Nothing compares to Shamu

Things 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.

Today at 3.30 pm I sat up in a strange bed and said,

‘I really should get going, It’s not fair on you to hang round here all day’

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.

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.



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.

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:

Oh my god.

Really?

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.

And then they dissapear.

My thoughts turn to the dark side for a few minutes.

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.

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

There is a lot to think about...

Songs / Psychology

I’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.

There was an interesting, timely article on New Scientist this week that asked the question is it really bad to be sad? (it’s here, but I think you might need subscription, and seems to be based on this book). 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;

"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."

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.

I have, like last time, 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.

Or maybe you just interpret things how you want to.

Who knows.

The 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.

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.

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.

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.

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…



Happy New year plans.

Being friends?

Sorry, its boring I know, but another diary post has to be gotten off ones chest...

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' Mr Brightside 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 All I Want For Christmas Is You. 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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);

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.

The blogTV show, ‘Living with my ex in the same flat’ will begin in the New Year.

Merry Xmas y’all.

*her dancing and flirting with some cocks last week were The Truth - star of the last post.

Errors and issues (featuring The Truth).

For fuck’s sake.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I guess, like everyone else, we could go either way. Time has it in her hands.

Krypton Fish Amazon Factor

By 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.

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.

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?

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.

Time will tell.

Very apt...

I've just had the craziest week,
Like a party bag of lies, booze and then deceit.
And I don't know why I want to voice this out loud,
It's therapeutic somehow.

So I'm moving to New York cos I've got problems with my sleep,
And we're not the same and I will wear that on my sleeve.
So I'm moving to New York cos I've got issues with my sleep,
Looks like Christmas came early, Christmas came early for me.

I put one foot forward and ended up thirty yards back,
Am I losing touch? Or am I just completely off the track?
And I don’t know why I want to voice this out loud,
It’s therapeutic somehow.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZTEN359V8pI

(...apart from the moving to New York bit)

Oh. (Dumped)

Oh.

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?

I email her at lunchtime, ‘Hey! Are you back?’

She replies, ‘Yeah’

Nothing else. One word. Not even a full stop.

Oh.

This is not good.

I don’t reply.

The afternoon passes.

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.

'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'

Oh.

So that’s it.

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:

1. Does that mean she’s shacked up with some cunt on her holiday?
2. What am I going to do with the tickets I bought for us to go and see Tim Minchin on Sunday?
3. I cringe at the thought of sending her a FaceBook message while she was on holiday saying that I missed her loads.
4. What / How has (this) gone wrong in such a short space of time?
5. I don’t think I want to be friends with her. Ive seen a different side and cant go back.

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.

I feel more angry than distraught.

But I still cry a little bit.

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.

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:

‘WTF?! Youre so weird. You shouldnt fuck about with peoples feelings’

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.’

Panic!

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 when I finished with the Twin and got a blank text through; I guess she wasn’t quite so lucky with the cancelling.

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;

‘Oh. Understood. I am gutted. You shouldnt be so fickle with peoples hearts’

No Reply.

Good.

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.

Oh.

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, the city I stayed in for 6 weeks last year.

I hope AnnE and DPsyc are not downstairs as Ill have to tell them and it will be rubbish.

Dumped.

Oh.

The 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Good weekends to you all.

Diary time

So here we are again.

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.

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.

I listened to ‘Everybodys Free (To Wear Sunscreen)' and took some life instructions from it: ‘Don’t be reckless with anybody’s heart’

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.

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.

Things seem really good.

So far.

Sardines

We 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.

That was when it turned slightly scary.

But funny.

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.

The Gypsy came over and moved them on, ‘its really not safe for you here’ the really 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.

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.

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.

What is right, wrong, complicated and simple?

Its difficult to say sometimes. It feels like only a few weeks ago that everything was rosy with The Twin. I made a special trip into town to buy new pants and condoms- a trip that occurred rapidly after a

"Hey are you coming down this weekend?"

