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.

I have finished...

...downloading and watching Prison Break. Its worth a watch, but is no 24. I have become slightly frustrated by the fact that the writers’ strike in the US has stopped both Prison Break and Heroes in mid series. I always assumed (quite naively, admittedly) that the writers would write the scripts for the whole series before they started filming. The reality seems to be that they write it on the hoof, giving them the flexibility to kill off old, and bring in new characters as the ratings demand.

...all the hard training for the Bath Half Marathon this Sunday. Just a few sprint intervals to do this week and I’m good for another go at getting under the magic 1h30mins.

...giving my first lecture. 10 years ago I was an undergrad in the same lecture hall. Last Weds I was teaching at the front. A nice moment.

...a year of blogging. Probably a month or so more in truth, but I was definitely in Hong Kong this time last year and remember writing about it, so I’ve made it through a whole year. Go me.

...over analysing what is happening / going to happen with the Twin and am just trying to enjoy what does and does not happen. ‘Date’ #4 last weekend of a slowly developing, but at least partially promising ‘relationship’.

...hoping that I will get someone into my room before the end of the month. The flat by the sea has worked out, but at the cost of two weeks with both rents. Thinking back I seem to remember saying that id happily do this if we got to live there so I guess I will get over it. The room mate hunt worked well to get a very promising 'random' into the flat, but has so far been unsuccessful in getting someone to take over my room at H-Bombs.

...laughing at Bristol Rovers 5-1 defeat to West Brom in the FA Cup. Just.

...this post.

Bring back Norris McWhirter

I went to Exeter on Saturday. I saw the Twin for a few hours then in the evening, in a different type of way, saw David Ford. I very much enjoyed the afternoon and evening. David Ford was/is a brilliant musician with a powerful, distinctive voice and a huge songwriting talent. He walked on and without a word began his song 'State of the Union' by playing and recording an instrument onto a loop which then continued playing as he sang and added in more and more instruments. It built up and up and up before he suddenly stopped the music and sang the last line unaccompanied. It was an amazing thing to witness live (not for the first time, YouTube has come to the rescue of my description).

Thinking about it afterwards I was in awe of his confidence at not mucking it up- it would really would have thrown a spanner in the works if he did as it would keep on playing over and over, and quickly become a whole set of spanners. This could easily have happened- during the gig he broke a string, the drum fell over, and his guitar strap came off - all of which would have caused a major problem with the recording bit.

Anyway, the gig was really good, but he is so intense, and the songs are so intensely downbeat that I found it quite draining. I'm not saying I think he shouldn't be intense, negative, and a bit miserable, but it really was an effort to get involved with each and every song as it consumed so much attention. After three or four songs I needed a few minutes relax and tell myself everything was going to be alright. In a 'normal' gig you can do this as you're stood up watching, dancing, or whatever and then you can go to the bar, have a joke with a friend or just throw some eye yarns round the room. In the venue he played, The Phoenix, everyone is sat down facing the stage and you're about 2 metres away from his guitar. It feels like it would be really rude to look away. You just have to sit there while he gives you both barrels and hope you dont black out.

Checking him out on YouTube I have seen a few really lighthearted, almost comedy covers ('My Heart Will Go On' and 'Stan' have lingered in my memory) either, or any other of which would have made some really good breaks in the intensity. He did cover Leonard Cohen, however, and he has a cover of The Smiths 'There Is A Light' on his myspace, so I guess he likes to cover dark songs as well as 'pop' ones, depending on his mood.

The support was Ruarri Joseph who was also highly enjoyable, and somewhat more optimistic in his words. I'm not sure if it was the lack of intensity, or something in the music, but I wasn't nearly as moved by his performance as David Ford's one. I'd quite like to be Ruarri Joseph's friend- but I didn't feel compelled to buy (Well, illegally download) his CD.

I also visited the narrowest street in the world (well nearly- see later)- which is only 64 cm wide at one end.

The wide (1.2m) end of the 2nd narrowest street in the world

However, after the narrowest street glory days of the 80's and 90's, the success was shook to its core in 2007 when a street in Germany successfully challenged Parliament and took its place in the Guinness Book of Records.



Have a look at the photo though. That's not a street! Its a gap between a building and a house- and a wooden house at that. Surely there must be some mistake. The standards of the Guinness World Records seem to have gone right off since Mcwhirter carked it. Theres no way he would have stood for this. Im seriously considering getting in there and sorting the world records team out before their own stock starts laughing at them.

I did wonder what criteria 'a street' actually has to have, but the Exeter one has at least got some doors to flats on it, so people live there. If the German ones allowed I may as well buy a bit of land, build two houses close together and then write to the council and say the 5 cm gap between them is a street. The Germans have missed the whole spirit of the narrowest street competition.

I think Exeter council should get some cement and reduce the gap slightly, just enough to get some of Mcwhirter's paduwans down with their ruler. I want to see Parliament Street back where it belongs as top of the narrow street pile.

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

The Saturday night twins

I arrived back in Bristol on Saturday morning and then set off to watch Gloucester clinch top spot in the Premiership with a win over Bristol at Ashton gate. After the game I get back to my folks’ house at about 6. I’m tired, and very hungry but happy after an enjoyable afternoon. I consider going up the local fish and chip shop, but then I decide that I can’t face the small but significant amount of effort it would take to put my shoes on and go outside.

A thirty minute power-nap later and Im searching in a giant chest freezer for something to eat. Im deep into the frozen products, maybe a foot and a half under the recently added top layer. This is nearly permafrost down here and I struggle to scrape the ice off each box and read what it is. I finally find something to go with the chips and peas found half way through this frozen transect, but the fish fingers look like they might be from the 1980’s. On the box Captain Birdseye looks like a fresh faced twenty-five year old.

Later on and I’m out in Bristol for a birthday celebration. We’re sat in the White Lion in Clifton village which has a beer garden (though they probably call it an outdoor terrace in these posh parts) that has a cool view of the Clifton Suspension Bridge. It’s a picture postcard scene, and with the garden heater warming my back I’m almost completely over the fact that it was £6.90 for a pint and a Corona.

A friend of a friend is out, along with her twin sister. I find it strange that I don’t find Twin 2 anywhere near as attractive as Twin 1. They’re identical, but there is just something about T1 that T2 the other hasn’t got. This interests me. Could it be the familiarity? (I’ve met T1 before, but not T2). Or fashion sense? (they’re not identically dressed and T1’s legs do look good in her leggins) Or smell? (Ive not consciously smelt either, but I bet somewhere in my brain I know what they both smell like). Maybe it’s this ‘chemistry’ thing people mention but never satisfactorily explain? Or perhaps my looks assessment is being affected by the fact that I thought T2 was a bit stupid after speaking to her.

Later on I meet T1’s boyfriend, who also seems a bit stupid and I wish he was with T2 instead. He doesn’t want to come to the club, but T2 is up for it. T1 eventually decides to accompany her sister to the regular Bristol nightclub, and leaves her boyfriend in a huff. For the time being T1 seems happier now she’s away from the boyfriend and we have a good chat. She insists I give her a piggyback across some cobbles on the way and as we enter the club my mind is racing. Then after being inside for about two and a half minutes they decide they’re leaving as someone (the boyfriend, I think, but not sure) is upset.

Another friend who is normally really composed looses the plot. She was chatting to her ex-boyfriend and she saw his female housemate getting upset while she was talking to him. Now my friend and the other girl are both crying and its time to get home. I don’t think ill ever understand female minds, and there’s no way Ill ever make sense of a female who has been drinking.

Good night though.