he'd considered calling it off when I called him my boyfriend, albeit indirectly, as I'm stereotypically phobic of commitment (come on, I only came out two years ago!). But he didn't, and when he came down to Surrey not long after that, I had one of the best days ever around town and in the park with him. And even managed to get him to sleep in the next day -- ha! Never thought I'd accomplish that!

So we talked for over an hour about how it'd all come to be and why it was ending. All amazingly amicable given what I'd expected to happen, and I told him that. He said I didn't know him very well; I didn't point out that that was part of the regret of the situation. Then things got steamy very quickly and we had some of the best bedroom action of the whole ninety-two-day relationship. "Best break-up ever!", he laughed. But the good mood didn't last much beyond an hour. It was starting to cut me up being that close but knowing that I wasn't staying that night. With every five minutes that passed, I wanted to leave less and less, and we were both starting to get quite sore about the reality of it all being over. So I grabbed a towel to go and shower off and start the physical separation.

"Are you coming in with me?", I asked. "I don't know", he replied, completely honestly. I knew then that these were our last few minutes.

The bathroom was occupied, so I couldn't go in and get on with it. This happened three times. Each time I went back to bed and lay next to him and held him. It was harder each time. Harder to let go, obviously, but still difficult when you know something like this is ending.

"I'm taking Karen's advice", he'd said earlier in the evening. What's that? "Treat it like he's dying", apparently. The thought had crossed my mind twice since I'd known him, but it only ever served to make me pull myself together: see now how stupid you're being?, I'd thought to myself. It puts everything into context, doesn't it? I had to agree, I was very right. But when I heard it from To��o's highly kissable lips, it sounded like a totally foreign concept.

The other thing that had surprised me when we'd been talking came up when I mentioned that I'd known it was him calling on his work phone because I'd saved his number.
"I've never been able to save your number"
Really?
"Well it's a moot point now, isn't it?"
I said something stupid like: we can still keep in contact with each other.
"You don't really think that's going to happen do you?"

I hadn't given it a great deal of thought, other than the expectation that eventually we'd be far removed enough from each other that it'd be much easier. And I said as much. But he wasn't convinced. I eventually managed to bargain him up to letting me send him a Japanese fridge magnet for his mum...

We talked about his ex, Mark, and he mentioned that Mark had broken him. And now, so was I. I stayed silent. I didn't fully understand what he meant, although I had this sickening inkling...

Eventually, the bathroom became free. I didn't recognise the face of the guy drying himself off afterwards, smelling of the coconut shower gel I'd used by virtue of it being closest to hand. I looked weird.

When I got back into the room, Tony had dressed again. I sat down quietly on the bed beside him and pulled on my clothes and shoes. We didn't say very much to each other. Then we went downstairs. Parky and the ubiquitous Lisa were in the living room and I said goodbye to them, winking to Parky in a pathetic attempt to pretend everything was okay.

It was a playback of the arrival. What I'd desperately wanted that night when I arrived was for Tony to answer the door and for us to go upstairs. Instead, everyone was there: Maxine, Parky, Ema, Karen, and Lisa, all saying hello and making me feel so small and shitty for what I'd come there to do. I'd had some wonderful times there, and seeing Ema and Karen especially broke my heart. They must have been able to see by my face that something was wrong. I know Tony did because he asked me what was up: he looked worried, even though he didn't admit it later.

So he walked me to the door on My First Break-Up™, and held my hand the whole way down to the door. Past the living room where we'd sat one Sunday and just listened to music on the fancy Bang & Olufsen TV. Past the kitchen where we'd first "pashed" as the Aussie would say. Past everything in the Dream House™. And at the door he said "goodbye dave" and it hurt. I barely registered what else he was saying. Until I held him close and he said the magic words. Then I heard it in crystal-clear surround sound. I said goodbye to my Cutie, and left as he said "Knock 'em dead". And desperately tried to replace the enduring image of him standing sillhoutted in that doorway with one of him smiling.

I still can't.

A stag do hangover's posting

This isn't going to be a long entry (matron), as I'm fecked. However, I have the following:

1. The MacBook in front of me
2. a seat in the garden (rapidly cooling)
3. a breeze to stop me from passing out all day
4. my car back
5. a bruise on the inside of my right upper arm the size of Tanzania (equal-area projection)
6. the satisfaction of having hit 9 of my first twelve clay pigeons yesterday on Dr Mr Bridger's stag do.
7. a waiting bed

I also have Black Book series 3 on DVD, and have watched 4/6 episodes this afternoon after picking it up, along with Into the Blue (feat. long-time future husband Paul Walker), and two more DVDs, both of which are sitting on the dining room table pile and whose names ENTIRELY escape me, now that I'm running on post-washing-up battery levels.

I've also decided that I've got to end it with the Essex Boy. Which is going to kill me, but it needs to be done.

Anyway, on brighter notes again... Yesterday was mighty craic. After a rapid dash to Field & Trek to buy a hat, then a spur-of-the-moment t-shirt, I drove over to Dr Bridger's place and met Guildford Mike and Best-Man Mike (for the first time, I think, always hard to tell). Bacon sandwiches were duly provided as Mr Scriv, Mr Fluff, Rowan and the highly edible James all turned up. I'd cleared out the Plan B so as to offer it for transport reasons, so Mr Bridger, myself and the two Mikes all clambered in and hoofed it down to Midhurst where we were met by two extremely calm, rational and very friendly huge-gun experts. After determining that I was probably right-eye-dominant, the instructor (a fuzzy-faced young bloke called Tony), wearing a rather pricy-looking check shirt, pressed shorts and a club tie took us back up the hill whence we'd come and introduced us to the weighty feedback associated with firing a twelve-bore double-barrelled shotgun.

There is quite a kick, I should point out, but no the kind that throws you back into the bushes behind you. However, you're still very aware that you're firing something powerful. I can see how some people would enjoy it, although I'm not sure a career in shooting things really beckons for me.

I was third up in our party of five, and the instructor seemed rather impressed when I hit everything after the first three of my twelve shots.

Not as bloody impressed as I was. I was shaking a little towards the end, a mixture of excitement and shock. Anyway, post-first round, we cycled through the five of us again, and I hit half of the following dozen clays. The next trap was a bit more disastrous, but I think the reason was the slightly agonising injury I'd inflicted on myself when the butt of the gun hadn't sat in exactly the right place and I'd somehow managed to wedge it inside my forearm. The resulting pain really didn't aid my aim at all.

At the end of the first two traps, we'd already been there for over two of the two-and-a-half hours our session was scheduled for, so we ambled back to where we'd met the instructors to find the other five eejits all reclining in a gazebo waiting for the ten-man shoot-off (not shoot-out, it's importat to state). Messrs Scriv and Fluff pulled off a rather stunning 10 / 10 shots on their gos, to the extent that we started questioning Fluff's pre-lab back-story. (Mine about being an unassuming scientist who just happened to grow up in the Irish borderlands seemed to be reasonably rock-solid after I calmed down and started deliberately missing a lot on trap 2. I only hit 7 / 10 on the final round. Phew!)

So Fluff vs. Scriv came to pass, and Fluff pulled off a resounding victory. I seem to remember that he scored 9 against Scriv's 8 but I might be doing them a disservice.

After this, our instructor recommended a rather lovely local hostelry (the duke of cumberland) and we repaired there for a few ales (only one at the start in my case). The craic was already good, but the troops started getting hungry and I wanted no more part in the incidental sobriety, so we made for Bridger's place and more bacon sandwiches. This time, with the aid of a cheeky chalotte, coriander and chilli jelly. It was da bee's very knees. And it primed us rightly for the first round of grown-up drinking in the good old Royal Oak. Where the barmaid, Merc, drew "I AM MERC'S BITCH" on James's arm. And revealed her top-heaviness's underwear. Matt was in heaven with his telescopic lens... Etc.

