Stead is organising a Concert to raise some cash for the victims of the tsunami. http://www.yateonline.co.uk/whatson.htm
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Tsunami
Mention should be made of the devastating tsunami that hit various parts of Indonesia, Thailand, India and so-on on Boxing Day. Much has been said on the net about it, and I can only echo those sentiments. It was a terrible day for those involved.
Vic’s Bum Ruins Christmas
Before I get to the part about Vic’s bum ruining Christmas for the entire family, I shall tell you about the circumstances that surrounded it.
Our original plan for Christmas was to hold it at our house again. Unfortunately this was impossible as we had very kindly allowed Vic’s Dad, who is currently ‘between houses’ having moved to Yorkshire, to store his furniture in our spare room. So with teeth gritted, we agreed to go to Mum’s for Christmas. Chris, my younger brother, was not going to be there as he was unable to get time off work (he’s a nurse), which was a shame, because he’s usually the only saving grace about going to Mum’s. On the plus side, Vic’s mum was invited over for the day, which meant that we didn’t have to rush off to engage in the obligatory visitations straight after lunch.
Having finished work at lunchtime (absolute bonus, that. Didn’t even have to take the half day as holiday) I winged my way home with the Stead. Vic, the dirty stopout, sloped off to the pub for the afternoon.
So we finally left to go ‘down south’ at about 7, arriving at 9.30ish. Darnit. That means we missed Midnight Mass at 8pm. Shame.
Anyway, after a morning or utter, utter boredom (Where’s the Bored Board when you need it?), and Russ’ normal Christmas bad mood, we sat down to dinner, which was very tasty. Christmas dinners are great. Especially when the turkey’s been covered in bacon. Mmmmm… bacon…
Then we got to the present-opening part of the day. This is where Vic’s bum and the ruining of Christmas comes into play.
Having cunningly tricked the Vickster into performing Chris’ traditional role of distributing the presents from under the tree, Vic engaged in the activity with gusto. And a splendid job she did of it, too. Until she decided to crawl under the tree to get the last few gifts from the back.
Bad move, that.
The towering elevation of Vic’s derriere caused the tree to descend in a graceful arc onto the floor, scattering baubles in glorious devastation.
Christmas. Ruined. By Vic’s bum.
Of course, I exaggerate. Christmas was not ruined at all. It was pretty comical, though. Heh.
Even better, was that despite being 250 miles away and working a 12 hour Christmas day shift, Chris still managed to make my day by telephoning at about 8pm, on his return from work. He decided to open his presents on the phone (bear in mind at this point, that both parents and Vic’s mum were present in the room and Chris, unbeknownst to him had been placed on speakerphone, so all could enjoy his delight at his presents).
Upon opening my present to him (and all the while thinking that I was the only one that could hear him), Chris enquired (and I quote) "What the f*ck is that?".
Loudly.
Obviously a bollocking ensued from Mum, who keeps forgetting that he’s all grown up now.
The present, incidentally was a pair of radio controlled battling tanks. Very cool.
Of the many cool presents I received for Christmas, mention should be made of my new Kodak Digital Camera: http://www.kodak.com/eknec/PageQuerier.jhtml?pq-locale=en_US&pq-path=4633. Exellent present from Mum and Dad there, which perfectly juxtaposed the cardboard build-your-own-st-paul’s-cathedral kit that they also gave me!
Our original plan for Christmas was to hold it at our house again. