tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29597744128830574062024-02-07T02:46:09.984+00:00My copied DVDs from the Philippines don't workSMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.comBlogger94125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-91575884013462087702009-10-08T10:25:00.001+00:002009-10-08T10:28:09.436+00:00More of that Swine Sods LawThe marathon training was done – id flipped through my book of motivations while battling various emotions on a damp Tuesday evening and completed a 22 mile slog around the outskirts of Plymouth. My watch read 2:53:59 – the dream of a sub 3:30 was alive. The train was pulling into the station named Job Done when it got derailed by the smallest of pebbles on the track.<br /><br />Turning a corner on my bike, the tyre met with some wet concrete and moved sideways instead forwards. I tumbled to the ground, my hands breaking most of my fall as they jarred through the gravel, my hip hitting hard into the cold ground while my legs still straddled the bike. In amongst the adrenaline I didn’t notice a cut in my ankle and failed to clean away the germ harbouring mud from the opening wound.<br />It got infected, as they do. My ankle is swollen up, the skin tight around the now all too obvious hole. I woke up the same night with flu symptoms as the bacteria swarmed in my blood exploring their new home. A few days later the Doc gave me some antibiotics and assurances that it should be fine in a week – three days before we line up on the course in Istanbul.<br /><br />But there are more worries. My housemate, who is a constant sniffler at the best of times, thinks he has got swine flu. I have my doubts – I think it’s a very easy way to get a week off work; you log on the website, you tick the box saying you have a sudden cough and tick the box saying you have a fever and they load up a screen saying you might have swine flu stay at home. I don’t know what this flu is like – but my experience of having flu once put me in bed for 3 solid days. I wasn’t coughing and spluttering around the house in my pants watching TV all day. OK it’s a share house – it comes with the territory, but the timing is bad. Even worse is his annoying bird, Mute, who has stayed at the house 100% of the time with the intention of catching it herself. OK, great, if that’s what you want to do then go for it – but not in my house! Her having it at least doubles the chances of me catching it too – which would under normal service be very inconvenient, but with the marathon looming is bordering on making me quite angry. She’s got ‘it’ now of course – I went to get her Tamiflu for her from boots this morning. Ive got a cough, and feel weird now and again but I think and hope it’s related to the 4 grams of penicillin I’m popping every day. My housemate, of course suggests that ive probably got it too – to which I said Ive got a cold - If I had flu id be in bed not wanting to move. There is some tension; I think the house has run its course. <br /><br />Maybe.<br /><br />It will all be fine just so long as my ankle recovers and I don’t get swine flu, a cold or anything else right before I set off for Turkey. That would make me upset.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-20691331280323756922009-08-17T13:20:00.002+00:002009-08-17T13:32:47.448+00:00MarathonSome good friends and my good self have decided to enter the <a href="http://www.istanbulmarathon.org/en/">Istanbul marathon</a>. It is on Sunday the 18th October. I still have 2 more triathlons to complete, as part of the <a href="http://www.trienglandsw.org/SWSeries/tabid/443/language/en-US/Default.aspx">South West Series</a>, so it is difficult to find time to fit in all the training, and even more difficult to cut out all the drinking. My swimming, in particular, has been neglected for much of the summer, with only really the fortnightly open water sessions at the club to mention. Cycling, too, has been more infrequent than I would like, but I have busted out some good interval sessions on the gym Wattbikes.<br /><br />Running has been a bit more consistent, with lots of good runs found on the coast paths and around Dartmoor. This weekend I did 10K of speed work on the Saturday, then a 14 mile run on Sunday. The 10K was up to Central park, 4x 500m sprints and then jog back. I wish id put on my heart rate monitor as I was 100% ruined at the end. The long run was up on the <a href="http://www.urban75.org/photos/devon/plym-valley-way.html">Plym Valley Cycleway</a> – a route I have only just discovered after K took me on a bike ride up there. It follows the old train line up onto Dartmoor, so is a very gradual uphill for 7 miles until you reach the village of Clearbrook, then a small loop and back the same way. You don’t really notice the uphill until you turn around, but my return time was 6 mins better than the out. Both ways it includes the very dark Shaugh tunnel where you end up running very fast and pretending that youre being chased by an alien, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HKX3Y1n-_xQ">a la Alien 3</a>. Well, I did.<br /><br />The marathon itself is marketed as the only in the world where you run on 2 continents – you start in Asia, and run across the bridge into Europe. Sounds good, hopefully my legs will stand up to the training.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-35533116128132598352009-06-12T12:11:00.001+00:002009-06-12T12:13:55.283+00:00The law of SodI am taking a break from writing a presentation to write about the law of Sod. I spent about 4 hours yesterday afternoon stuck alone in my office as the summer sun baked the outside revellers to contentment. I was going through some graphs and putting asterisks and small font letters next to error bars to indicate which blocks of colour were ‘significantly’ different from others. I’d done the stats wrongly, of course, I don’t think you can ever do stats 100% correctly, but ive realised this morning that id done them badly enough to mean that I have to do them all again this morning. Oh great.<br /><br />The presentation is for a conference im going to in Glasgow in a few weeks which is where the law of sod comes in. Back in the depths of winter, 5 friends convinced to come on a sailing holiday with them this summer. None of us really sail, but two of the six had recently been awarded their ‘day skipper’ or something licences, and so wanted to be skipper for a few days. We booked to go to Greece this coming Saturday for a week. All good. Then a few months ago my boss mentions a conference she wants us to talk at, and mentions the week after the holiday booking. All good again I think, a week in the sun, then a week up in Glasgow to continue the not working. A few weeks later the details start to emerge, and it becomes apparent that the conference actually starts on the Sunday. Really? I think, that’s a bit silly isn’t it? Still, the chances of my talk being put on the Sunday are quite small, especially with my boss’s influence on the organising panel. I check the flight times back from Greece and we arrive late Saturday night. Then I get my talk date through and its not only on the Sunday, but Sunday morning. This strikes me with a little bit of panic. I check the flight times to Glasgow. The latest flight out is 9.20pm. Not enough time. I check the morning flights, and again, not enough time. I check the night trains, and while one exists, you have to get off the train at Birmingham for 6 hours, so it isn’t really much of a night train and more of an evening and then morning train. My last hope before contemplating driving up through the night is the good old night bus. Great stuff, I think, as I book a £34 single from Heathrow to Glasgow. The best conference talk preparation I can imagine is sitting next to some Glaswegian Trainspotting impersonator for 9 hours as i try to sleep with one eye open. Then ive got 3 hours to get showered and changed and answer difficult questions on a difficult subject I don’t fully understand. Can’t wait.<br /><br />But I don’t really care too much, as its holiday time next week.<br /><br />Back to the graphs.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-24682092402847774922009-06-04T10:25:00.003+00:002009-06-04T10:35:39.027+00:00Blockbusters beginThe sun, and summer blockbuster season has begun in anger. I sat watching Terminator Salvation last night with the warmth of some mild sunburn combating the over eager air-conditioning in screen nine of Vue Plymouth. That’s the biggest screen, which makes the films far more impressive if they’re the blowing things up after a chase or fight type of affair. The new Startrek was good in there, Terminator similar, Transformers Revenge of the Fallen hopefully too, but they’re all a bit too predictable - heavy on the effects and light on the subtleties. And it’s the little things that matter right? The Hollywood bods are trying to cater for everyone at 70%, which is great, but comes at the expense that no one is ever going to love it at a hundred. But it’s probably not as simple as that. Terminator suffered from the plot ‘twist’ being obvious from the first scene – the ‘Cyberdyne systems’ headed paper that Marcus signs makes it clear what his fate is if you’re any sort of a fan of the franchise. And with that removed, there’s not much of a story to get attached to. There was also some really annoying dialog where people stated what was happening on screen just to make it doubly clear what was happening on screen, which I had already got because I was in the cinema watching what was happening on screen. I also struggled with Bale’s voice, much like in Batman, which he seemed to over gruff to the point of sounding like a 40-a-day granddad in some scenes. It was good fun overall though. I enjoyed the nods to the previous films – ‘come with me if you want to live’ ‘ill be back’ and a really eighties looking Arnie were all thrown in, though why Arnie didn’t just crush John Connor’s head instead of throwing him around for five minutes was a bit troubling. There were a suite of new terminators to feast your eyes on, and the action scenes certainly made the most of the big screen. The packed out cinema too, was a testament to the quality of the previous films (T3 excluded, obviously) and luckily enough for the fans, the films seems to have the same traits as the terminators that they depict; just when you thought they were dead, they unexpectedly rise up and come back to get you again.