Thence to the Maloncho Tandoori (much maligned by me over the years, but rather impressive yesterday), where we were the only people in the place when we sat down. Out presence probably didn't help them draw in loads of people, to be honest, but the form was good all round and at no point did things get aggro (good crowd, so it was very unlikely anyway).

Pub umihir a do was the King's Head on Quarry St. The clientelle was depressingly like something from Hollyoaks, and we sat in the corner wondering how bad it would be if they reintroduced military service so all these young upstarts would at least get a haircut. But we stayed for a couple then moved on to the old staple that is Rogues (well, if you live up the other end of town, at any rate). Got a table in the back sufficiently surrounded with railings to prevent anyone (particularly the impending groom) from falling off the bench, but not so far up the back garden that we had to negotiate stairs. Perfick!

By the time midnight came round and the staff were getting bolshy about us sitting outside, we'd been on the sauce for quite a while. And considering that James, on his jean-wearing return to the Royal Oak, had got the ball rolling with tequilas all round, we were somewhat the worse for wear. Although none as worn as Mr Bridger. Hence, hats off to Best Mike for a job well done. And a stag actually brought safely back.

Ceri would've had his guts for garters, anyway, so it was probably partly motivated by self-preservation.

More on this soon if I have time. I'm calling up to Essex Boy tomorrow night. Wish me luck. Meanwhile, the Aussie is at the World Gay Event that is Madonna's tour calling at Cardiff tonight, after he's been away at Twae Kwon Do Camp (yoo-hoo, etc.), and Lord Simon is on his long-touted holiday in El Gouna, splashing around and taking photos of fish. I dropped him off on Friday morning and took his Astra for the day.

Whatever it takes to get him out of the country for a bit of peace and quiet, eh?

There's lovely.

(P.S. Now listening to Born of Frustration by James, now that I've spun all of L.S.'s Now DVD tracks onto the new machine. Which I'll come up with a name for if I love it any more!)

Why I look so happy

Why I look so happy
Originally uploaded by finassy.

...is because yesterday I turned up to work, to find that my MacBook Pro had arrived!!!

This was the first picture that I took with the iSight camera, built into the screen's frame (it asks you if you want to photo yourself as the login picture when you're setting up... how cool is that?!)

I was very very happy. And still am! :oD

Eh>?

DSCF0002.JPG
Originally uploaded by finassy.

This is a very exciting post...

...I'll explain why shortly!! :oD�

No presents

As predicted, the MacBook Pro didn't arrive today.

Boo.

Still, this way I "know" it'll arrive here next week, probably monday when I'm in Manc.

R.

Happy weekend, I hope.

The Coast Is Always Changing

Not only an astute geological observation, but also a great and beautifully-harmonised track from Maximo Park (who I find better than the also-good Kaiser Chiefs, who stole the limelight last year).

Braking nooze

There is news aplenty (much of it breaking/broken)

• The Aussie now doesn't want to break up with Eenglish
  
• He has now been offered a better-paid job than mine (bastard)
• He is 23 (double bastard)
  
• My MacBook Pro's Le Bag 17" Pro and wireless mouse arrived on Wednesday
• My MacBook Pro did not. Nor has it yet.
• I know exactly when it'll arrive: Monday. For why? I'll be in Manchester, that's why.
• Neilo is currently off til Mallorca with Scott Dot and Company
• It is Hazel's birthday BBQ tomorrow night (brace yourselves)
• I have no money, but I have appeased Orange for the time being
• The Plan B was MOT'd last week and Mum helped out with the cost, seeing as it's going to Youngest in about a month
  
• It looks like I'll be able to make Mr Dr Bridger's stag and wedding dos. But let's be wary about the second event, as my life needs careful holding of the reins at the moment
• I spent most of yesterday homesick. For the first time in a very long time.
• Today is nice
• FIN
  

Au d�but de la fin

D'you know what...? I've idly spent several trains of thought this evening on how to say "the beginning of the end" in French. And now that I've written it... it looks really fucking pretentious...!

Ach well...

The reason for the melancholic title is mainly that it looks like the Aussie is about to break up with Eenglish (a.k.a. Lord Simon, a.k.a. L.S.). E.T.B*. is Friday evening, so I'm going to have to make myself scarce for that.

(*Breakup, in case you were wondering.)

The Aussie and I just sat out on the crap patio for a couple of hours, as the warning signs were rather firmly in place lastnight, and it'd obviously been playing on his mind all day (first clue: he replied promptly to my e-mail this morning -- that never happens). And by 10:30 I suggested that he'd already made up his mind: he agreed.

The fitting thing is that L.S. and I had similar conversations at the IoW Conference™ II about their future, although with a slightly different slant (did he want a relationship at all, etc.)...

I'm blogging this next bit because it's entirely selfish, and I need to get it off my chest.

Even though I've seen it coming for a couple of months now, and even though I love them both very very much and I'd much rather see them happy apart than miserable together.... even despite all this, I'm devastated.

I used to hate it when they fought — it was like seeing your mum & dad fighting, and I couldn't bear it. I was much happier when they made up because I got to see an actual functioning lord couple who I knew. That meant a lot, one year into the big gay adventure.

But, to get all teenage angsty: after months of sticky heat, a rainstorm is about to arrive to clear the air and wash it all away. Just like tonight (I should be a heavily cliché-ridden move director).

My biggest fear is that I won't see L.S. again for a long time. And I only have seven weeks left in this country (of which one will be at home). He's one of my closest friends, but my gut tells me that if he has to stay away from the Aussie (and he will if this happens), then I won't see him again, as he'll be entertaining himself wherever he can. And that'll really break my heart.

Hence, you see, the selfish angle.

And then I'm about to ditch the Essex Boy, so that doesn't much help... I'm at that stage in the relationship where I need to see more of him, or it's all off. And I can't see more of him because he lives so far away, and he can't drive here, and i'm about to move to the other side of the world so I want to get it all over with now.

I want to break it off right now. (P.S. I decided to dump my bloke first, so Adrian must be copying me! Right!?!) Because I can't deal with this one-foot-in one-foot-out situation any more — it's draining me. And it's not fair on his poor soul, either. I've already not dumped him on his birthday (last Sunday), which we celebrated the previous Wednesday. That was such a good night out, that it just confirmed it for me.

So I'm just trying to work out a respectable time to do it.

Answer: Dave, there is none. Just do it.

I'm too tired for this shite. And I want to go home.</mummy, etc.>

Captain: Glorious Town
Richard "Humpty" Vission: Alright

Hot Dog, Found My Watch, Albuquerque

Prefab Sprout's The King of Rock'n'Roll, without doubt one of my favourite tunes of all time is now playing.

AND I found my watch this morning, having assumed I'd left it in the drunk shack on the IoW.


How nice.

Flowers

by Sweet Female Attitude was Pandora's first offering this morning.

In other news, the two lords are going through a very rocky patch, and I'm not sure how much I should back off. Not least because my own relationship isn't exactly a screaming success at the moment. But their future together doesn't look good right now.

I'll be heartbroken if it ends, to be honest. But they're my friends, and I'd rather see them happy apart than miserable together.

Rubbish.

I like a joke

I like a joke
Originally uploaded by finassy.

Well at least something in this picture is straight, eh?

After the second Isle of Wight Conference

...my head is very much enjoying some big gay vocal house.

Hence me enjoying Alright, by Richard "Humpty" Vission (on the very enjoyably-named Shut The F**k Up and Dance album).

Details of the past few weeks (Tokyo, the pre-Tokyo stress, the IoW Conference II, Tony... all to follow).

Hats off to Neilo for many things, too, including giving me a spot on national radio yesterday from Winchester Services.

End of the first phase of doom

Today, the EIS UK tutorial went well.

Which is not to say that myself, Fluff and JR didn't flog our guts out to make it work.

But it worked. Much better than we (or perhaps anybody else?) expected!

Hurrah

I'm now off to go comatose for a bit.