"Yeah ill come Sat night and stay..?..?" conversation.

Then a few weeks later and not much is happening. The holiday to Biarittz is looming and the novelty and spark remains present, but the distance our homes are apart often makes the spark difficult to see, or at worse, even notice it is there.

Plus, there was another girl incident.

I went to a BBQ with AnnE, the new housemate, which turned out to be a good laugh, a few too many beers and a lot of things to think about. I set out to only have a couple of drinks, but quickly found myself getting through 6 cans, and AnnE began supplying me some of her bottles. Then there were a few shots, and we set out into town. AnnE had touched my shoulder a few times early on, made some eye contact during the BBQ, but at the time I put it down to her being friendly; looking after me as I didn’t know anyone there. Then the contact got more often and more obvious, leaning on me in the hallway while we waited for the others, an arm through mine as we walked into town, grabbing my hand as we entered the club. I was reasonably drunk by now, AnnE had drunk a few, and the other girls were ‘Mortal’ as the Geordie among them so amusingly described. It soon became obvious, even to me, that AnnE was directing the touching and laughing to end in a kiss. A few times she put herself right in front of me and gave me the look, but I broke away, surprised, flattered, confused. She asked me about The Twin- is she my girlfriend? I replied that she wasn't - that I wasn't sure what she is, or was. With hindsight, I should have said that yes she was, as it probably would have made it a more straightforward evening. I didn’t, of course, and the looks carried on to the point where a few times I had to kiss her on the lips then make a point of it only being a peck, with no hanging round waiting for tongues. The dancing and flirting continued and reached a point where I thought I have to either kiss her or tell her not to do it anymore. I pulled her off the dance floor and said something along the lines of,

"I really like you, and part of me wants to go for it, but there are some reasons why me and you kissing here in Jesters (the nightclub- rough as a bag of spanners) tonight is not a good idea. I’d really like to kiss you now (pause, smile) but I don’t think it’s a good idea. We live together, and I’m not really sure where I stand with The Twin, or what’s right and wrong here."

(if only there was a transcript of what actually came out of my mouth so I could compare!)

She seemed fine with this, and although probably a bit embarrassed, a weight of expectation was lifted from us and left us to enjoy the night a bit more. We danced to The Killers, drank a few more, had some banter with the locals and watched from the sidelines as her friends got tagged by the young guns of Union Street. Then we were walking home, holding hands. Then she pulled my hand and arm up around her shoulder. At home we sat on the balcony for a bit and I threw a prowling cat some dog biscuits. There were plenty more opportunities for a kiss, we were close and comfortably so. The boundaries becoming blurred once again. I thought in my head that I still didn’t think anything should happen, so I stretched a bedtime yawn and headed upstairs. She came over for a last hug before bed, and I gave her another brief kiss on the lips, not letting anything more happen. It was goodnight, then the next thing I knew I was awake with a hangover that bent my spine.

My other housemate, DPsyc, and me were heading out at midday to watch the start of the Artemis Transat - a single handed sailing race from here to Boston. AnnE had been out playing squash, but joined us later and there was a slight awkwardness as she came over and sat down. I asked her if she had made it up for squash, even though I already knew that she had. She confirmed what I already knew, and said she wasn’t hung over, just tired. I’m not sure if she means to include the extra meaning included in this statement.

I decided not to tell DPsyc about the nights events, as I’m not entirely sure what he’ll make of them, and maybe AnnE would feel better without me gossiping. I don’t feel like I’ve done anything wrong - in fact I'm quite pleased with myself for both having a girl like AnnE throw herself at me, and for me doing the ‘right’, or if not, sensible thing of not sleeping with her. Later in the evening we sat down and watch Indiana Jones cheese it up in the Temple of Doom, but there is no mention of the previous evening's activities.

There has been complete radio silence with The Twin for 6 days, which does leave me with a lot to think about.

I think I did the right thing. But you never really know until hindsight has taken a good look, do you?