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-34453628056714168802009-04-21T15:29:00.004+00:002009-04-21T16:05:05.629+00:00DolphinsMore friends are leaving.<br /><br />Waz’s exit of a few weeks ago was neutralised, if only fleetingly, by his unexpected return to the lunch group last Tuesday – his Japan start date was put back a week enabling him a brief return to the homeland and a chance to exchange some real life smiles. Not to mention another chance to beat him at Pitch and Putt. I have thought about giving him the blog address when he is away; he can be trusted. <br /><br />To even further away. <br /><br />Thoughts also echo from the first year after Uni. Everyone was working in jobs they hated wondering why their degrees seemed worthless. My two best friends at the time decided, for different reasons, to move to Hong Kong. It was tough. I’ve kept in touch, of course, but it’s not the same. I see them less often than the seasons. They’ve both married and had kids, our lives seem so different now, but I can’t talk to them to find out if it’s true.<br /><br />A’s and Jen are emigrating to Tasmania. The final link in their chain to Australia is being forged as I type, but they will leave in September irrespective of their visas stating ‘Skilled Migration’ or ‘Tourist’. Their minds are made up, the legalities will follow. They said they want a change; they’re going to seek out their dream and try it on for size. I joke that they’ll be back but for now at least there is certainty in their eyes. They have come down to Plymouth to consolidate their Uni memories of the place, to tick things off their ‘To do’ list before they leave. We sit up on the Hoe and talk while my head gets an unhealthy dose of April UV. Then Jen sees the dolphins. A pod at least 50 strong, adults and young, are swimming through The Sound. I can’t quite believe my eyes. It’s a beautiful spectacle that gets missed by most of the land dwellers, they’re too busy to notice. Whatever their conversations include, it is not worth missing this moment. Their futures will be starved of this memory, their minds forever oblivious. Silently we gaze in amazement as the dolphins swim through in front of us, the occasional breach betraying their location; individuals seemingly moving faster than the group. They swim to the west, their dorsals soon smaller than flecks of the reflecting sun.<br /><br />They are gone.<br /><br />But not forgotten.<br /><br />To my friends and the dolphins. Good luck.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-4529889418443960272009-03-17T13:22:00.004+00:002009-03-23T08:48:53.435+00:00Spring? (Goodbye)The final light of the day lingers behind the city. I look back across the water to Plymouth and marvel at the sight, both of the skyline back lit in orange, and of the promise of spring, delivered earlier in the day by the clear blue sky. The shorts and vest tops were out around campus. There was clean, crisp, morning air as I walked into work. Summer songs on my iPod unlocked previous memories of barbeques, sunburn and smiles. It a wonderful time of year; so much promise. So much to look forward to. But first I have to say goodbye.<br /><br />It is the nature of studying, or working at a university. Friendships are strong; the randoms that you meet on your first day have similar interests to you. Your nerd factors match, you’re destined to get on. You share ideas on life, thoughts and fears of the future. You go on to share similar highs and lows. <br /><br />But the turnover is great. Contracts are short; a year, possibly two. The overlap is all too often less than this. Waz is off to Japan at the end of the month for two years. He has been down here too long, and while I wish him the best, it is still a huge shame to say goodbye. He has been the main catalyst for me settling so well into Plymouth after a shaky start. Who is going to organise the next bowling league? Who will I beat at pitch and putt? Who will replace him in our office? Time will no doubt deliver a replacement, things will move on and we will all act like its OK. But we’ll all miss you mate.<br /><br />Sayōnara.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-66713856731014782872009-02-05T15:38:00.005+00:002009-02-05T16:00:19.214+00:00Sir Prawn a lot and a missing mulletBack in the days of summer, when I was still in my twenties, we went to catch some prawns. My office mate needed some to use in his project looking at ocean acidification, so we waited for a sunny-ish afternoon and headed for the beach. We needed both species of prawn commonly found in this area, <span style="font-style:italic;">Palaemon serratus</span> and <span style="font-style:italic;">elegans</span>, and the bigger the better. We arrived, eat some ice cream and headed off into the rockpools. I began sweeping through the seaweed with my net willy nilly – occasionally getting a fairly large one, or something else interesting, but it quickly became unrewarding work. After a while we discovered it was more fun, and a lot more productive, to stalk the prawns (and no, im not talking about Facebook). Carefully moving a rock would uncover a whole gang of <span style="font-style:italic;">elegans</span> which, by using the nets in a finely-tuned strike of upsettingly accurate co-ordination could be swept up for the bucket. Soon we had over a hundred and set off back for a sun burnt pint in the pub. Oh how I miss you summer days.<br /><br />Soon afterwards we heard of a new prawn catching technique. We went to the harbour and tried it out – throwing a net on a rope into the deep water and suspending it at somewhere near middle depth. In the net was a mesh bag containing cat food which oozed out - like the shark-attracting ‘shit’ that Chief Brody shovelled over the side of The Orca in Jaws - attracting prawns from far around. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ0580U1PlGt3HZI70MbM5uebslS4sLapzMl8dCfAFTvS1Rwj5NhZEoCf51rdeIaIODVFg1LqiZFjTysU3Igh-ZgqwILIwYvrWagjWVGt-fJ7XWZbYaxAsLQkKcwwMvuUslbYiaGiykeaF/s1600-h/jaws_swims_behind_chief_brody.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ0580U1PlGt3HZI70MbM5uebslS4sLapzMl8dCfAFTvS1Rwj5NhZEoCf51rdeIaIODVFg1LqiZFjTysU3Igh-ZgqwILIwYvrWagjWVGt-fJ7XWZbYaxAsLQkKcwwMvuUslbYiaGiykeaF/s320/jaws_swims_behind_chief_brody.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299341953424083282" /></a>The cat food did its job. Pulling in the net 20 mins later, we had caught some <span style="font-style:italic;">serratus</span> that were approaching Jaws proportions. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc39dKq29lvdg9NCEKMTke4TeUkACUJ8ZnZA36cUjsvxWugjENTQsFjruSha4L0aB2lLKh3e8mzaiEZhCZK0x9BeYNVh4oNsmUQ6Og4jbMrWy0G6DeUN12sjqfQ-AN82A4em2Bk8UCyxfY/s1600-h/prawns+003.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc39dKq29lvdg9NCEKMTke4TeUkACUJ8ZnZA36cUjsvxWugjENTQsFjruSha4L0aB2lLKh3e8mzaiEZhCZK0x9BeYNVh4oNsmUQ6Og4jbMrWy0G6DeUN12sjqfQ-AN82A4em2Bk8UCyxfY/s320/prawns+003.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299341446461346610" /></a>In Tesco they would have been sold as King Tiger <span style="font-style:italic;">serratus</span>. I’ve rarely been so happy.<br /><br />During the first trip we had also brought back a few tiny fish fry that had been swimming in the rock pools. We put two of these into a tank in the aquarium and fed them a variety of the smallest things we could find. They soon began to grow and after some false hope that they might have been bass, we became fairly sure that they were baby mullet. Other things began to appear in the tank as well – starfish, limpets, anemones, prawns, a crab. They must have been tiny larvae in the water with the mullet, but we hadn’t noticed them until they had grown to eye-recognisable size. 6 months later, I was taking in some <span style="font-style:italic;">artemia</span> to feed the now thriving mini ecosystem, but something was not right. Only one fish swam towards me in the search of food. The mullets were only one. I looked around the tank, then outside the tank, then the floor, but there was no sign. I emailed the technician who had spent the most time looking after them:<br /><br />Will,<br />Bad news. <br />We are a mullet down. <br />No evidence of escape. <br />No body.<br />Not sure what to do.<br /><br />Will had noticed the day before but didn’t want to tell me. I started to think about what might have happened and jumped to the conclusion that the crab was to blame. He had been getting bigger and bigger, and was now the size of a 1p piece. I thought if he could have got hold of the mullet, he probably could have eaten it. I checked the tank again for signs of the body but still nothing.<br /><br />Dam that crab, he’s been getting too big for his boots for ages. <br /><br />Before he could eat the other one I made the decision to take him out and put him in a tank on his own with some stock mussels.<br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />Ha. You’re not smiling now are you? Mullet murderer!</span><br /><br />Then this morning I was talking with Will about what to do with the remaining mullet and we suddenly saw the body. At the other end of the rack, a level below, the dried out shape of the missing mullet was suddenly all too obvious. Our eyes followed the path he must have taken; jumped up through the gap between the tank and the lid, flapped his way along the rack for a bit, then fallen through into the tank below.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKEbJ7uNaCvlRduVIISGf_RN3j9YKMXqB7mn3QtvZkyU9KJ2mpwurOFSDip14jnESM6qLR4YUFXjGVHyO_Tw04eO_pqIsqDVQ7wmprn5L05qmnU0Ld443D-KN2XTPrjyI3sZcS8KTg-BEY/s1600-h/mullet!+002.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKEbJ7uNaCvlRduVIISGf_RN3j9YKMXqB7mn3QtvZkyU9KJ2mpwurOFSDip14jnESM6qLR4YUFXjGVHyO_Tw04eO_pqIsqDVQ7wmprn5L05qmnU0Ld443D-KN2XTPrjyI3sZcS8KTg-BEY/s320/mullet!+002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299342584229752434" /></a><br /><br />I apologised to the crab as I returned him to his home tank.