Actually, that's not true. I want to unwind tonight. I'm not long for this day, but I'm going to take it easy in the morning. Starting with sending a message to work that I'll be in late, I think.

Marvellous.

Hope the world is well — I wouldn't know, as I've had my head up me arse.

The Bottomless Record Box

...has just produced He Said She Said (featuring Tiffany).

Two things

1. It is a great dance record
2. It features Tiffany (Count Drunkula would be pleased)
   

That is all for now. I am furiously trying to finish the first draft of the EIS Planning Tool User's Guide. Eep!

To swim, perchance to get out of the office...

Having not swum since 2003 in the pool at work, with which we're undeservedly blessed — being the bunch of frauds and shysters that we are — I'd forgotten how good it was to take a tea-time dip and wash away the cares of programming/webshite-updating/organising a meeting.

I've come back all chilled out and not wound up about the mad mutterings of the dutchman beside me. Must do this every day, while I still can.

La vie est sometimes belle.

Adventures in commuting

Lastnight I went straight from work to EB's place in Essex. Getting there in the evening was a breeze.

Getting back just took me 2¾ hours (allowing 15 minutes for a stop-off at Clacket Lane for a much-needed massimo mocha and wrap for breakfast).

I'm weighing up whether to try that experiment again. How the hell does anyone in this country commute like that every day? My average speed was something like 35 mph!

I'm really quite happy that I'm meeting Mr Bridger for lunch today... Don't think I could cope with this place uninterrupted for a whole day :o)

To end on a funny note though, I passed LS in his VW van between junctions 3 & 4 (I think — was around there, anyway) as he was flying around anti-clockwise, trying to find a way into the yard in London (not The Yard, as in police).

Strange life.

Very hot today.

Discuss.

Jewel Drop by Kashmir

= a beautiful haunting tune.

In other news, I feel brilliant today, despite the fact that I've no right to. Was out on the tear with Neilo and Herself on Fri night/all day Saturday. Then they fled back to London lest more drinking ensue at the otherwise-inevitable pub lunch.

So I went into town and bought two pairs of trainers, and then came home and really chilled in the garden. Then LS landed and we went to the pub to meet some friend of his. The plan had been for me and the Two Eejits to celebrate our first year of knowing each other with a meal.

This did not happen.

Instead, The Aussie remained home and sober, while we stayed in "'Spoons" and got leathered.

So I really should feel awful today. But I don't yet. Hmmmm....

Fridgewatch: Breaking Breaking News!!

Someone's only gone and nicked the bloody fridge. And for students to use. And not even proper students: SUMMER STUDENTS!!. I ask you...

I feel physically okay. But emotionally ill. I'd developed great plans in my mind for that fridge. Skimmed milk for skinny cappuccinos (now that I'd worked out what "skinny" coffees meant), a wine store, and potentially lashing it to my back as I cycled around My Island.

Feckers.

We'll get it back after the summer. Which'll be shag-all use to me as I'll be gone by then.

rAse.</rearrange>

Missing: one gay immigrant housemate

If anyone sees an overenthusiastic Australian — with ridiculous sunglasses and reeking of bacardi and margaritas — wandering around Lordville, could they please put him on a slow train to Aggy.

Some lovely Spanish lady with small kids will probably wake him from his drunken slumber on the uncomfortable plastic seating, if my experience is anything to go by.

Thank you.

This was a Community Service Announcement.

I'm off

Right, I'm tired of this computer and everyone in it.

I'm going home. Hopefully to find out a riddle that LS has been keeping from me all day. The scamp.

(N.B. Scamp is not the singular form of scampi.)

Bye then.

Fridgewatch: BREAKING NEWS!!!

There is now (real) milk and some raffle-won Frascati that's been sitting behind my old coffee machine for the past er... seven(?) months — IN THE FRIDGE!!



More on this as it breaks.

Fridgewatch

We now have The Driver's old fridge (as his hut is being demolished) in our orifice.

Switched it on on Monday, looked at it suspiciously, then left it to make several different types of strange noise in the corner. Sounds a bit like the spaceship on Star Trek now.

Still nowhere near as noisy as my Rolls Royce-engined desktop, though.



So here it is: the inaugural refrigeration of a sandwich.



Mum was over at the start of this week, hence the fact that it is a Debenham's sandwich (also, I'd drunk a full Venti Mocha at Starbucks just before this, and couldn't eat it.)


Et, voil�: un sandwich, avant d'�tre mang�. Shortly afterward, it was gone.

From this, we can conclude that refrigerated sandwiches are delicious, and will be eaten.
Quod erat demonstrandum.

Guillemots

Trains to Brazil has just been on Pandora. I'd forgotten what a great song that was.

Always reminds me of Christmas, ...weirdly?

(P.S. I only added Guillemots this morning after I heard Jo Wiley playing their Made-Up Love Song #43. Well done, Pandora!)

Fin.

Ghost (Mix 6) by Howie Day

I am very much loving this today.

Pretty much up the same street as Ryan Adams.

Yes, it's late. I should go home. Just had a good natter with Dr G about what to do with this Big Idea I've had. Hope it comes to something, as I think it'd be a vote-winner.

Public Outreach Faffery

...is one way you could read this. But it's all to do with a genuine idea I've got for showing people a cool side of what it is we do.

My travels

Visit my travel blogs

Tea rocks

I have just made, if I do say so myself, a wicked cup of tea. Strong enough to bite until the end, but with just enough milk to stop it ruining my tastebuds for the rest of the morning.

Aaaaaaaah...... :o)

Had a wicked Saturday night and Sunday with Essex Boy this weekend. The annual opening of the hot spa at his house was very welcome. LS has basically invited himself and the Aussie up with me the next time I go up. He's lacking certain vital information, though, and I don't always share those I like so soon ;o)

That is all. Just waiting for "Captain Fatty", as he styles himself, to respond to an e-mail so I can get cracking on these bloody TV test data...

Happy Monday
(You can so tell I got lucky this weekend)

Espresso Me!

I AM THE ESPRESSO FIEND!!!

All shall be slightly wary of me after about 10:00 in the morning. But only on days like today, where I got up at 06:00 (the extra leading zero there is for emphasis). And proved QT wrong by texting him at 05:59. Ha! Fair play to LS

Yesterday I did a Bad Thing? and forgot that I had an 09:00 (again with the leading zero) meeting with L&L. Hence, today I was in before 07:30. Having had breakfast before 7:00 (can't be arsed with the extra zero now). Which means a banana and an espresso now, as AF is coming over from what used to be the Queen's University Space Group (and was still informally called that for about a year after I arrived, even though it'd been renamed the APS).

Anyroad, he's coming over to give a PG lecture, and I told the PS I'd show him about the place afterwards. And before PUB LUNCH.

Mmmmmmm.... espresso.....