Bird, Hand, Bush, etc

I sprint through the car park rain and then laugh with the reception girl about how heavy the downpour has been. I scan the room and see the familiar faces are at the bar. On my way over I notice that everyone is wearing a suit and am glad I decided to dust off the Vietnamese silk and do the same. My friends see me coming and wait, expectantly. The recognition of their faces washes a recollection of my previous life over my senses. I get memories of previous laughs and achievements, and think back gratefully for fate giving me the chance to become friends with the faces I see before me now. Its fantastic. There are a few handshakes and a few nods, lots of smiles. The conversation begins a little formally but soon slips through the whats and whens of current work and finds its way into a pile of giggles and previous stories. Over the next 9 hours we have canapés, lunch and dinner, all washed down by drinks supplied by the free bar. I laugh so hard my eyes water, we make promises to arrange more meetings over the summer and take turns to talk our way down the paths our lives have taken since we all lived in that city up north.

At 9.30 its time for me to make my goodbyes. I’m sad to leave prematurely, but the group is beginning to fragment and sleep, alcohol, or both, has a strong grip on the remaining members. I drive off into the rain that has not relented all day, but my mind is not yet preparing for sleep. A random set of texts has made my destination a bar in town where LEA is out with some friends and has invited me to pop in to say hi on my way home. This is the first time I’ve seen her without the presence of our mutual friend, which adds an edge of trepidation as I park the car and run through the rain and shrieks of the city. I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing here, not sure what I want, or expect from this meeting, but my presence here is undeniable. I fear for a moment that the bouncer has not taken a shine to my overdressed attire, but a slight nod beckons me past a group who are in a vocal dispute with the cashier.

LEA is, as always, exceptionally friendly and seems glad to see me. We talk, flirt a bit, occasionally bordering into quite a lot, but my soberness remains in charge. After 2 drinks I say I’ve got to leave and I hug goodbyes to the group. LEA gets her farewell hug, but before I leave she says she is walking me to the door. Now we are on our own with another hug and a kiss on the cheek but the hug remains in place longer than it might. We have a brief conversation about the coming weekends Easter trip and another kiss. This one lands half on lips, half on cheek, and like the hug before it, also lingers for a moment longer than was originally scheduled. In my head I was going for the cheek again, but may have got drawn slightly off course by some gravity-laden eyes. This is dangerous ground. I pull away and pretend I hadn’t just read anything into what had happened.

Now i’m running in the rain for the third time today. I’ve got to get home and sleep before the Bath Half Marathon tomorrow but my mind runs a blur with what I could Vs should have done earlier on. At half midnightish I get a text that I expect to be from LEA, but turns out to be from the Twin saying shes drunk and is wishing me luck for the race.

Decisions.

The Girls of the SMARTBuddy Mansion

Diary: I recently read some of my old posts and enjoyed remembering how I was thinking at the time, how perspectives have changed and so on, so I’m going to do another post for my own benefit in 6 months time...

The current crop from the mansion are:

Carrie from Christmas eve had, as she does, slipped from my mind until I just read my list of posts on my Blogger Dashboard. The day after I posted about her I was pointed in the direction of her FaceBook account by the C-Unit and messaged her, but have received nothing back. I wish I hadn’t been so clever in my message now. I can’t possibly send another. It’s probably for the best. She's called Carrie from Christmas Eve for a reason.

Girl A has moved to Australia. Oh well.

LEA is somewhat missing in action. We text a bit, but I think she’s more lonely than interested, but I’m not sure. She’s great, and we have ‘potential’, but I don’t think I’ll even see her until the spring or summer, by which time she will probably be married.