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-37688173107412159952009-01-26T10:30:00.004+00:002009-01-26T10:47:52.390+00:00Nothing compares to ShamuThings are changing so quickly I am finding it hard to keep up. I'm not sure I recognise myself completely anymore (Or maybe that's just the alcohol talking..). Even now, as I sit down in the dark peace of 1.35am to clear out my thoughts, the fire alarm has suddenly just sounded a harsh warning that the roof is leaking again and there is a stream of water running into the spare and Doug’s bedrooms.<br /><br />Today at 3.30 pm I sat up in a strange bed and said,<br /><br />‘I really should get going, It’s not fair on you to hang round here all day’<br /><br />She says its fine and makes me tea and toast. I say ill call you and we’ll sort something out. I borrow a coat and get going. I walk up the road shivering, for many reasons, most not involving the cold, but I still cant help but smile. I can’t see anything – my contacts were lost somewhere last night and I didn’t bring spares – and my eyes are now only useful for showing me blurry shapes through their uncorrected –5.00. My t-shirt has the biggest tea stain on it you’ve ever seen. I smell rank. I realise that ive either lost my keys, or I left them at home last night, but in either case I am locked out. I call AnnE and DPsyc. Both go straight to answer phone. I laugh at the absurdity of the situation and try to call JP to talk about it. Straight to answer phone. I call El capitano, as I might have to go straight round his before the gig, but again, straight to answer phone. I think this is silly and call James, Dpsyc again and Marie. All go to answer phone. I feel like im involved in some sort of Truman show conspiracy.<br /><br />The previous evening was tremendous. I went out dressed up as Shamu, the Killer Whale for the ‘under the sea’ themed fancy dress party. I bought an inflatable whale off Ebay and cut some holes in it, put it on in some sort of Silence of the Lambs-esque whale skin fetish and the stuffed it back to inflation with balloons. In fairness, it was a really good outfit for £10. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxrcMwno4XvWKiYmJ1tZ8uu3os-LgD8SD0-PLw7RlgYRKzRS2kLmDDIueaxqH-T1UxmOzaVihEDyb0UDKoUaOCKaTIQlzxevVt4FTrTmbGqFhayHUOWoR7KplCjysWHckCxnWxLS10DkTe/s1600-h/n505113981_1890964_9710.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 238px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxrcMwno4XvWKiYmJ1tZ8uu3os-LgD8SD0-PLw7RlgYRKzRS2kLmDDIueaxqH-T1UxmOzaVihEDyb0UDKoUaOCKaTIQlzxevVt4FTrTmbGqFhayHUOWoR7KplCjysWHckCxnWxLS10DkTe/s320/n505113981_1890964_9710.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295548519850138706" /></a><br /><br />I had, earlier in the week, partially cleared the air with AnnE after a difficult, sober chat about what had happened between us. I was comfortable with how my feelings had developed, and happy with my arguments and sense. Overall though, I was hugely disappointed to have like her so much with the current hindsight in such clarity. I half expected, and was ready for another chat of the drunk variety last night but it didn’t emerge. Her, Dpsyc and DPsyc’s current love interest all went home early. That left me to get on the Gin and pull. I found myself having some good banter with K, a northern lass dressed as a pirate who, at 6’3’’ was taller than me. We went to a club and danced. I took of the whale and we jumped up and down on the balloons. Shamu’s limp lifeless body now littered a nightclub enclave and we giggled as we watched as the revellers walk past, double take, then pick it up in confusion. We get kicked out of the club at 5ish but there is a bar open across the road. We head over and she buys even more vodka. I lean in and we kiss, but the spirits have numbed my senses and memory. She takes me home and I spill the tea all over my white t-shirt. I take out my contacts and we go to bed but she says there is to be no sex. Fair enough. Then I find myself walking around her flat looking for the toilet. It’s late, or early, nothing is making sense. The Gin has ruined my logic. I find myself outside, and bursting, I take a piss down a drain next to her house. I’m only wearing my pants and its freezing. I walk back inside and don’t have the faintest idea which bedroom is hers. Think. I can’t even remember her name. I laugh but shake my head. I make it back to her room.<br /><br />The next day we have some good hug time and laughs. She’s nice. I leave and make the calls that go to answer phones. AnnE eventually calls back and drives back to let me in. She says she’s been at the rugby with some of her work lot, but drives straight off again. Weird. I eventually walk over to El capitanos and we get the taxi to watch another Metal Fatigue gig. He tells me he also went to see the rubgy and that they bumped into AnnE who was there with Steve. Just the two of them. Steve is a mid forties guy who’s AnnE’s boss. El capitano says he thinks theyre an item. I cant quite, but also completely believe it. The thoughts of the past month have been making a solid Tetris block on one side of the screen, but something hasnt quite fitted. The Captains info finally delivered the missing piece, the long thin one, that moved over to the side and slotted perfectly down into the gap. The block of memorys flash for a second:<br /><br />Oh my god.<br /><br />Really?<br /><br />He was part of the original crowd present when we had our first row. And she had had the nerve to tell me I was being jealous for no reason.<br /><br />And then they dissapear.<br /><br />My thoughts turn to the dark side for a few minutes.<br /><br />At the gig I get drunk again and text K. She replies and says that her housemate apparently saw me having a piss in the back garden. Oh great. I tell her I’m sorry and will explain. She says its funny and not to worry. I say the gig is good but that nothing compares to Shamu. I hope she gets it, it’s the best text pun ive come up with in ages.<br /><br />We sing in the taxi on the way home and play a game when you have to say a famous person, but substitute in a type of fish. I manage a few; Martin Luther Ling, Blenny Henry, Eel Morrisey, Jonathan Wrasse, but El capitano wins easily with Angelina Coley<br /><br />There is a lot to think about...SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-37535699157120920312009-01-16T11:01:00.005+00:002009-01-16T11:08:52.689+00:00Songs / PsychologyI’m still in a sad, reflective mood. Its been harder to get over AnnE than I first hoped. We've still not spoken and she’s acting like nothing happened. I’m more upset now with myself for getting her so wrong.<br /><br />There was an interesting, timely article on New Scientist this week that asked the question is it really bad to be sad? (it’s <a href="http://www.newscientist.com/article/mg20126911.600-is-it-really-bad-to-be-sad.html">here</a>, but I think you might need subscription, and seems to be based on <a href="http://www.oup.com/us/catalog/general/subject/Medicine/PsychiatryPsychology/?view=usa&ci=9780195313048">this book</a>). I’ve had a fairly sad few weeks, and I agreed with the guy that it’s not necessarily a bad thing. He suggests that people (not me, I hastily point out) are too quickly turning to antidepressants as a quick fix for a bout of sadness, and that in doing so we are depriving ourselves a valuable period of reflection;<br /><br />"They fear that the increasing tendency to treat normal sadness as if it were a disease is playing fast and loose with a crucial part of our biology. Sadness, they argue, serves an evolutionary purpose - and if we lose it, we lose out."<br /><br />But where do you draw the line? When does your sadness reach a level that is dangerous? Who decides? How do they decide? I guess it’s a question I could ask DPsyc about if he wasn’t going to bore my tits off with his answer.<br /><br />I have, <a href="http://smartbuddyshouse.blogspot.com/2008/09/oh-dumped.html">like last time</a>, turned to music and running – my ankle, thank fuck, has been feeling slowly better and I'm going to try my 13 mile coast run this weekend. I’ve got a new Camelbak to try out and a new 2 Gb Shuffle, which seems to have a never ending stream of songs compared to my previous 256 Mb mp3 player. It’s nice to have some new songs to run to after 4 years of the same 40 or so, but I’ve kept most of the originals on the playlist as they’re absolute killers. I find it interesting how a change in mood can make you find different meaning in a song lyric – I've noticed a lot more songs that I like are obviously written after getting dumped, or through a break up, and have lines in them that id previously not understood, or just didnt hear.<br /><br />Or maybe you just interpret things how you want to.<br /><br />Who knows.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-79156795743945209562009-01-03T16:14:00.005+00:002009-01-03T16:30:54.158+00:00The Butterfly. Effects.It’s fair to say I’m quite bored of being at home. It has been good to spend some time with my parents, to see my sister and her family, and nice to see some old friends around the village. Unfortunately, my lack of things to do has now transported me to the point where I'm almost looking forward to getting back into the work cycle. I’ve spent my free time at home watching DVD box sets; The Wire – Season 1 - which was very realistic, so took some time to get into, but well worth it, and Peep Show, which I’m working my way through all 5 series of. Its very very funny – the two main characters narrate their real thoughts over the top of the actual dialoges, and its hard not to laugh at how true some of the situations are. Its reached the point where I’m now seeing a subtitle of what my actual thoughts are on each real life situation I find myself in. I’ve also played quite a bit with my infra-red controlled helicopter, which is surprisingly stable to fly, eat vast amounts of cheese and had 2 bouts of man flu.<br /><br />The AnnE thing hasn’t moved on - ive not heard from her since an exceptionally bland Christmas Day text - and I’m still hopelessly unsure of what my best course of action is for when I return to the Plym on Sunday. I spent the first week or so hoping every text I got would be from her saying something about it all being a mistake and she wanted me back, but they always turned out to be someone else, or a service message from Orange - both of which, in their own way, said that I need to move on. I genuinely don’t know what to expect when I get back, which is at least slightly exciting, even if the majority of what it remains being is quite shit.