MegaPost: Brilliant Bank Holiday Weekend

There's something about the Mayday bank holiday weekend^*

This year's took the following form:

1. Friday night, I got home about 7:00, having eschewed the idea of the gym in favour of getting a bottle of wine, and fully expecting to find the two lords on their way out of the house. They almost were. The fact that I was blatantly in the mood for a drink meant that I only said "no" to them twice when they asked me to join them for dinner at Old Orleans. Then, I caved.
2. We got there, after a quick car-based detour to the offy at the bottom of the road to get spiritual supplies for the post-pub time, and asked the nice man to reserve us a table in the name of "john" (apparently lots of people to this on a first-name basis. I worried that LS had used a fake name because he wanted to get up to some badness.) We sat outside, The Aussie browsing the menu and LS and I perving around (it had, after all been the first full five-day week in nearly a month, so there was a lot of R&R to make up for!), until "John"'s table for three was announced and we got seated in a booth at the back of the restaurant (I think LS's picture has probably been circulated around all the establishments in Guildford by now).
3. LS was in typical buoyant mood, and they'd clearly decided to keep the rest of the customers away from us, as the table behind me was moved as soon as the current occupants were finished. Still, the craic was very good, and we were all in very good form -- probably the first time that's happened for a while. It was no coincidence that it was payday for me and LS, and that the Aussie had been paid the day before (hardly ever happens that close together). The Aussie could tell me and LS were in the mood for a rip, so promptly ordered a jug of Long Island Ice Tea while we us remaining eejits busied ourselves with some beer (in my case, Corona) and pish (Budweiser for LS, who doesn't drink beer).
4. But you can't begin to imagine the look of joy on LS's face, and the look of horror on the Aussie's, when we discovered the crayons and the drawing-paper table cloth! Having only ever nipped in to Old Orleans for a post-cinema snifter (usually non-alcoholic, too), I had no idea that this was a service they offered. Territorial crayon-drawing promptly commenced, with OCD-boy drawing places for everything: knives, forks, glasses, bottles, empty bottles, ... Then a drawing of Oz by the Aussie, for a game of guess where the fuck everything is in Australia. (Apparently, Croydon Hills is a city. I disputed this, but not vocally.) After LS calmed down, on request, he got some more drawing paper for to amuse ourselves. Which was great, as we'd had enough jars by the time the main course came that we weren't actually hungry.
   
5. After all this, we adjourned to the bar, where I bought round 1. This was despite the Aussie's protests, who was protesting largely because he'd had a jug of L.I.I.T., much of it on an empty stomach. Eejit. :oD So, once he'd put that away, he made his excuses and left me and LS to the drinking for which we were so obviously geared up.
6. This involved a lot of drinking. Starting with large measures (my fault), then ramping up to the Killer Drink of Doom (gin, JD and Coke), and finally ending with a lot of bar staff (and a few remaining other people) being entertained by LS's antics, which were clearly designed to attract the attention of the extremely cute (and fit) blond barman who I'd been pesting over since we walked into the place. (I'll come back to that point in a bit). Oh yeah, the final drink was a Smirnoff Ice with a red Aftershock in it, to be downed from the neck with the aid of a pressure-release bendy straw poking out the side. I made a messy but successful attempt, all the while being abused by LS that this wasn't the right way to do it (although the bar staff all disagreed, pointing out my success as disproof). Then he proceeded to do exactly the same as me. Very funny. This was after the politically incorrect jokes had been passed around, of course.
7. I'm out of sync here, slightly, because I'd rung the Essex Boy before the Smirnoff Ice 'n' Aftershock incident. I sat over on the sofa, well away from LS at the bar (who was by that stage at peak volume) to make the call. Eventually I got called over to pay for a round as he was too fucked to enter his PIN (well done, Chip'n'Pin people!), at which point I handed EB over to LS. LS then proceeded to pass my phone over to one of the bar staff, and I got very worried. EB wasn't amused, it turns out. Anyway...
8. As LS had downed his SIA combo in record time, and one of the staff had videoed it on his own phone, I tried to Bluetooth the video to my phone for keepsake reasons. This failed (full memory on my part). Anyway, LS handed me his phone to try bluetoothing it onto it instead (as he couldn't type -- see above). While I was furiously, but vainly, trying to do better, he kept calling to me to hand it back. I didn't, as I was determined not to be beaten by the technology (even Nokia's evil interface). This was a key moment. It turns out he'd persuaded cute barman boy to give him his number (no challenge too straight). Me not handing over phone = no phone number entered = no phone number got = extremely angry drunk pesting buddy. BF not an issue in these matters -- it seems a point of principle. He got the MAJOR fucking hump (no irony intended), and stormed off. I tried to calm him down, but he was raging. I got fucked off and didn't fancy any more of that shite, and went to walk home. Then, got pissed off and thought: 'naw! That's exactly what he wants me to do, so fuck that!', and proceeded to try and track him down. Hadn't far to go, as he was staring at his phone outside the VL. With him still in a mood, we tried to get into The Drink. They ostensibly turned us away because of our trainers. In reality it was probably because we couldn't see. Very wise. Thus, the last refuge of the man who doesn't mind overpriced beer was chosen, and we wandered in.
9. LS noticed someone rather nicely built who he recognised, which was handy as it avoided him speaking to me. Next thing I remember, yer man is kicking off because LS has apparently tried to plant a friendly gesture on his face. I then spend the next ten mins (approx?) trying to calm him down, and reminding him how much he thought LS was a jolly good egg (not in so many words) until oh so very recently. This seemed to buy us enough time to get out, which is exactly the direction I pointed LS in once he looked all wounded and realised something had gone sour.
10. After that, nada. I only know we got back at separate times. And that I probably told him to fuck off at the bottom of the main road. He last remembers realising that he'd walked up the road and then ended up walking down it for some reason (my guess: because it was easier).
    

1. Saturday had been deemed London Day. But the previous night's drinking and the natural evolution of plans involving the two lords modified all that. I'd had a hurcut on Friday, but the two lords were up and about at 9:00 as they needed to head into town for that very reason. I texted LS with the message "Balls. Don't remember getting home. Do you?" To make sure I was actually awake he decided to hop into my room, announcing he was going to do to me exactly what he'd done to the Aussie (careful now), and promptly jumped onto me in bed. The poor spine of my bed didn't know what had hit it (answer: an 86-kilo man in shorts at high speed). After I finally dislodged him from my shattered sleeping apparatus, I examined the destruction and exiled the two of them -- the Aussie was guilty by either association or cause-and-effect, haven't quite decided -- to their lordy haircuts. I went downstairs fuming that my only task that morning -- sleep -- had been so violently thwarted.
   
2. Tried the sofa, then went to the spare room, where I texted my complaint to EB.
3. I dozed there for an hour or so until they got back, bearing a pineapple (seriously). Then I got a text from Youngest saying she (actually, Forgotten Middle Child) had worked out the theme of all the songs on her birthday iPod. I was very happy and rang her to issue congratulations. Then I passed her over to LS (first time, sober) and then the Aussie (with whom I suspect she'd get on very well), the latter of whom told her a bit too much about the previous night's proceedings, but ah well. She's 21 now and needs to be aware of some of these things.
4. I pushed for an actual plan to be formed, as the two lords had abandoned doing touristy stuff together that day, pre-dhrink. LS had decided to get a digital SLR camera "on tick" to experiment for his new business idea, and the Aussie wanted to do some ultra-lordy shopping in London, unhindered. Hence, LS went home, the Aussie went to London, I grabbed a shower and change of clothes, LS returned and promptly lay down at the top of the landing, unshowered, unmotivated and deeply unhelpful to my plans for getting things to dress to impress EB with the next day. Eventually, after I'd put my clothes out on the line to dry (rock'n'roll, kids) he went and got washed. Then we drove into town, I did some express shopping, via a half-hour stint in the camera shop while he got his Nikon wet dream, and a trip to Debenhams fer me to get some smelly stuff. Then, Burger King, a half-hour chill in the house, and we headed up to meet the Aussie in the Big Shmoke. Once I'd poured us a large measure each to get the day going
   
5. And a Smirnoff Ice was had on the way.
   
6. Once we got there, I was under instructions to ring EB and confirm time and place, but it was difficult to do in Leicester Square (lots of people around -- very busy, that place...)
7. Our rendezvous point was the chain pub at the bottom of the square, with the two Nottingham girls (who are officially great craic). This was about 6pm. But even only two lads couldn't get in by themselves. We had to have girls with us (a complaint letter is seriously brewing about this -- about time being a lord got some dividend). So in the end we got A to come out and vouch for the fact that we were to be in a mixed group.
8. Then the drink was on. The idea, it seemed, was to be in there until about 8, when the two girls were heading over til Chinatown to meet some friends for food, and we were invited. Anyway we had a table (til just after 8) and the craic was ninety. Plus meself and LS had a barman to pest over and annoy, which was very good fer the mood. A's mates were late turning up, but eventually they called to say they were close by and we met them outside the car park in Chinatown.
9. Things then got decidedly weird. There wasn't a great deal of explanation as to who we were meeting, and when we did meet them, I assumed we'd bumped into some randoms as they were Chinese by parentage. Also, I was nicely toasted by this stage. We followed A into a restaurant, where we got a table fer 10 upstairs. LS then whinged about the strangeness of the food (ironically, given his penchant fer the local Chinese buffet near his house) and I associated the general quiteness with his comments. In retrospect, I don't, as there was a weird mood going on in general. The Chinese-speaking bloke to my immediate right was having none of my conversation, which started to bother me, and the rest of their mates barely spoke. The non-innnocent Aussie later put it down to chemicals (entirely possible). Whatever was going on, it sobered us three eejits up no end. Thinking our last train home was at 9 past midnight, we ate casually until I took the head-staggers and checked on the mobile internet. It claimed otherwise, so we finished up (not unhappily on my part), paid for our share at the counter, had a wazz (very important before a later train ride home) and darted for the Watherloo. As it turns out the 00:09 train was our last option, but it was the slow train.
10. Whether catching the fast one half an hour before was a blessing or not depends on how much you can't stand the smell of vomit in a closed carriage. Ten minutes into the journey, a lad three rows behind our table seat gave everyone pause for this thought. I managed okay, but the Aussie was having very little luck in concentrating on his Indypedia Part 1, although he was convinced an middle-aged man was going to kick off... Anyroad, the craic from everyone around the incident was very good, and we all had our say on the subject. Fortunately it was a fast train, so the agony lasted less than an hour, and there was carpet, not fluid-carrying plastic which would've let everyone's feet have a share. Nice.
    
11. There were also rumours that another vomming incident had occurred just beyond the other end of the carriage, as half a dozen late-teenage lads informed us. They'd been trying to escape it when they ran into the smell carnage behind us. Trapped, when we were between Woking and home, they stopped to talk shite with ourselves (i.e. LS noticed them and got chatting).
12. The audible relief of everyone getting off the train at Guildford was almost deafening. We walked home as fast as we could. LS was off the booze, he'd decided, and the Aussie and I only made a perfunctory dent in the bottle of vodka which had staggeringly survived from the previous night.
13. After I could see the craic was fizzling out, I went upstairs to the remaining bed in the spare room, and phoned EB. Fer an hour...

1. Sunday arrived earlier than I was quite ready for, but I switched on the radio on the stereo I'd brought into the spare room and answered the backlog of messages from EB. I avoided the reality of doing anything until about midday by leaving the phone in "I'm asleep" mode. I rang EB, who informed me he'd been up since 7:00 (a.m.... I know...) in a haze of nervous excitement about meeting face-to-face. This did nothing for my levels of calm, but I said I'd get there for mid-afternoon. He then gave me a page's worth of directions on how to get to their local where I could park.
   
2. I then abused LS until he made an attempt to fix my bed. This attempt only resulted in showing up the fact that the spine attachment to the bed frame was fucked at both ends: it had just given way at the top earlier.
3. I had no time for this complication, as I was due to head off to Essex at 2:00, and getting increasingly pissed off with any obstructions, so I instructed LS to come back with some proper tools -- not to try and prop the bed up with just magazines. I'm holding him to this task, incidentally.
4. Anyway, I showered and shaved, dropped the idea of doing anything metrosexual, ironed my favourite shirt, and made ready to leave. LS and the Aussie kindly donated a pound each for the Dartford crossing as I ironed, while they partook of a bacon sandwich brunch. Eventually, at 14:27, I drove off. Nervous as hell.
5. The M25 wasn't too bad all the way, and I rang EB from near Reigate to apologise for my shit planning. There were, apparently, a lot of police around, and I wondered if LordStoppers hadn't been tipped off by Neilo (anything's possible). But it turned out they weren't there to arrest him, so I continued with my speedy journey. When I got to Chelmsford on the A12, the first set of directions didn't at all match up with what he'd told me, so that immediately threw me into dad-in-dublin mode: grumpy and anxious. Add to this the ongoing suspicion that EB would run a mile when he saw me in real life (as he pointed out, all my photos make me look different), and I was not a happy camper
6. After asking two people for directions (the first person was just wrong -- there was no right turn at the roundabout; the second was deranged and left no gaps between his words, so I just gave up on him), I eventually recognised a key phrase on a road sign, and followed it on a hunch. It was a good one, and I was suddenly on track with EB's directions. And very happy. It was approaching 4:00 when I got to the car park, and once I'd stopped I rang him and he said he'd be round in two minutes. Two of the longest minutes of my life, but that's probably no surprise eh? I'd got him to send some pictures of himself by MMS, so I knew what he looked like, but eventually around the corner came this very well dressed guy, with black hair, blond tip highlights, pinstripe jacket checked t-shirt and thin jumper and white trousers that very few people can carry off.
   
7. (He told me later that he'd tried strutting on his way over, but it hadn't quite worked and he'd tumbled slightly, to the amusement of some woman walking the same direction as him).
8. Anyway, being suave and sophisticated, I had an etiquette panic and neither kissed him nor shook his hand: I just nudged him slightly with my left shoulder and said "Nice to meet you, finally!". We crossed the road and went to the pub.
9. He got us each a drink inside, and we went out to the beer garden, where we slowly got the measure of the pace each other was ready for in the conversation. It got a bit nippy quite soon so we ducked inside in search of heat and found ourselves standing near the door. When a real fitty (as the Aussie would say) walked in in a birthday-dare PVC dress, I made a mental note not to perve. (I was on duty, I realised: this could be tricky!) Besides, I was actually really attracted to who I was talking to. EB is really my type: slim, slightly tanned, and very very cute face. So ignoring distractions wasn't so hard.
10. After drink number 4, we noticed a free sofa and made a bee-line for it. I'd texted LS and the Aussie both, at various stages as we EB and I had been seat-less, and while he'd been in the gents, to say I thought things were going well but couldn't be sure. When we got sitting down, he seemed to relax a bit and I'd probably calmed down somewhat too. Slowly we got comfy around each other and he started to smile a bit more. I went to the gents and joked by text that I couldn't find a window to crawl out of, as he'd been paranoid that I'd run at the first chance I got (same for you, I thought), and when I came back he said that two of his housemates were coming round to join us. I sort of relaxed and thought that if he was going to back out, then this is when he'd do it and I'd be ready. When he asked how many drinks I'd had, and saw that I was over the limit, I thought that was a hint and made plans to stay for a few hours in the pub on soft drinks if he left me and then drive home that night.
11. His two mates turned up, and they were really good craic. One followed me up to the bar (EB suspects she was trying to chat me up -- I'm usually oblivious to advances from girls, so who knows?), but I chatted to her while the drinks were served and then went back to join himself on the sofa.
12. He seemed glad they'd arrived, and when the craic was flowing again, I summoned up some courage and made some contact. When he didn't flinch and run a mile, I finally exhaled. Still not sure whether (let alone where) things were going, I just enjoyed the chat between them all, and relaxed a bit more. He shot me a couple of foxy looks over the next half an hour, and towards the end of drink number 6, he nudged me and said under his breath "come on, drink up -- I'm taking you home"
13. I left yesterday at a quarter to three, and the rest is personal ;o)

(* Last year I met the beautiful and brilliant Chris. Then promptly fucked up my chances with him over the following days by trying to be too cool. But I'll learn (eventually). Anyway, it was an amazing night out with himHe was the first guy I ever kissed, and it was a setup. Initially I could've killed Fraser for sneaking Chris into the proceedings, but I could've kissed him in the end. Had I not been otherwise engaged.)

Pandora-dox?

Somehow, Pandora just decided to go from the blissfully relaxed Traffic in the Sky by Jack Johnson, to It's A Small World (Shorty Remix) (also something to do with Disney, according to the cover??) by the Baha Men.

Buh?

Thank god I could skip it, and it dutifully returned Higher Than by Paul Michel.

Sanity, along with the weekend, is restored.

And now it's all fine

Orange have fixed the situation...

god — how much of a girl did I just sound? Maybe I should just hand in my testicles at the nearest counter...?

Actually, no — hoping I'll need them ;o)

Stunning

One of the most stunning people I have ever spoken to in my life apparently thinks I'm not that bad either.

And now Orange have blocked my service, despite my bill having been paid in full. And he thinks I'm not texting him because I'm ignoring him.

My heart feels like stopping.

Half an hour ago

On the way in to work, I passed a horse and the girl riding it was on her mobile.

I don't know why this made me laugh but it did.

Great Pandora Day

Some seriously good tunes from the past and some I'd not heard before.

Favourite of the day is Hey Casanova by Duncan Sheik.

That is all.

Survival Beats

Right, now that Blogger is publishing again (for a while, I thought it was quality control that was stopping it from accepting my posts yesterday!), the song I'm currently obssessed with is La Ritournelle by Sebastien Tellier. Was one of the tracks that made me buy The Weekend (see previous posting with a track listing), but it's on the last disc. I knew I'd liked the song, but couldn't for the life of me work out how it went. Now I know and am happy.

Also, the Youngest's iPod should be with her in less than 90 minutes. Very excited to see what she makes of it.

FIN

Quick Test

As Blogger's not been republishing so far today....

Monday: things done

• Posted the iPod shuffle to Youngest. She will now get it one day late. But still think she'll like it.
• This was despite the most massivest queue in the Post Office.
• Also got her card in record time
• Stopped off at Starbucks on the way back to the car and got meself a venti mocha
• This, all despite a vodka hangover which almost made me "work from home" today
• Got into work at the crack of ten-past-noon.
• That is all
  

Perseus cluster

I haven't been back to Astronomy Picture of the Day (APOD) for months, and I happened upon it in an old bookmarks folder yesterday. I've had the Brazillian flag as my desktop for ages, but I really liked this picture (left). Looks like a dream. Even though the view is completely, different, it reminds me of the full moon-lit view from my old bedroom window, out across the river and towards The South™. Anyway, just thought I'd pass the picture on. In other news, these two-day weeks aren't the most productive. But at least I'm getting some e-mithers fired off.

Also, I am now poor, having bought the Youngest's 21^st birthday present on Wednesday. Hope she likes it/can use it! eep...

You're playing catch-up

... So I'll do a recent-happenings update later this week/this weekend.

Meantime, something that's keeping me chilled this morning/afternoon/pre-lunch/whatever: The Weekend Volume 2: The Morning After (well, the morning after a 7-day weekend, eh?)

1. Basement Jaxx - Romeo (Acoustic)
2. Jose Gonzalez - Heartbeats
3. Modjo - Lady (Hear Me Tonight) (Lounge Mix)
4. I Monster - Daydream in Blue
5. Ian Brown - F.E.A.R.
6. Lemon Jelly - 95 Aka Make Things Right
7. Sebastien Tellier - La Ritournelle
8. Barefoot - Born Slippy
9. Badly Drawn Boy - the Shining
10. Zero 7 - Destiny
11. Nuyorican Soul - I Am the Black Gold of the Sun
12. Amillionsons - Misti Blu
13. The Orb - Blue Room
14. Dna Feat. Suzanne Vega - Tom's Diner
15. DJ Shadow - What Does Your Soul Look Like
16. Freemasons Feat Amanda Wilson - Love on My Mind
17. Nizlopi - JCB Song

After the way...

...these last ten-or-so days have gone, I don't feel too weird about posting at 5:17 in the morning. I'd also forgotten how much I love Beaucoup Fish by Underworld... That's more of an aside.

Anyway, brief recap, more of a prompt for future entries.

Last Sat: a setup in Kingston O'Neill's

Wed: a trip to Brighton

Tonight (Fri): Stopping in with LS while the Aussie went out with the usual suspects.

Right now: not knowing where my head's at.

I'd like a normal life now, please. Ah feck -- that's not on the cards, is it?

And Neilo's at home this week. Good luck, great mate</comedy dave>

The Easter Funny

The Irish RM sent this around as an Easter greeting. I liked it</Louis Walsh>

Why I LOVE Pandora radio

It's pulled a few belters out of the hat today, but I had to take my hat off — it's produced All I Need by Air and U2's Stay in the last fifteen minutes.

Amazing...! It's put me in such a nice mood :o)

R�d Tryp: The Album

Just to post what helped keep me sane on the way to Wales. What I'm really enjoying is that three of the tracks were bought through iTunes, and two of those were purpose-bought for the trip. Yay!

Last Summer	Lost Prophets
Seaside	Ordinary Boys
Pioneers	Bloc Party
Crosses	Jose Gonzalez
Miss You	Blink 182
Heartbeats	Jose Gonzalez
Naive	The Kooks
Two More Years	Bloc Party
Hung Up (Tracy Young's Get Up And Dance Groove Edit)	Madonna
Good Time	A
Bongo Bong	Manu Chao
Toxic Girl	Kings of Convenience
Genie in a Bottle	Christina Aguilera
Inside of Love	Nada Surf
Hey Don't Falter	Mint Royale feat. Lauren Laverne
Pounding	Doves
On and On	Longpigs
Where Is the Love	Black Eyed Peas feat. Justin Timberlake
The New Radicals	You Get What You Give

Blast from the not-so-distant past

Four weeks ago (almost), my face looked like this. It hurt.

This was due to the erroneous piggy-back offering I did with no sense of balance or appreciation of LS's rather considerable mass. He'd punch me if I didn't point out that he has a very low body fat percentage, so he's not fat. That's that legal requirement taken care of.

Anyway, just wanted to prove that I'd been injured. The second near-concussion incident to be documented soon. That was only one week ago... brilliant.

Slight Return

Got back from Wales lastnight about 20:20 — that's time, not vision — that's getting checked out along with signs of concussion this afternoon. i'm done with worrying and gettings side-tracked and placated in an off-hand fashion. Need to know if anything's up.

I'll post more on the trip later, in Slight Return: the return.

R�d Tryp

Well, today is Mother's Day, and I'm about to make the 250-mile trip to Pemrbokeshire to see Mum & Dad, who are spending the week there in a holiday flat.

It's a bit of a trek, but yesterday I hand-washed, then jet-washed the plan B. Ashamedly, for the first time in the 11 months that I've had it.

Ahem.

Anyway, made myself a CD specially for the trip lastnight, after a power nap, and hoping it'll play on the Plan B's stereo. Blaming iTunes if it doesn't.

Hoping to make it down there about 8 pm. Lucie recommends Leigh de la Mere Services, so going to stop there and a couple of other services on the way over. Then a few different ones on the way back up. This is a very weird and dad-like curiosity I seem to be developing, but feck it.

Wish me luck!

Jagwatch 3 & 4

Jagwatch's Thursday & Friday reports

(Synopsis: successful, and good-kind of interesting (respectively))

Thursday report

uneventful.
So uneventful, in fact, and surrounded by other goings on, that I can't find my report notes, so I'll just sum it up as a success.

Friday report

2:35 JDT (still presuming this is PM to the Jag)
(This is the interesting bit. )
Turned key in the ignition. Noticed the central locking noise for the first time. Raised eyebrow. Wondered a little. Turned it again as I'd seemed to lock it rather than open it. Entered XJS with less grace than hoped for. Blaming the blue Focus parked at a wonky angle on the right.

2:36 JDT
Turned ignition. Yadda yadda yadda...

2:38 JDT
Rued lack of reading material.

2:39 JDT
Contemplated wisdom of agreeing on a Friday evening chat with Len. Quickly arrived at the obvious conclusion.

2:40 JDT
Tried to ring a mate as I was bored. No answer. Frowned.

2:41 JDT
Rang my folks to see if they'd arrived in their holiday flat in Wales. After much ringing, then much rustling after pressing "answer", finally got speaking to parents. Had been a nasty sailing. Although largely an upright one. This is irrelevant.

2:45 JDT
Turned off XJS engine.

2:48 JDT
Hung up on pre-occupied parents.

2:49 JDT
Un-entered XJS. Again noticed central locking noise. This made me happy.

Re: re-tax

When the DVLA say "bo-selecta"

Got the Plan B re-taxed this morning. Slightly wangled a good thing, in that it'll now run out at the end of August. Which should tie in with the move to the Old Ah-So.

We'll see...

Anyway, this was all after getting til the Spectrum at 7:15 to discover there was no swimming for another 15 minutes.

And so it was that impatient wrong decisions raised their head twice this morning.

The first was to go to the gym, as I didn't fancy waiting around for 15 minutes. I should've. It was knackering doing that stuff first thing in the morning, and on a completely empty stomach. Swimming, I don't mind. Gym? Insane. Never again.

Anyway, I abbreviated the routine so I could a) get to the sauna, and b) get out of there at a reasonable time. By the time I was dressed again, it was ten to nine. This old guy on the other side of the locker was moaning, so I asked if he was okay. Cold sweats, he said. I asked if he wanted to call someone; he said I could. I called someone. The only bloke there was one of the newbies. Quite cute, but a bit clueless. Anyway, by the time he'd accompanied me back to the gents' changing, one of the man's friends had joined him, and was talking to him. I finished getting changed, but with a watchful eye on proceedings. His friend said he'd take him home. I offered to drive him over to Royal Surrey, but his friends was keen to get him back home, it seemed.

I do wonder about stuff like this. I trod a thin line between being concerned and being privacy-invasive last time, and I was wary of doing this again. But I hate not knowing that someone's going to be okay.

Anyway, after all this, I got into the Plan B and resolved to go via Cranleigh, as the PO would be open now. Bad idea. I should have gone via work. I spent 23 minutes travelling less than a mile into town. One set of roadworks near a crucial junction, and that fucked everything up! But I was still determined not to get angry.

If only because it'd use up the remaining energy I had — I was already yawning!

As usual, on the eve of re-taxing my car, I flew around the whole house trying to find my documents. Only to find them "somewhere safe" as J would say. Was midnight (not 10:30pm) by the time I got to bed, so 6 hours sleep didn't quite cut the mustard. Anyway, that mad dash was nerve-wracking and drained the last of my energy for the night. BUT, I still win on the old schedule thing, 'cos I've got up early for the last four days.

Even if I can't actually function today.

Which is a shame, as Len's just been in to see me about EIS. It begins...

Still, going to try and get away from here about 5:00.

Good luck everybody!

V for Victory Delusions

I've probably pushed myself a bit too far these last few days. Gym on Tuesday night and lastnight, and swimming yesterday morning and this morning.

Can't help thinking I might break something, but you know me — obsessive in fits and starts. If I drop out of it now, I'll find the momentum hard to pick up again.

Having said that, I'm thinking of giving myself tonight off to go and see V for Vendetta. It's one of those films I really want to see in das Kino, and particularly not with the Aussie giving me his opinion of what's going to happen next rather than just watching and finding out. That would cause me to kill him, and I don't want to do that, as I rather like the guy...

And also, I don't want to wait too much longer before loads of people see it and tell me what happens. That would suck...



Oh yeah, and I've decided I want to be in good shape (internally and externally) for the Isle of Wight this year.

Better start going to the gym NINE times a day!!!

*arms fall off*

Jagwatch 2

Jagwatch's Wednesday report

(Synopsis: successful)

1:08 JDT (Jaguar Dashboard Time; presumably PM?)
entered XJS after a slight balancing challenge with a cuppa, a pen and way too much paper. Tea spillage was completely avoided

*hides mop-up rag*

Turned ignition.
Managed to keep foot on accelerator in a steady, comfortable position. And not drive into wall.

1:09 JDT
Played for a few seconds with the "move seat back'n'forth" switches. Giggled at thought of Whirrock-san trying to get into seat calibrated to my leg length.

1:10 JDT
Read an e-mail from those RAL types and another from Len, the latter of which confused me. Thought, "that probably doesn't bode well for the mission..."

1:14 JDT
Noticed a slight fluctuation of about 50-70 RPM around the 1200 RPM mark, despite an (assumed) steady foot pressure. Assumption was based on me wedging my foot into the corner of the footwell with all (well, actually only a little) of my might.

1:18 JDT
Disignited engine. Unmounted car. Keyified lock. Walkified back inside.

--
dave

Reminiscence

It can also be of negative thoughts. Which is why this post from Desolation Row made me chuckle.

http://desolaterow.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-hate-other-place.html

Why's that? It's because he's entirely right (although I wasn't a regular at Vincent's and can't comment on the crossword).

Tee hee

(P.S. Just about to go off and do Jagwatch now. Teatime!)

Ow...

Okay, my left shoulder now hurts.

This is probably the result of me being too ambitious in my fitness efforts. Namely, gym lastnight (reduced/more cardiovascular workout, as I wanted to get home at a decent hour, i.e., for the OC on E4+1) plus swim this morning at 7:10. 20 lengths in just over 20 minutes, so I'm pretty happy with that.

However, my left shoulder now hurts.

Seeing the folks for a couple of days from this Sunday, as they're in Pembs from Friday to Friday. It's basically going to take the place of an Easter visit, as I was potentially going to the old Ah-So on Easter Sunday.

However, I'm now contemplating what to do for Easter Sunday for the first time in my life. Mum's suggested coming home anyway, as the EasyJet tickets were reasonable on Sunday, but I think that's probably a fading option </procrastination> and anyway, she'll be over in May for a stay at Aggy. The two downsides are

1. that I won't see the girls for a while. But Youngest graduates in July, and I might engineer a trip home in the interim anyway;
   
2. that I'll miss out on the possibility of Paddy's sister's wedding do in the Great Northern. Hmmm...
   

Options, eh...? Who needs'em.

The other Easter weekend possibility is Breakin' Science, but I don't know how badly I want to go. The Aussie will probably force my hand, and the craic will probably be good, but I don't know if I can afford all the associated excess. Moan, grumble, whinge, etc.

Anyway, I'll pick an option this week, I fink.

Ow...

I'd forgotten how much...

...I loved Gene.

Who were in the Live Lounge, of course, the day I manned the phones. With hilarious colour-blind consequences...

Anyway, it's cos I've just been listening to this on my Pandora Radio station. Fantastic record. Makes you want to puff out your chest! Can't explain why — just does.

Jagwatch

An e-mail to the Whillock:

Jagwatch's Tuesday report

(Synopsis: successful)

12:28 JDT (Jaguar Dashboard Time)
entered XJS

12:29 JDT
Turned ignition. Immediately realised the extent of the stalling problem and applied foot a bit more readily to the accelerator (or whatever they call it in automatic land) and cheerfully failed to drive into the wall. Sat with a cup of tea and read some e-mails I'd printed out.

12:33 JDT
Decided that you can't have the car back when you return as I've just found the world's most perfect thinking spot.

12:35 JDT
Resolved to buy a pipe and some loose tobacco.

12:39 JDT
Ceased thinking, turned ignition off, and dismounted from XJS.

--
dave

L� Fh�ile Ph�draig

Steve, off of the Official Chart Show, snaps Neilo in the much-coveted Official Guinness Hat.

(Note the tell-tale bottle of wine for Emma and the BGD in the foreground.)

In the Shameless pub, St Patrick's Day 2006.

Happy St Paddy's!

This is the soberest I'm going to be over the next 24-hour period.

And, appropriately, I got a phonecall from Paddy at 7:47 this evening, inviting me to his sister's post-wedding do in Bundoran! Except I might not be in Ireland at the time. We'll see, sure.