The Saturday night twin: The radio silence was unexpectedly broken soon after the last post and over the next week we sent the occasional flurry of texts which eventually set up a 'lunch date' for the coming Sunday. She had been to visit her mum in Cornwall and got off her train at Plym Station on her way home. Unfortunately for me that was the only getting off that the day was to see. I met her just outside the station. It was a little awkward. I drove us to the Barbican and since it was too early for lunch I suggested we go to the aquarium. This was probably a little selfish, but I saw it and immediately thought it would be a good place to walk around, have a chat, relax, and have something to look at during times when we had nothing to say. After thinking about it for another 20-30 seconds I thought it was a genius idea, but probably shouldn’t have told her so.

It was really good and I was enjoying it. They had a huge tank of UK fish like I saw snorkeling last year, and a tropical tank with loads of fish I saw in Sumatra. I think my favourite thing was a very large (football sized) octopus that I’ve never seen close up before, but who could probably have done with a bigger tank. The twin was easy to talk to, seemed quite relaxed and we had (well, I had) a good time. It was good to have her there without the other twin knocking about as unlike at New Year it was always really easy to tell who she was and who she wasn’t.

Then we went for lunch, which I was struggling with a bit on two fronts. I was mildly hungover and exceptionally full. I had been out the night before for 6 pints of Guinness, which is dinner in itself, but also had two normal dinners (I had dinner at home then got invited out by El Capitano with whom, after a few beers, I went for a curry with). Even after skipping brekkie in the morning I still felt like I’d just eaten my own liver, and a pub lunch with a pint didn’t really have its usual appeal. The food, thankfully, was good, and I managed to eat most of it in between feeling the early onset of obesity. The talk was fine. It was nice. It wasn’t amazingly good or bad, and continued over a cup of tea at my house and a lift back to the train station. I gave her a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek goodbye. I even broke out a wave as she walked off and looked back. That was it.

I guess my main thoughts are that it was fun, but not as much fun as meeting while drunk and kissing. I was being so measured and precise in everything I said- I’m sure she was as well. Pretty much everything I said got proof read before it came out to make sure there was nothing too strange in it. This, coupled with the fact that we didn’t really know each other led to lots of candy conversation about what we both did, what family we had, what we both did and what family we had. There was no blurting out of anything that would have given some real information about who we were, or who we were pretending to be (which would have been something at least). My sober brain was busy analysing what was being said, the behaviours we were displaying, the silences, the eye contact, but I didn’t really learn anything of note. Bring back getting ruined and drunk conversations any day. My previous few relationships have all evolved out of seeing someone out a few times, having a kiss or more over a series of drunken nights, from which we have, or have not, emerged a few months later as a couple.

I agree that that probably says more about me than her, but I’m not really thrilled or giddy, or whatever else I feel I should be about the prospect of two or three months of getting to know someone. It’s really not her- I wouldn’t want two or three months of sober conversations with Jessica Alba. I'm serious*. I want an instant hit. I want results. I just want to know. Maybe the Saturday night twin and I would be good together, but it’s going to take forever to even find out at this rate.
The main problem is that she lives in a different city. This means we’re trying to get to know each other without the benefit of being able to pop out for lunch, or a beer, or ten beers. This is no small thing. If it was the summer we could go camping or something. If one of us was really keen we could see each other on weeknights. If she lived up the street, we’d know in a few days if it’s going to be worth a go. They say long distance relationships are a struggle, but at least there is a relationship; this a long distance non relationship. I don’t know if it’s worth carrying on. So dont carry on, right?

The only other fact that has some bearing on the above is a holiday. Last week Barbie emails me to see if I want to go on a camping / surfing holiday to Biarittz at the end of May. I bite his electronic hand off as this sounds totally excellent. He buys flights, books the campsite and says, quite casually the next day,

‘Oh you know the Saturday night twin is going, don’t you?’

‘What? No. What?’

‘Yeah, shes going. Oh and LEA as well’

‘What? Nooo. Really?’

So now I'm going on holiday with the Saturday night twin in May. How awkward is that?! Ive got to explain to her how this happened without me knowing. How it really happened without me knowing, and not that I made it happen, which is how it looks. Plus now I’ve got this holiday hanging over my non-relationship like a smell that I can’t quite tell is good or bad. It could be good. Great even. It could be shit. It could be one of the smells that we keep in the fume cupboard that if you smell too much you die. It depends on what happens over the next few months. And LEA will be there to witness it all going off.

Good stuff Barbie.

*Well nearly.

Kissing the Saturday night Twin

New Years Eve.

I’m dressed in a Toast-inspired but not quite up to standard Robot costume made to satisfy the ‘first letter of your name’ fancy dress theme. (Me and Jesus, kicking it over a beer).

With one hour to go until 2008 becomes a reality we have broken the confines of the Clifton house party and ventured to a local bar. I’m really enjoying not having to queue at the bar, the medium to poor quality 'Ere mate, what are you, some sort of Robot' banter with the locals, and what can only be described as ‘flirting’ (go me!) with some of the party.

The Saturday night Twins are here, and I speak to both of them a few times (though I was never quite sure which was which). One of them seems up for it; tickling me, putting her arm round me, and hitting me with eye-yarns* from all over the bar. The only small problem is that there are two of them - they are twins after all - so I'm never really sure who I have, or haven't tickled back, or told that funny story to already. Several times over the next hour I feel uncomfortable talking to either or both of them as I’m not entirely sure where, or with which one, I stand anywhere with.

It very slowly dawns on me that they’re wearing different outfits, and it becomes easier (well very simple, I suppose, writing this now) to tell them apart, and it seems T2 is the interested twin (My least favourite from my original encounter) but I don't give fact this much thought. The next thing I realise is its 2008, and I’m at the bar, robot helmet removed, but outfit otherwise intact, kissing T2. I found out later that before we’d even finished, a picture message of the encounter was making its way from Barbie's phone to JB’s - a friend on holiday in New Zealand – which is in no other related to the story, but a surreal thought I thought worthy of a mention.

I enjoy myself for the rest of the evening, but get slightly concerned by some of the things T2 is coming out with. By 3 am, everyone is back at the house, the Singstar comp has been won and lost, and everyone is dropping off to sleep (including T2). I'd be quite up for sleeping with T2, but not in a body filled sleepover room at either this, or Barbies flat. I decide its time to bail, so make my goodbyes and walk back to Barbie’s flat wearing my robot legs (the rest was MIA) and carrying a borrowed dining chair. Unfortunately I was neither drunk, nor sober enough to make another random diary video at this point, as it probably would have been another beauty.

New Year’s morning brings a hangover, 4 cups of tea, a TV re-run of the year-ending Take That concert (described brilliantly here), and the steady emergence of friends from their first 2008 slumber. Most are sick (literally- one in the kitchen sink when the bathroom was occupied), some are bright eyed (but not many), and one is bushy tailed (the cat). An initial text exchange with T2 (when I gave out three kisses (‘xxx’) at the end of my message and immediately felt like a right little floozy) has, over the past few days, quickly developed into complete radio silence.

Nevertheless, best start to the year in years!

*Eye Yarns. A phrase from Big J in Brazil: ‘Chatting up’ is a Spinning a Yarn. ‘Giving the eye to’ is an Eye Yarn

Carrie from Christmas Eve

Prologue: At the 1996 6th form party Carrie comes and sits on my lap, we talk and I’m reasonably sure I was too drunk to lay down any tangible memory of what unfolded next. This was back in the day when a party snog came more readily than a serious conversation - a trend which has been depressingly reversed in more recent times.

Christmas Eves:

Carrie is one of those people I only ever see on Christmas Eve. She’s there down the local in amongst the frequent knowing nods and occasional awkward conversation that the Christmas cheer - or maybe just the Stella - seems to make slightly more enjoyable than difficult. I’m not sure exactly when we were Christmas Eve reunited after the teenage encounter, but know for certain that ive spoken to her exclusively on Christmas eves for the past 5 years, and possibly a couple more previous to that. Given this fact, I think our relationship is going well. We’ve progressed through the, ‘Hey hows it going’ ...If you asked me now I’m not sure I really know who you are... of the awkward first conversation, through the years of familiar smiles and, ‘Oh Hiya – I only ever really see you on Christmas Eve!’ On to the, ‘See you next year’ and, a year later, ‘Oh Hi, hows it going?’

I've learnt she’s a dentist, and now seems to work for a few months and then goes travelling for the rest of the year. She does both surfing and snowboarding is virtually always the coolest person I meet up the pub on Christmas Eve. In short; I fancy her, but only once a year.

In the last two years we’ve gone on to another pub after the first one like we’ve known each other for years (we have, in a way) and most significantly this year (at least in my head), we did this alone.

I can’t say for her, of course, but in my head at least it was a case of get into another pub, have a beer or two and get a Christmas kiss in. The trouble was this year we couldn’t find a bastard pub that would let us in. After four pub refusals for a variety of not very Christmassy reasons, we made it to the Golden Lion where her brother was inside enjoying a lock in. The doorman was not in the slightest bit interested in a bit of Christmas banter and our available two options both seemed to involve fucking right off. Carrie was staying at her brothers in Downend – quite a hike away – so I found it strange that her brother was more worried about loosing his place in the lock in than helping his sister out. On any other night I would have offered her to stay at my parents and I could have given her a lift in the morning, but this was, after all Christmas Eve, so it didn’t really seem like an option. I couldn’t read whether Carrie wanted me to walk her home (I would have gladly) or wait with her until the pub chucked out, or just snog her face off in the car park*. After probably not enough thought I stood up to the doorman and told him he should let Carrie in as she was a girl on her own and needed to be safe inside with her brother. He agreed to this, which left me just a few seconds - with her brother and the doorman both staring me down - to make my move. Obviously I bailed, and just went for the kiss on the cheek, the ‘Happy Christmas’ and the hug (trying to leave it that micro second longer than I would of if I didn’t care).

Ten seconds later and I’m walking away with no phone number, no email or Facebook-stalking** details (I don’t even know her surname) and 364 days to think about what could have been.

* Two points-
1. This was more like my dream than a realistic option, but hey, this is my Blog.
2. Yes, I just said ‘snog her face off.’

** I don’t like the word stalk, but it is stalking; and don’t pretend you don’t do it. It may as well be called Stalkbook

Moff

Sorry for the slightly wayward nature of this post- there has been little time to write of late, but I felt like I should document the fact that I'm off for 2 months doing some work, sorry 'work' and having a holiday.

So after months of planning the Wednesday of the Brazil trip has very nearly arrived. Its been a hectic few weeks since JD did the deed on the sofa cushion, time which has seen me grow further apart from my housemates, and from which I am looking forward to the coming break. There have actually been a lot of interesting female interactions of late;

I had my first ex contact me through Facebook, and declare that we are 'friends', which is a bit rich seeing how we've had no contact for 6 years, and, had no more contact for about 2 weeks since we reestablished this 'friendship'.

A student in my office today seemed unnervingly attractive for a few minutes while we discussed her project, and the moment did its best not to pass.

Ive been having getting (and sending) a lot of texts and emails from my recently single friend, LEA, and have twice (though that's not including now, so three times really) considered what might have happened if my next trip was back to the homeland rather than to Manaus.

I have been finding my housemate, L-upstairs increasingly distant, annoying, and unjustifiably sexy in equal measure.

Nearly nine weeks away will hopefully be a multipurpose fire extinguisher for those flames, or at least stop them burning my mind while I'm away. The trip is 6 weeks in Brazil with work and then 3 weeks in Sumatra with my friend Barbie on holiday. I have left 5 hours between my return flight from Brazil gets in and my flight to Indonesia leaves.

That's plenty of time, right?

I hope so.

Ive been making a pile of stuff in my room to pack, and its quickly becoming a mountain with all the additional lab equipment I need to take. Things like 120 syringes in my bag might make a customs visit slightly interesting. That said, and already accepting a few more hassles and last minute problems tomorrow, there is going to be a point very soon when we board a boat to go on a research trip up the Amazon. I'm immensely looking forward to seeing the river and its wildlife up close. This is the type of trip that I got into science for, the type of trip that I dreamt of making as I watched fish swimming in the river Frome as a kid. There seems little doubt that it will be truly awesome- and that's before Ive even got on the plane to Sumatra. I just hope there's a pub in Manaus that will be showing England win the Rugby world cup on Saturday.

Until next time.

Fishing, drinking and dressing up adventures

It got dark and i retreated into my bivvy (den) to keep warm. My rods were ready, two baits in the margins and one about 30 yards in front, all single, sinking, caramel flavoured boilies. The bite alarms were waiting to alert me to a carp taking line. I was too on edge to sleep, so made a cup of tea, fidgeted, and eventually got out my phone. I randomly clicked my way through to the new recorded videos section. The dark screen shot of MOV00030 seemed unfamiliar, and said it was from 3.14am on Friday night. I clicked it twice to get it playing and saw an image of my (silver- I'm getting to this bit) face swing into semi-focus out of the blackness. The timer said it would go on for 2 minutes 12 seconds. I was walking back from the club, alone. The first ten seconds was me explaining, in a horribly drunk voice that I was doing a video diary of my thoughts as I was obviously not going to remember anything the following day. I was, evidently, right, as I had no memory of making this video, and became curious and slightly nervous as to what i might come out with.

I should explain a little background. There was a leaving party on Friday night with work and a Superhero theme for fancy dress had been called. I went as the Silver Surfer- I spray painted a rash vest and pair of boardies silver, got some face and body paint for my head and legs and then silver hair sprayed my hair. I also made a board out of a polystyrene sheet and wrapped it in tin foil. To be fair, it was a good costume. I got on the wine and quickly arrived at the village of Too Much Wine, which I decided looked like a rubbish place to stop for the night so carried onto the next town. I arrived at Far Too Much Wine quickly and then really started caning it, and then got on the beer and eventually spirits. By about 1 am, I had, as a friend once so insightfully described, 'gone to the other side'

I paused the video and got into my sleeping bag as the clear sky was making the air cool a lot faster than my jumper alone could warm it. MOV00030 continued and I squirmed with embarrassment and disbelief as I described my thoughts on:

1) The difficulty of walking in a straight line and how I kept stumbling to the left.
2) Girls at the party; I apparently 'fancied' Lara Croft and something about trying to dance with another.
3) The fact that I was worried about the lack of sleep aspect of getting up for the camping trip the next morning.
4) The fact that I was worried about whether or not I would remember to have a shower when I got in (I didn't, my quilt and pillow is now also silver).

At one point a car goes past and beeps at me and someone shouts something at me, but its hard to hear or see what happened as the video and sound gets blurred.

Of the 4 points above I vaguely remember half of point 2 (Lara was hot, if a little posh) but nothing about making the video. I told my workmates this story and they thought it was funny to record yourself when drunk. They also laughed at the thought of me walking up a road with silver surf board in one hand and phone in the other, filming myself talking to myself about myself.* I have to agree that is slightly unusual behaviour. They wanted to see the clip but I made an excuse as I didn't want them to hear the bit with about point 2.

I lie back and eventually relax. The black closes in and I'm asleep.

Zzz

Zzzz

Zzz

ZzBEEEEEE-EEEE-EEEEEEP BEEE-EEEEEEEEEEEEE-EEEEEEEEP and my middle rod has screamed off. I fall out of bed, out of the tent and eventually make it to the rod and strike into the fish. 15lbs 4oz, a mirror carp. Steveo also gets a run at 5 o'clock ish and it turns out to be a 26lb 4oz beast of a carp. Im chuffed for him, and immediately our yearly night fishing session is a success.