<br /><br />The time has quickly emerged during which I have to get back into real life. Early Jan is the time for planning what is going happen this year and I have been making some mental lists; I’m going to join the Uni gym, just so I can get my cycling up to some sort of decent standard before the spring-time triathlon training starts in anger. I’ve got a slight ankle injury, but after a good 3 weeks of rest I’m hoping I can start running regularly again next week. If I can then there are quite a few races in Jan and Feb that I might as well enter to keep myself motivated. Ill probably do the Bath Half again in March too. I think I’m going to join the Plymouth Tri Club, as then I can enter the south west race series, which will give me even more motivation.<br /><br />I’m not sure what the girl situation is going to be like- the thought of AnnE bringing some cock back to flat still makes me think angry thoughts, but at some point one of us (and by one of us I mean her) is going to do that. The possi/proba -bility that there is/was someone else still makes me feel sick. I think that the statistically likely risk of getting dumped three times in a row is a bit too unpalatable and best combated by not getting together with anyone else. I’ve had a lot more sleepless nights this year than ever during my single years. Part of me is already thinking ahead to my end of contract and that perhaps it is best to be entirely unserious with girls this year, then I can save up some money and if there are no decent jobs about next March (when my current funding runs out) I should head off round the world for a bit. I can’t really see the downside of that at the moment. Despite that though, I seriously do need to put some hours in at work this year and at least get the first few papers out, if not a grant proposal which would be a lot more positive and make the potential job situation more probable. I have also possibly got some consultation work, which will be great if it comes off, and might involve some trips to Holland. Finally, there are at least 3 holidays being talked around the group at the moment, and already 2 good weekends for before Easter, so fingers crossed it will turn into a great year from a shit beginning.<br /><br />The most strange and beautiful thing since being at home was a Peacock butterfly that was on the outside bin on New Years eve when I took out some rubbish. I still don’t really understand what has happened to make it hatch out in the current below zero temperatures, but it is a wonderful thing. I brought it inside and warmed it up on a lampshade and fed it some sugary water. It is still alive now, but is not flying around as much. I think my Monday morning job at work is to investigate what could have possibly happened…<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy3yP7sZoXMIfENkKVcLa0-yyON7N4VAmiLj3ulBfw8s3Ms9Szc1JjPi0kCWRld5ncLYRA6RuDGN5ktOE5La3Vz5Jt2nP2FIYgOnSKD3l-7shHdtPtyI1wlut-bjJd8QllBao1LQYBwNKY/s1600-h/DSC03169small.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy3yP7sZoXMIfENkKVcLa0-yyON7N4VAmiLj3ulBfw8s3Ms9Szc1JjPi0kCWRld5ncLYRA6RuDGN5ktOE5La3Vz5Jt2nP2FIYgOnSKD3l-7shHdtPtyI1wlut-bjJd8QllBao1LQYBwNKY/s320/DSC03169small.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287105310930204050" /></a><br /><br />Happy New year plans.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-67650634362505151482008-12-22T20:26:00.013+00:002008-12-22T21:20:06.337+00:00Being friends?<em>Sorry, its boring I know, but another diary post has to be gotten off ones chest...</em><br /><br />The big BDay night went well up until the final hour, which saw another argument between me and AnnE. She and DPSyc had come up to the Stol and we were all gunna stay on the floor around a friends house. D still didn’t know that we had been seeing each other – A had said previously that she didn’t want to tell him to avoid any house awkwardness. This was bothering me a bit as it meant we were still not open in the house- she would, for example, scurry out of my hug if she heard D coming down the stairs. Most of my better friends knew about us and I thought this weekend would be a good time for him to find out. Anyway, AnnE had arrived first. I made an effort to look after her, kept an eye out to make sure someone was with her and went over and talked to her if she was on her own. The drink flowed and eventually everyone seemed to be having a good time. I had gone up to the DJ to ask him to play The Killers' <em>Mr Brightside </em>at midnight as my Birthday came in, but at the last second decided to leave it to fate. 10 minutes later everyone is laughing at me as I do a fucked off dance to Maria Carey's version of <em>All I Want For Christmas Is You</em>. A and I suddenly find ourselves alone – D was off somewhere so I grab her and we have a really good kiss. I hug her and everything feels great.<br /><br />Much like the young guy in the police drama, who is doing his last drugs bust before heading back to Law School to support his young family, it is all too predictable which way it is going to go.<br /><br />We dance some more and D comes back. I back off and get my drink. The songs pass and I get bored. I eventually ask her if it’s a good time to tell D about us, but she cant hear me. I grab her hand and take her to a corner, but she still cant hear. I take her outside, where she can hear, but doesn’t listen to me and thinks im being jealous like last week* and having a go at her for dancing with D. I explain I only want to be alone with her so we can kiss, but that I also think its time we told D so we wouldn’t have to be secret. Probably 5 or 10 minutes pass, but we are not progressing. The floor seems to shake a little as she says that its over between us.<br /><br />I protest but shes sure. I ask for a reason. She says that people always split up. She doesn’t want to fight with me and that if we keep going out we will split up and it will be awful. I was so nice to her last week when she was ill that she realised she doesnt want to lose me. She only wants to be my friend as friends can last forever. I tell her that’s stupid and that people do stay together - that people definitely don’t stay together if they break up before they’ve had a chance of going out properly. Shes asks me to name 5 couples who have stayed together and I give her them without missing a beat, but it does no good.<br /><br />People start leaving the club, walking past us as I try to talk her round. Toast walks past with some friends and gives me a knowing look as we low five goodbyes. D comes out with Meg and C-Unit. I say to them all that me and A have been going out, but that she has just dumped me. I count at lest 4 tumbleweeds blow past. I turn to D and say 'sorry I didn’t tell you sooner'. They suggest we go back to the flat. I go to get my coat and Anne comes too. She says she doesn’t want to lose me as a friend. This hits a nerve and I tell her to fuck off. We get back to the guys and I check my watch, its 2.35 – ten minutes until the last night bus back to my folks’ house. I say im going to get it, and that D and A should go back to Meg’s as planned. I walk off but A follows me. She doesn’t want to leave it like this. As the kebab queues diminish, and the last few drunks leave the street, it goes on and on. She doesn’t give a better reason than not wanting to lose our friendship when we break up further down the line, even when i suggest a few to her. We soon stop communicating. The layers of arguments become so thick that we are barely touching the cake.<br /><br />Thinking about it now, she is probably right – we have argued or talked about arguing more than we’ve had fun over the last fortnight, and that isn’t really the foundation for a long term relationship. I can see that logically, but in my heart I still want to make things work out. If she really wants to be friends so much she shouldn’t have kept trying to pull me this year when she was drunk and I was seeing the Twin and LEA. Even when we talked soberly about getting together there was no mention of the friends-being-lost problem. Meg asked me the next day if she thought it might be the case that she was only interested when it was secret and exciting. I hadn’t ever thought that, and don’t really now, but the last paragraph, at least, paints that picture.<br /><br />What is blindingly obvious is that there are other reasons that she is not saying. I would really like to know them, just so I can take them onboard – they might help me out in the future.<br /><br />The next morning I wake and feel wholly rubbish. I look around my room and recognise my bedroom as the one at my parents house. The memories of the above flood in and I hope it’s a bad dream. I remember walking A back to the flat and then walking about a park in Clifton wondering where it had all gone wrong. Eventually I got a taxi home and had a good chat with the driver about what had gone on. The texts soon start rolling in from around the country from friends wishing me a happy 30th and hoping that I had a good night out. Among them is A saying shes ‘sorry very very sorry’. I pin some hope to this and over the next day and a half we exchange a few texts- me asking if we had really split, her replying that she was sorry. I eventually phone her to ask her if there is any future for us. I need to know. She says that there isn’t after what I said. I don’t remember what I said but she doesn’t want to go back over it. <br /><br />So here we are again. Dumped twice in 3 months. I had made a resolution last year to make a greater effort with girls, to take more chances, and it has worked well. But its not a nice feeling to get dumped, especially for a shit reason. Everyone said it was a bad idea to go out with a friend and a housemate, and my current hesitation to head back to the flat serves as fairly conclusive proof that everyone was right again. Despite this, under the same circumstances, I think I’d have to do it again – You’ve got to try these things out for yourself.