In other news reminiscences (also, that use of <strike> makes me think of You Sure Do</random>), this time last year was meself and Neilo's first night in the Dublin, after his folks had popped down to pay a visit while he was on the Island. Hard to believe that the green hair was so long ago. Unless we can score some more green hurspray in Boots...

And I'm so pleased I'm taking today off...

Rendez-vousing in the Traditional at Waterloo at 3:30 pm. Hopefully Neilo's Herself will be able to make it, as I was probably drunk and very un-charming when I met her before... Naturally, St Paddy's Day is the day to make amends for such behaviour, Dave.

Also, notice ye the Pandora Favo(u)rites listing on the right. Very happy they're doing this.

I have listened to my first ever iTunes download a total of 1 times. That'll be the Nytol, then.

ATH!

Think the Nytol's kicking in...

...So you wouldn't be able to see the joy on my face. But I've just bought my first ever song off of iTunes!!

i'm also drifting off and typing very erraticaly. SEe?

Familiar misfortune

Right, if I'm self-medicating correctly, I've got about 16 minutes before the Nytol I've just taken kicks in and I get a good night's sleep, before going to the gym to try out the Aussie's theory that it makes days more gooder. The goign to the gym, etc. bit isn't on the pack, by the way. That's just a dangerous side-effect of my faddy personality.

So, in news... Yesterday I was probably the most gutted I've been in years. I was stuck in a telecon meeting that — frankly — I didn't need to be there for. Therefore, I missed out on Neilo's spare ticket to see the Moyles/Fearne/Vernon recording of FAMILY FORTUNES.

I'm still getting over it.

Me and my nan used to watch that show in her bungalow in the Max Bygraves and Les Dennis days. And, in later years, the Jones family from Swansea had me and Clur in tears with their repeated answer of "Beans!" to some question. (Probably something mentally stretching like "name a food that comes in a can").

Ah, memories... So, I went to the Spectrum, hit all the bits and pieces a bit harder than usual, and then came home and ranted to Age. The Eenglish, however, missed the whole point. And gave me a resistors problem to deal with. Which I did, and that cheered me up. Feck, I'm such a geek...

Anyway tonight, forewent the gym plan, as I thought we were going to the cinema. That didn't happen, but there we are. I'll learn to be more suspicious of such plans. Friday, however, is now off "for cultural reasons", and tomorrow Mr Milligan is over, looking for my job, cheeky shite. Actually, it won't be mine in a few weeks, but for now I can condescend. Hopefully, I'm not giving all the tours. I've suggested a rota for doing such things.

It's really starting to hit home, now, how real this Japanese thing is. I'm really going. Like, Really.

However, I at least had a chat with the Boss Lady on Monday about salary and otehr arrangements. Living costs are good, and there's money for a good laptop. So, I'm hoping, I'm going to get myself one of those there intel MacBook Pros! Then, I'll hopefully either become a real person, or a special person!

At least I pushed her to see if we could afford one. Hooray for minor but self-bigging-up victories!

The Ice Bar off Regent Street

DSC00012-01
Originally uploaded by finassy.

One of the better pics from last Saturday's escapades! :o)

(P.S. Not much posting this week, but planning to rectumfy that this weekend.)

You try not to be a twat...

...but you end up sounding like one anyway.

I really should've spent a lot longer on that e-mail.

DSC00135-01

DSC00135-01
Originally uploaded by finassy.

Me, Sperm (aka Fraser) and Neilo, in the Waxy's. All cut.

Angel Delight

Neilo sent me a link to the Sponsored Tube Map yesterday, which has had me chuckling every since. It's close to replacing my actual tube map (which is in too awkward a place for me to easily read anyway, but that's not the point). Then, in a moment of self-appointed break two minutes ago, I noticed what Angel Gate had been replaced by: Angel Delight! (click on it for an article charting its rise, fall and rise).

What fantastic memories! I always think of having them in those little desert bowls on stems, with a glacé cherry on top — because that was the serving suggestion on the ads and on the packet, and hence must be the law — very exciting. Memories of when we still lived in Narberth. Youngest wasn't even born then... blimey...

She's just texted me to say I woke her up with my reminder for presents lastnight, but that she's sent a card.

Hurcut's at 3pm. Good luck everybody!

Me am 29!

In such a good mood today. The weather's promising to be a typical birthday day (mild early spring day, with sunshine), which always reminds me of playing football on my birthday at 16 — bearing in mind I hated playing when I was younger — and having a brilliant time. There was a really good bunch of guys in that class, and looking back on it, they gave me a lot of confidence.

Anyway, started off the GMT day listening to Bell X1's Snakes and Snakes, which is rapidly becoming one of my favourite songs of all time, even if the lyrics don't necessarily reflect the mood I'm in ("All this serves to tell me, is maybe there's no ladders in this game at all") and just got in to work about 20 minutes ago, and Pandora Radio played me Junkie XL feat. Saffron Crusher, which is a cracking record. Another record</Hi, I'm old> I'm particularly enjoying at the moment is the All-American Rejects' Move Along. In part, because it reminds me of "Move On!", but that's just my head. Mostly it's because of the tune. But especially, like half the feckin country, it seems, there's Gnarls Barkley. Which I spent about a month thinking was spelt "Niles", off of Frasier. There we are....

In short, then, today's plan is to take it easy. The main reason I'm in such a good mood is that I finally got over the hump of the TRACE UV calibration problem lastnight about 8:00, so I now have relatively calibrated sequence of 1600 Å images, which I can start to think about overlaying on MDI. Anyway, enough detail. Basically, I was going to get in early, then thought fuck-it</Malcolm Hardee> and gave meself an hour's lie-in. Moyles's show was brilliant, with loads of what felt like birthday quirks. Even Fatima Whitbread being on made me smile, 'cos I know we share a birthday!

Off to see about booking a fancy hurcut, and this afternoon I plan to get some decent underwear. A not-entirely-unconnected fact is that, during tomorrow's drink in the Big Shmoke (organised by Claire off of Simon off of Adrian, so I've relinquished most of my claim on the birthday celebrations), the Aussie has engineered — against my wishes — a blind date. I say against my wishes because I have to go to LS's birthday drinks anyway, so inviting someone he wants to hook me up with is especially underhand, I think. Plus, we have to dress up to make sure we can get into some places Claire has in mind, so I won't be feeling like I'm looking my best. Ach, feck-it</Malcolm O'Hardee>. I'm going to go up and enjoy myself whatever happens!

Back til the good mood now, though. Got movies to make, and hurcuts to try and book.

Happy Birthday to anyone else who's 29 today.

Top of the Rollercoaster

So, here it is. The last day of me being 28.

Which means tomorrow, I'm 29. It's the start of the rollercoaster towards 30, which — as we all know — is code for "Gay Death". Or, at least, that's what it feels like. Pish.

However, the glass is half-full (unlike meself this coming Saturday, as I hope to be entirely full), so I'm still in my twenties, and will be til I (hopefully) leave the country. Hence, I'm planning on making the best of it.

In other news, things are moving remarkably quickly in life.

I'm thrilled to report that the Cullybackey Man is staying in the US (which means I can go and visit later in the year, maybe May?), and is getting a place with M.

In a parallel manoeuvre, things sound like they're going brilliantly well for Neilo and his lady, and he's talking about them getting their own place in the Greenwich.

So it's the top of the rollercoaster for a lot of us. Or, to put it another way, "It's a very exciting time!"</MG>

Saturday has now been combined with a blind date, all beyond my control, which I'm understandably nervous about. So meself and LS are going to get some fancy schmancy birthday/smarten-up hurcuts done on Friday.

And finally, seeing as I'm adding scattered thoughts... As I was slowly drifting off to sleep lastnight, I mentally walked through and around my Nan's old house, Aweldêg. I've not done something like that for a while, and I'm not entirely sure where it came from. Just been thinking about her more recently since I found that letter from her for my 21st birthday. Discuss...

Maybe not, eh?

Anyway, best crack on....