*It seems crazy, but at that point in the post a iwas talking about myself filming myself talking to myself about myself. The chances of this happening again seem very remote.

Soz, but once again its all about me.

Some facts about my weekend:

I got changed into a really posh hired suit in a campsite, while 8 old people cheered from their static caravans.

I got up to do my reading during the wedding and the church setting and powerful words reminded me of doing a reading at my nan's funeral last year. This was awkward and quickly uncomfortable as I went from quite casually reading it out to a struggle to maintain my composure. Afterwards, a lot of people said that they thought my reading was 'brilliant' or that they 'loved it,' so I'm not sure if they were being nice, or if the tension in my voice and face added something to some of the words. I hope that most of the drama was in my head.

JA4 was on bail for Affray and Actual Bodily Harm during 2007 and had a darker side that I didnt know about. He dumped LEA and has since been a nightmare towards her, such as hacking into her Facebook account and then demanding to know who her friends were. This is not the guy I knew. I'm confused as to what I should think about him. Even weirder is that I have been summoned to do jury service in the 'Stol for two weeks and it seems likely that this period would coincide with his trial. Obviously I wont be doing it, but I found myself imagining my confusion if id not found out, and gone to court and then JA4 walked up to the dock.

I sensed an unusual parental urge to look after my parents who came to the wedding reception, but didn't know many people. I kept looking to see if they were alright or on their own, which felt strange, but good*.

I felt a twinge of unexpected attraction toward one of my friends who was looking particularly hot*.

I came home to find out 3 of my housemates are moving out; French T I knew about, but Gay A (AKA Andre the giant....) and M & N downstairs are also leaving. I am gutted T is leaving as we get on really well but I am happy that the others are leaving.

*A large quantity of the local 'Summer Ale' was almost certainly responsible for exacerbating these emotions and dwelling on them more than would usually be deemed appropriate.

Socially separated friend

During my lunch hour today I was organising and booking camping pitches for wedding #3, which is on Saturday. A few of us have decided to camp nearby rather than get a taxi home as there are no local hotels. I started a group email with about 15 people who are going to the wedding, and very quickly 'reply to all's began pinging into the inboxes up and down the country.

One couple not in the email list are LEA and JA4, two friends who I have got to know quite well over the past 3 years. LEA went to Uni with another friend Barbie, and through him, about 15 weekends away and several bottles of wine I have become really good friends with them both. They’ve recently bought a new house and I was emailing LEA last week about a possible night out in the homeland. She also confirmed that her and JA4 would take one of the camping pitches.

The next email is from Barbie saying that LEA and JA4 have split up.

I'm shocked. I have to read the words again to make sure I have understood correctly. There are no details, Barbie just says that he found out on Monday, and that LEA will still come to the wedding on her own.

I spend the rest of the afternoon wondering what has happened. I consider emailing one or both of them, but think better of it. I feel sad for them both. I am also sad that my friendship-through-a-friend with JA4 is effectively over. Although in theory it would be OK for me to speak to and hangout with him, in reality we became friends because of the fact that he was seeing (in fact practically married to) LEA who was good friends with Barbie. There is just not going to be the opportunity for us to hang out. Its really sad, but the chances are now that ill never see him again.

Ive got quite a lot of female friends, and thinking about it now I can recall at least 3 other guys from the past who I've got to know for years, grown to consider them as really good friends and then have them socially separated from me by a break up. This seems awfully unfair, especially when there are people like Mr Negative knocking about who I also spend time with because of their relationships with my friends, but who are complete dicks.

(Reading this back I guess I should be caring more about LEA feelings and what has happened rather than acting like its all about me.

Dam it.)
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On a separate note.

Do you ever jog up the stairs, get halfway up and then just loose all rhythm, get scared you might trip up, and then with your confidence in tatters have to hold the bannister and slowly start climbing again?

Oh, just me then.