<br /><br />There are, however, some positives. I only slept 3 hours on Sat night worrying about this. I managed 5 hours last night, and with the definitive closure gained in conversation today my head feels a lot less like a Spectrum trying to load up Vista, so I might well do the 8. I got over LEA – I certainly dont hate her anymore – and ill get over AnnE. I haven’t even cried this time. Maybe we can even be friends. Don’t get me wrong- I will miss the hugs, and id like a better reason off her when I see her, and I really hope she tries to pull me again at some point so I can tell her to fuck off - but it is obviously for the best if she doesn’t want it, so I will get my shit together and move on. I can plan holidays now, ive got some motivation to train hard and I will not have to worry about her or her problems so much. The biggest positive was realising my friends will be there for me. Meg and C unit took me out the next day even though I barely said a word and C was completely open and philosophical on his previous lost loves as I gave him a lift home. JB and Barbie were on the phone to me straight away and Pman made me laugh out loud for 5 minutes with this text (following on from a ‘cheers for coming, I got dumped at end’ - type effort from me);<br /><br /><em>We both had a brilliant time! Sorry about AnnE but my brief assessment was nice tits, bad attitude so I think you’re better off without. I hope you don’t somehow get back together and end up married now.</em><br /><br />The blogTV show, ‘Living with my ex in the same flat’ will begin in the New Year. <br /><br />Merry Xmas y’all.<br /><br />*her dancing and flirting with some cocks last week were The Truth - star of the last post.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-19356159997867421482008-12-15T10:37:00.005+00:002008-12-15T11:01:11.960+00:00Errors and issues (featuring The Truth).For fuck’s sake.<br /><br />I had a massive row with AnnE at the weekend. It was no fun whatsoever. It was preceded, predictably, by far too much drinking. At the time the issues seemed so huge that they dwarfed any chance we had of staying together. The truth was so big and scary that when it crawled out of its lair I was petrified and couldn’t look it in the eye. Every action I attempted to make it go away just seemed to feed it's strength. I talked about it with The Captain as it loomed large over both of us at 3am in a takeaway, but we failed to make it go away.<br /><br />The Truth followed me home and featured heavily in the row, which i am not very experienced in, and have no desire to gain any more.<br /><br />Then, in the cold light of a two day hangover the truth was pathetic. It had shrunk to the size of a spider I could crush without even realising. It still made me jump a little when I saw it (it was spider after all, what was it doing in here?) and it had a flicker of power to worry me about our future. But in comparison to the beast i had seen last night it was minuscule. Nights out can get silly – out of control before you realise what has happened.<br /><br />We talked a bit about the way we remembered things going on but it was hard work for us both. I remain slightly concerned that she is not as serious as me about going out – she infers that she doesn’t want things to go wrong between us because of the house, where as in comparison to her I couldn’t really give a fuck about the house. In my darkest moments I worry she feels trapped ‘seeing’ me as dumping me would make the house awkward, but I hope she is stronger than letting such things drag out. In our warmest moments, which are (well, were) the vast majority, it still feels great and more than worthwhile. I am (well, was) falling for her.<br /><br />I guess, like everyone else, we could go either way. Time has it in her hands.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-22785750181726288052008-12-09T10:23:00.003+00:002008-12-09T10:30:26.581+00:00The criminal’s address.Our first house party went quite well. The <a href="http://smartbuddyshouse.blogspot.com/2008/02/flat-by-sea.html">flat by the sea</a> has been threatening to open its doors ever since we have moved in, but the summer came and went with nothing but clashing dates, and the idea’s momentum was burnt out. DPsyc turned it around when one of his course mates, Zil, had a birthday coming up and was reluctant to do anything for it. He stealthily Facebooked, emailed and called up her old and new housemates, some friends and coursemates, and we all stood together in the darkened lounge while Zil came up the stairs. Her illusion of a few quiet drinks round ours then out into town were shattered with the sharp sounds or party poppers and shrill voices of SURPRISE!<br /><br />Then it was all over. I had felt more tense than I had hoped, and spent a fair bit of time in sight of some undergrads that I feared might be in danger of breaking, or puking on, some stuff if left unchecked. We played a good party game where you have to pick up a piece of card off the floor using only your mouth, and only your feet can touch the floor, but there were some bendy girls who were better at it than me. I chatted to a guy from the Wakeboarding club, who by chance was also one of Zil’s new housemates. The land of the Plym is a very small place. Then I left on my drive to A’s and Veggies for the Grim8 – a race I had entered at the last minute – and stayed at theirs for the rest of the weekend.<br /><br />On my return late into Sunday, DPsyc told me that his car had been ‘done over’ sometime on the Friday night. He had called the police and they had informed him that he was one of 12 who had reported something missing or broken from their cars over the Friday/Saturday night. We were later to learn (through a variety of unreliable sources) that a ‘Druggie’ who was new to the area had been out stealing things that could be shifted quickly in exchange for his next hit. What a fucker. DPsyc’s side indicator bulbs were gone, his wing mirror glass removed, his lock destroyed with a screwdriver, but this unsuccessful entry attempt had led onto his back window glass being smashed – even though there was nothing in the car to steal.<br /><br />Amazingly, the police called back to say that some of the items had been recovered. The guy had apparently been caught, and some of the items, including DPsyc’s side indicators were found. These were returned in a sealed evidence bag, which was obviously some sort of mistake, as it had the address of where they were recovered from, in fact they had the exact location, ‘On coffee table, front room’ of where they were recovered from. The address was about 20 houses down from ours. I once did 6 months work at the Crown Prosecution Service and remember they were incredibly paranoid about sending out witness statements to the defence, as each one had to meticulously checked for any hint of a location as to wear the Witness might be from. Each one had large bits blacked out, and were checked several times by different people before they were posted. The police here obviously didn’t care too much about giving out this guys address to the one of his victims. The guy himself is probably too smacked of his head to care about anything.<br /><br />I was quite angry about the cars that got broken – thousands of pounds worth of damage – all for one individual who has gone wrong. I don’t know if I should feel sorry for him, or if it’s OK to feel like I do, that he should be put in jail for a long time. I understand that that isn’t really the solution, but I struggle to see what is. We half-to-quarter-joked about what we should send him in the post, or what we should put on his doorstep at 4 in the morning.<br /><br />Im still not sure.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-76818788750483876712008-11-18T13:03:00.005+00:002008-11-18T13:15:35.559+00:00PantsI check my watch and its time to leave. I have to get showered, changed, parked and walk up to the quiz, all in 30 mins. Hopefully ill have a spare 5 minutes to get some dinner in on the way.<br /><br />I am rushing as I enter the changing rooms and take off my faithful Senegalese football shirt. I hunt in my bag for some shower gel. I take off my shoes, socks and shorts and am just about to take of my pants and head for the showers when I recognise <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom_Daley_(diver)">Tom Daley</a>. Plymouth's golden boy (well, golden in the 8th, rather than 1st place in the Olympics sense) is also in the changing rooms. This fact confuses me slightly and I’m not sure what to do, but end up staring at him, my mind matching his real life face with TV memories from Beijing. He catches me looking at him so I feel compelled to combat the rapidly increasing awkwardness and say, <br /><br />‘Oh Hiya!’<br /><br />pointing at him with one hand and giving a thumbs up with the other. He is polite enough to reply and nod while I continue the crap conversation;<br /><br />'So you're back into training now then...'<br /><br />'Hope everything is going well..'<br /><br />'Did you really fall out with the other synchro guy?..'<br /><br />But something is wrong. Suddenly I'm very aware of my lack of clothing. His voice is saying the occasional word but his body language is saying ‘stop talking to me this is very uncomfortable.’ I imagined afterwards that the dialogue in his head was saying , ‘A sweaty man has rushed into the room, taken most of his clothes off and then has suddenly started talking to me. Get yourself out of this situation.’<br /><br />So that was the day I spoke to Tom Daley in my pants.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-18403400810347072442008-11-11T10:41:00.003+00:002008-11-11T10:46:59.844+00:00Krypton Fish Amazon FactorBy some mysterious, and numerous, quirks of fate, not to mention a series of unlikely events I find myself lying in bed with AnnE. We embrace as a hangover stamps noisily around my body and I dare to dream of contentment in between short dozes and long thoughts over investing and getting dumped. Once bitten twice shy, and all that.<br /><br />The past few weeks have been messy. I’ve drunk more than I have in years, partly because there are no races to prepare for but mainly because there has been a busy social calendar and I feel like I may as well get involved. This time last year I was off to Brazil with work for 6 weeks, and had arranged my 3 week holiday straight afterwards, so I missed the current seasonal change to cold dark evenings with leaves on the ground. This year I seem to be busier at work than ever, and yet still find myself wondering what my next challenge should be. Common sense seems to indicate I should get the current one finished first.<br /><br />I entered the new series of ITV’s 'Krypton Factor' on a whim, and got an interview, but couldn’t make it through work commitments. They phoned up on a Wednesday and were like, ‘Ooo, could you come up to Cardiff on Friday morning’ and I was like, ‘well maybe if you'd given me some warning, but I've got work on Friday.’ So they tried to re-arrange but it wasn’t to be. In a similar vein I am also writing an application for a BBC wildlife series, but suspect that this one will be slightly more competitive. I hope that tales of my trip to Brazil might count for something and I can get an expedition out to combine filming some fish, maybe giant freshwater stingrays, with doing some more fieldwork for the current work project. You’ve got to have a dream, right?<br /><br />AnnE is lovely, but, I’m dont feel able to rush into anything this time. I’ve gone from living in different cities to the previous two girls I’ve ‘seen’ to living in the same house as AnnE. Its not that awkward par se, but sometimes on a bland Tuesday evening you just want to veg out and not have to make an effort. I think ill miss the excitement of dating, as I see her a lot at the house so the time is not that special. That said, we are having a ‘date’ tonight to see the new Bond flick, so we’ll soon figure out how we feel. Speaking to a few mates I don’t think housemates getting together is as uncommon as I first thought – I can now think of 3 at least – all of which went/are still going long term.<br /><br />Time will tell.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-27923387451712290802008-10-16T09:53:00.003+00:002008-10-16T09:57:04.338+00:00Very apt...I've just had the craziest week,<br />Like a party bag of lies, booze and then deceit.<br />And I don't know why I want to voice this out loud,<br />It's therapeutic somehow.<br /><br />So I'm moving to New York cos I've got problems with my sleep,<br />And we're not the same and I will wear that on my sleeve.<br />So I'm moving to New York cos I've got issues with my sleep,<br />Looks like Christmas came early, Christmas came early for me.<br /><br />I put one foot forward and ended up thirty yards back,<br />Am I losing touch? Or am I just completely off the track?<br />And I don’t know why I want to voice this out loud,<br />It’s therapeutic somehow.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZTEN359V8pI">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZTEN359V8pI</a><br /><br />(...apart from the moving to New York bit)SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-49938618481805754332008-09-30T08:15:00.004+00:002008-09-30T08:33:18.016+00:00Oh. (Dumped)Oh.<br /><br />Still no news from LEA. No text. No message. I hate myself for doing so, but I check her Facebook. She is definitely back, its full of loads of shit updates. Whats going on? <br /><br />I email her at lunchtime, ‘Hey! Are you back?’<br /><br />She replies, ‘Yeah’<br /><br />Nothing else. One word. Not even a full stop.<br /><br />Oh.<br /><br />This is not good.<br /><br />I don’t reply.<br /><br />The afternoon passes.<br /><br />I walk home, and decide to go up round the Hoe. I pass a bench looking out over the sea and sit down to think. I look to my right and see another bench. I suddenly get a memory. That bench, this location, has some history. It’s the bench I sat on about 9 years ago, under what feels like similar circumstances, when I had just split with my Uni girlfriend. At this moment (well, lets not lie, about 1 minute after id set off again) I get the text.<br /><br />'Blah blah blah are you free for a chat blah blah blah blah I'm finding more than friends weird and holiday made me realise that. Don’t want to loose you as a friend thou blah blah blah blah'<br /><br />Oh.<br /><br />So that’s it. <br /><br />My mind whirrs. I'm gutted, but it’s some sort of relief to know at least. My brain kicks out these thoughts, in this order, over the next 5 minutes:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">1.</span> Does that mean she’s shacked up with some cunt on her holiday?<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">2.</span> What am I going to do with the tickets I bought for us to go and see Tim Minchin on Sunday?<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">3.</span> I cringe at the thought of sending her a FaceBook message while she was on holiday saying that I missed her loads.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">4.</span> What / How has (this) gone wrong in such a short space of time?<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">5.</span> I don’t think I want to be friends with her. Ive seen a different side and cant go back.<br /><br />I get home. I decide to run away from the problem. I run for 2 hours. I did 1¾ hours yesterday, so I’ve just set a new record for the most running I’ve ever done in 2 days – about 30 miles.<br /><br />I feel more angry than distraught.<br /><br />But I still cry a little bit.<br /><br />My thoughts sway between two schools. The ageing 3-belt champion idea is to call her up and launch into her; tell her she shouldn’t be so fickle, shouldn’t fuck about with peoples feelings, and should have told me before she went on holiday. But this is not me. The undefeated young challenger idea is to try and rise above it – we were good friends once - we've got lots of mutual friends. Maybe, probably, in a week or two ill be grateful for doing so if I bite my lip now. I decide to not reply and let things set in for a day or two.<br /><br />Then I get home and change my mind. I think I should send her a text or else she might call me and I don’t really want to speak to her. At first I write:<br /><br />‘WTF?! Youre so weird. You shouldnt fuck about with peoples feelings’<br /><br />But during typing it the predictive text only found ‘duck’ instead of ‘fuck’ and as I was trying to solve it the screen suddenly said ‘Sending Message.’<br /><br />Panic!<br /><br />I press every button on the phone 34 times in one second and thank fuck it cancelled the sending. Phew. I’m not sure what LEA would have made of ‘you shouldn’t duck’ Maybe she would have taken it as a threat – ‘don’t you fucking duck bitch when I shoot at you!’ - Or maybe not. I think back to <a href="http://smartbuddyshouse.blogspot.com/2008/08/diary-time.html">when I finished with the Twin</a> and got a blank text through; I guess she wasn’t quite so lucky with the cancelling.<br /><br />Having read the text back it sounded a bit jovial, a bit matter of fact. I want her to know she has hurt, but I don’t want to write an essay. I change it to;<br /><br />‘Oh. Understood. I am gutted. You shouldnt be so fickle with peoples hearts’<br /><br />No Reply.<br /><br />Good.<br /><br />Now I'm in my room listening to Damien Rice and Arcade Fire, typing this. I made some freezer bolognaise but cant eat it. I try to phone my mum (she doesn’t know about LEA) as it would be nice to have a chat about nothing in particular, but she is engaged for three tries.<br /><br />Oh.<br /><br />Without wanting to sound too fickle myself, I’m looking forward to ‘Amazon’ tonight more than ever. Ive heard that they go to Manaus in one episode, <a href="http://smartbuddyshouse.blogspot.com/search/label/Amazon">the city I stayed in for 6 weeks</a> last year.<br /><br />I hope AnnE and DPsyc are not downstairs as Ill have to tell them and it will be rubbish.<br /><br />Dumped.<br /><br />Oh.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-80940422586028966232008-09-26T16:00:00.002+00:002008-09-26T16:04:09.482+00:00The Sport and The Girl(s)Rubbish. Ive left too long between posts again. My boss has come back from Oz so ive been busy catching up with the stuff I should have done while she was away but was watching YouTube for most of the day.<br /><br />Bristol half marathon was a lovely day out. I ran with my friend J for a few miles, then he pulled away from me and I never saw him again until the end. He finished 1 minute in front of me with little training, which was ever so slightly annoying, but I did do my best time for Bristol by 1 second which cancelled out any disappointment. Another friend was 40 seconds in front of me, and his brother did under 1 hour 20 seconds, which is a ridiculous time. I enjoyed the day, and despite the even shitter than usual goody bag, it is a treat to run around the closed off city streets which have so many childhood memories.<br /><br />I saw LEA on the Friday night before and had an OK time at the cinema. We watched Rocknrolla which was quite shit, and she was very tired throughout the evening. She then bailed on coming to the race, and then I couldn’t get in contact with her in the evening so had to head back without seeing her. I was, at the time, convinced something was up.<br /><br />Last weekend I did a posh gym triathlon. It was very funny. DPsyc, my housemate, is a member there and noticed a flyer on the wall advertising a sprint triathlon. It turned out to be a 5k exercise bike, 3k outside run and finally 10 lengths of a 20m pool. I turned up and had a look about the place, which emerged to be incredibly nice. The huge aircon room full of machines and weights, the aircraft hanger of indoor tennis courts, the spa, the pools, the everything. But with hindsight, maybe it was too nice. I don’t think id be able to properly train in such nice surroundings- id be wanting to sit down and have a coffee rather than busting out some running. Anyway, I made my way to the ‘Conservatory’ where 8 exercise bikes were lined up. I’ve never really had a go on a proper exercise bike, so had a quick warm up while I was waiting to start. It doesn’t really bare any resemblance to road cycling but is quite good fun. The distance goes down faster by either increasing your pedalling speed or by increasing the resistance. I just got my cadence to about 100 and then dialled up the resistance to what I felt like I could keep going for 5k. I ended up doing it in 7 minutes something, which was in second place, about a minute behind some old guy who had gone out hard and looked like he was really struggling to stay upright as he negotiated down the steps to start his run. I caught him up on the run and was about 20 seconds behind him as he started his swim. I eventually overtook him on the last length of the swim and so won my heat by 4 seconds. I got an email with the results on the next day and it turned out that I had finished second overall. That’s my best result ever, by miles, which was truly exciting! And just shows that if you want to get fit, and nice comfy gym is not the place to do it.<br /><br />LEA has been on holiday for the past week or so, which has left me lots of time to both reflect on what is happening between us and avoid kissing other girls when drunk. Two feats which I have achieved with some pride, but, it remains incredible how much more interest I am attracting having told people im now ‘seeing’ someone. Its like you are flagged up as an acceptable catch when you’re seeing someone else, while you get pased over as potentially dodgy when you’re single. I think I might write this up as a post, if I can just find some time to waste at work.<br /><br />Good weekends to you all.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-62675141749733245502008-09-15T15:52:00.003+00:002008-09-15T15:59:00.427+00:00Written on Friday, posted on Monday...Hungover, I am, again, after Pub Thursday. There are no stories from the week so it will be a diary post today.<br /><br />Wake boarding was cancelled last night due to it being too windy. We went down to the centre but the sea was really choppy and the two experienced guys both thought it would be rubbish, so we drove home and moaned about the weather. It has, apparently, been the wettest two consecutive summers ever in England. It feels like the summer has been stolen, but southern Europe has had better than average sunshine, so maybe not. It is made worse by not having a holiday to look forward to this year. There is no <a href="http://smartbuddyshouse.blogspot.com/2008/01/html-heavy-amazon.html">Brazil trip</a> (though maybe next year…), and I haven’t booked another holiday as am really struggling with funds while trying to save up for a new car. I think once I get switched into winter mode ill quite enjoy it, but at the moment my body wants to lie in the sun, but the weather is so cold we have had to put the heating on.<br /><br />This morning I have been reading a lot about the LHC and am quite interested in its results, despite not fully understanding the finer details of what is going to happen. It is by far the biggest and most exciting science experiment ever made. There is a really good science podcast on the BBC (<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio/podcasts/drkarl/">here</a>) the current episode of which is all about the LHC. If you have any science geek genes whatsoever you’ll probably enjoy it. I’ve just tried to put a clever status on my Facebook saying that the LHC was not as complicated as my HPLC (which is constantly going wrong) but it kept on crashing so I gave up.<br /><br />This weekend brings the Bristol Half marathon, which is my last race of the season. I’ve lost a little bit of enthusiasm for training over the final few weeks, but am still hoping to run a PB, and will be gutted if I don’t get under 1h30m. My run training has been slightly different this year as ive done a lot more easy pace long runs (~20K) and occasional short sprints, as opposed to only running my usual 10K type distances. Ive also been playing 5-a-side footy once a week which I think is brilliant for speed training, but I guess we will see on Sunday.<br /><br />Im back to the homeland tonight, so have got another date with LEA. Things are going ‘alright’, which is a step down from the first few weeks, but I think this is mainly because I haven’t seen her for 4 weeks. The reasons why, and the consequences of which can be analysed (and have been, by my head) for hours with few conclusive answers turning up.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-23598742903463280032008-09-05T11:51:00.004+00:002008-09-05T12:02:57.963+00:00What am I?The familiar sensations come back to me as I walk into work. My legs ache, like all the toxins from last night have migrated down into my calves. My mind whirs as I flick through the memories of last night. I turn on the radio in my phone and plug in the earphones. The music sounds different. It has stopped being background noise. The tunes kick down the door to my mood and overpower my senses. I smile and sing. The songs mean nothing to me but my eyes are welling up. I feel euphoric as a thunderstorm soaks me and rain and tears run down my face.<br /><br />Weird.<br /><br />I get a sausage bap, a coffee, and retire to my office. I write this post. My legs still ache.<br /><br />I’m hungover.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-10116777700274530902008-09-01T15:16:00.003+00:002008-09-01T15:31:09.055+00:00Wakey Wakey!Yeah I went Wake boarding last night. Do you see what I’ve done with the title there?<br /><br />A few of the guys from work go every week and there was a spare place on the boat so they asked me to come along. My only concern about doing it was getting injured as I’ve got the ‘Stol Half Marathon in 2 weeks, and I have seen quite a few of the first timers hobbling about the day after with a whiplash or crooked neck from a wipe out on their first go. I’ve always fancied giving it a try though so it seemed too go a chance to miss, and plenty of time to recover if it did all go wrong.<br /><br />I’m really glad I decided to go too, it’s Fantastic Contraption-esque in how much fun it delivers and was a great evening. I think it was worth the £10 fee just to have a drive around Plym sound for a few hours, and we even had a hint of sunshine (which has been extremely rare this summer):<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitiLaxg0S8XOPVqWFIxaXlA_gnX2Z1ew4loBCJSqeDPG2cjL3RL_DhFtBJJ5IAGtEjcqMHTSsWIyxz3l-Xt0QvTc1LXiuCBS3RnBKPGMyuxJea_UyOq2AJVeVgQAc81fRfUGvFDGdVqvMh/s1600-h/Wakeboarding270808+027.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitiLaxg0S8XOPVqWFIxaXlA_gnX2Z1ew4loBCJSqeDPG2cjL3RL_DhFtBJJ5IAGtEjcqMHTSsWIyxz3l-Xt0QvTc1LXiuCBS3RnBKPGMyuxJea_UyOq2AJVeVgQAc81fRfUGvFDGdVqvMh/s320/Wakeboarding270808+027.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241074318456630370" /></a><br /><br />I got a lot of advice from the regulars on how to get standing up, which, apparently, is the most difficult part. Waz went first and zoomed around both sides of the wake and even pulled the ‘Michael Jackson’ pose, which as you might imagine involves your right hand grabbing your crotch and shouting something that sounds like ‘Shaaa-mon!’<br /><br />It was soon my go and I sat in the water, legs bent, touching my arse with my heels as I’d been instructed. The boat pulled away, and as instructed I didn’t fight the rope, and tried to let the boat pull me up. After about 0.5 seconds I was in a desperate fight with the rope and boat didn’t seem to be pulling me anywhere but under the water. After about 1 second I was going head first, doing a quite convincing impression of a basking shark as gallons of water went into and swilled around my mouth, and then with no gills to escape from it all went down into my stomach. Not a good start, I thought, as I coughed it all back up again. My second go achieved a similar fate, and I was probably on about my tenth go before I eventually managed to get standing, then changing direction, and then crossing the wake before taking a dip. Looking back now I think I got too much advice at the start and did the best when I just pulled myself up on instinct rather than doing everything I had been told. On my last go the driver, Tam, gave me a ‘circle of death’ which is a first timers initiation involving him driving in a circle as fast as he can, everyone on the boat shouting ‘C-O-D!’ ‘C-O-D!’ as loud as they can, and me spinning wider and wider on the rope, going faster than I can, right up until doing my second impression of the evening, this time of a skimming stone that had been thrown by a professional stone skimmer, as I bounced over the water crooking my neck and giving myself whiplash.<br /><br />Today I’m having to do that thing when you have to turn your whole body to look a different way, which is quite annoying, but nothing a nice rest won’t fix. I'm now wondering if I'm cool enough to pull off describing myself as a 'Boarder.<br /><br />Probably not.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-38986569877836373722008-08-28T15:27:00.006+00:002008-08-28T15:40:24.051+00:00Hello world.What with the <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/olympics/default.stm">Olympics</a> and <a href="http://fantasticcontraption.com/">Fantastic Contraption</a>, I have lost quite a bit of Blog momentum and not posted for a while. This leaves the frequently encountered problem of whether or not to back date a brief history of all that has happened (not a great deal) or write a post on one specific thing and loose any sense of continuity. I have decided to do neither, but to include this paragraph as some form of justification.<br /><br />One thing that has been very slowly emerging as some form of success of late has been my project at work. We got the fish breeding relatively quickly, but it has taken an age to get them successfully raising their young, rather than deciding to have a kiddie midnight feast. I have spent hours and hours in the aquarium recording what is going on in terms of the parent-parent and parent-offspring interactions which is reasonably interesting, but leaves me with a lot of spare time. Cue my latest craze of photography and playing round with the settings to try and get a decent photo of the parents with their young. It has proved difficult, the biggest problems being the low light and shooting through the glass and into water. However, a high <span style="font-style:italic;">n</span> value, rather than any great skill has served me well and I’ve had a few reasonably decent results. It’s just a shame that the colours darken up quite a bit during their parental stages:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgABxHmxeEeh3D_ScA4miFR4Ox3JniWqczxRNMPugPIhOklhpPBtZgxqfrEY_hR8I5b3guRUgwNu8C4lBszVDanh96cFbt1v55DphJrMG5M7ctToEk2jLNksurD7c1e2WpgfAXzIcxsa3FW/s1600-h/T423june08+003adjusted.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgABxHmxeEeh3D_ScA4miFR4Ox3JniWqczxRNMPugPIhOklhpPBtZgxqfrEY_hR8I5b3guRUgwNu8C4lBszVDanh96cFbt1v55DphJrMG5M7ctToEk2jLNksurD7c1e2WpgfAXzIcxsa3FW/s320/T423june08+003adjusted.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239592283390691058" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS0g0OBn2qLy6AKtDPVtVKX2jSO7q-oRKVRFeJKGtIZAGCCZb9bYznQQpCRrWdt5O7a-aIXaLpCfeUpsRKaVz2YSd0FwXn4k2ijNj8XsD46Vqa-bGdJd1sAVPC0abZcOPOKbUlExJFIkqO/s1600-h/Discus3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS0g0OBn2qLy6AKtDPVtVKX2jSO7q-oRKVRFeJKGtIZAGCCZb9bYznQQpCRrWdt5O7a-aIXaLpCfeUpsRKaVz2YSd0FwXn4k2ijNj8XsD46Vqa-bGdJd1sAVPC0abZcOPOKbUlExJFIkqO/s320/Discus3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239592808801596738" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuVPoxkp9199zTg4VjYUeT8p8Nk4zhRjMhqoRIB4KLro6QcU6snRdZHGq7TQa5Z_yjg-_t0wHuVxh-_L6pbNiF08WVtJnQhNmI_2fiq_Oz3-onQKyBADNajXksDfk4OB9bpcjTqR315jBW/s1600-h/Discus1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuVPoxkp9199zTg4VjYUeT8p8Nk4zhRjMhqoRIB4KLro6QcU6snRdZHGq7TQa5Z_yjg-_t0wHuVxh-_L6pbNiF08WVtJnQhNmI_2fiq_Oz3-onQKyBADNajXksDfk4OB9bpcjTqR315jBW/s320/Discus1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239592463721801970" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi22FEdPnpWD67F4jHGHTL8uQ17Sz3E2eRr9tSUlAQId5izmgx_-IBiHhzTgf4vp5t8rVuE-COVPE3w3LJ4_mXxMmYOfTS1nE5b4IFSLH84YUbeA8zg_gAF1zZFLI1t3pPRKPAMkMkdDF-K/s1600-h/Discus2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi22FEdPnpWD67F4jHGHTL8uQ17Sz3E2eRr9tSUlAQId5izmgx_-IBiHhzTgf4vp5t8rVuE-COVPE3w3LJ4_mXxMmYOfTS1nE5b4IFSLH84YUbeA8zg_gAF1zZFLI1t3pPRKPAMkMkdDF-K/s320/Discus2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239592595757195858" /></a>SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-18163072810469448682008-08-08T14:23:00.003+00:002008-08-08T14:30:17.135+00:00Diary timeSo here we are again.<br /><br />I called the Twin and felt quite sick as she answered in chirpy spirits and giggled down the phone to me. She was driving with The Other Twin so I said we needed to have a chat and asked when was a good time. She called back later and I said what I had rehearsed in my head – that I was enjoying seeing her, but that I didn’t see a long term future, so it was probably better to stop seeing each other. It was quite awkward and I didn’t enjoy it at all. I got a blank text from her about 10 minutes later which said ‘Nothing to display’ which I wondered if was her saying she had no emotion to display to me, but I later experimented and found out that it’s what gets displayed if you send a completely blank text. I thought about her debating whether or not to send me a text and then accidentally pressing send. Ive heard nothing since that text, so I hope she’s good and really wish her well.<br /><br />The ‘split’ was the sum of a few parts. I’d had a chat to a friend, GR, while canoeing, who I know speaks to the other Twin. She was asking what was happening and I said – we saw each other every few weeks and it was going ok. GR asked if I wanted to be ‘with’ the Twin and I didn’t really know. She said that I should either get together properly or not see her at all – that we had passed the point where it was OK to casually see her. After thinking about this I agreed that she was right, maybe I was being a bit selfish. Another friend said I was ‘using’ her which I think sounds harsh, but there might be some truth in it. I think the bottom line is that I was happy casually seeing her and didn’t realise she was now needing more commitment.<br /><br />I listened to ‘<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfq_A8nXMsQ">Everybodys Free (To Wear Sunscreen)</a>' and took some life instructions from it: ‘Don’t be reckless with anybody’s heart’<br /><br />The same weekend me and LEA got on really well. Over a bbq we drank some wine, chatted, flirted and later on had a bit of a cuddle before bed. I went back to my tent and wondered if I should have gone for more, but then woke up, thought ‘oh my head hurts’ and didn’t think much more about anything. On my way home I got a call from Barbie saying LEA had spoke to him, that she thought I had tried to kiss her goodnight and she had shied away and was now regretting it. Barbie said I should come back to Bris and take her out for a drink and chat. I was half way home and had to do 2 hours in the aquarium so said I couldn’t, but that I would call LEA later on. About 30 mins later a got a text from LEA saying she really liked me, was worried about breaking our friendship etc etc but would I like to go out.<br /><br />I thought about this all the way home, usually with a big smile on my face. I called her and said I felt the same and arranged to go back to Bris the next weekend. She’s now coming down here tomorrow.<br /><br />Things seem really good.<br /><br />So far.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-89482583664130839652008-08-08T09:47:00.003+00:002008-08-08T09:52:45.176+00:00A TradegyWhen I was at Uni up north I used to play 5-a-side football for a staff team. We were generally older, slower and less fit the whipper-snapper undergrad teams, but we partially compensated by having a greater experience of the game and better organisation. The team was quite an interesting mix. We had the local MP in goal who was excellent at debating with referees about their dodgy decisions. I used to play midfield with a chef from Barbados, right behind our striker ‘Fletch’. He was a particularly interesting character – a scouser, an ex-monk, and now a religious studies lecturer. He apparently used to be the monk with the thought of the day on the 90’s breakfast TV show ‘The Big Breakfast’, but I can’t find anything on Google to back this up. We had an average season, but not knowing many people in a new town I really enjoyed playing and having some banter with the guys. Fletch organised a Christmas meal, and everyone, particularly Fletch made me feel part of the team and we laughed and joked our way through that evening and the next season. Eventually work dictated that I move away and I rarely, then never, saw the team. <br /><br />I got sent a link to a Facebook group I could check the latest season’s results, and I heard that promotion was on the cards and that Fletch had got married and just had a little girl. Then last week I heard that Fletch had been to Australia on a conference, and had died from a heart attack.<br /><br />Time and distance apart had softened this blow to me, but it’s always a horrible shock when you hear of someone’s death, especially someone who was so young and had just started a family.<br /><br />'A Tradegy' just doesnt seem to do it justice.SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2959774412883057406.post-65402598328242534472008-07-30T14:42:00.004+00:002008-07-30T15:53:35.021+00:00SardinesWe had been driven up river, floated, paddled and swam down to the campsite, and everyone was now making severe dents into their BBQ, beer and wine supplies. Someone suggested a game of ‘Sardines’ which involves one person hiding in a set area and the others trying to find them. The twist is that when you do find the hider, you join them (ideally without anyone else seeing you) and this continues until the last person is walking around on their own. It can get quite scary in the dark on your own, particularly if you play it in a closed fairground, which we did. After the first game it was decided that everyone should pair up, as the dark and ghostly horse faces on the carousel were making everyone jump, giggle and then reach out for some nearby reassurance. In the second game, LEA (with whom there is some history) and I had to hide. We ran off into the dark as 12 other 25-30 year old adults got into a huddle and counted up to 60 out loud. We found a carriage on the carousel that was made to look like a pair of the ghostly horses were pulling it around. We managed to fit under the seats where we faced each other, both giving out prods and tickles in an attempt to make each other laugh out loud and give away our position.<br /><br />That was when it turned slightly scary.<br /><br />But funny.<br /><br />The fairground owner, a gypsy, came over and told some of the hunters that ‘this area is closed’ and ‘you should all leave right away’ The hunters took him seriously, but didn’t want to abandon the game. The Gypsy came over to the carousel and stepped up onto it, about 5 metres from where we lay. The whole metal base lurched over slightly under his weight, then clunked back up to level. We heard his footsteps as he traced a path across the carousel, then it lunged down and bounced up again as he stepped off. We heard the hunters calling out our names and telling us the game was over as everyone had to leave the fairground. We then saw J come over and he spotted us, dived into the carriage and started giggling with us, all in about 5 seconds. We whispered in the dark about what we should do, and were about to get up, when we heard someone else coming over. A couple came and stood right by the edge of the carriage. They began kissing, and for a horrible moment I thought they might come and sit in the carriage, but instead the girl got up on the horse pulling our carriage and the guy took some photos of her. The really strange thing for them, when they have a closer look at the photos, will be the 3 pairs of legs and feet visible in the background of their secret fairground elope.<br /><br />The Gypsy came over and moved them on, ‘its really not safe for you here’ the <span style="font-style:italic;">really</span> sounding severely intimidating to me, but probably more than it was meant to. I suddenly had visions of him pretending to have not seen us and start the carousel up, turning the speed up more and more until we flew out of the carriage and exploded on the concrete.<br /><br />But he didn’t. We heard him walk off again and then made our escape back to the tents, laughing like kids all the way.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">There is plenty more to this story, particularly parts involving LEA which will be explained later. I need to speak to the Twin tonight and call time on our involvement, the thought of doing which has been occupying my head for 2 days and is making me feel sick. I am a coward.</span>SMARTBuddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02604053240503232333noreply@blogger.com3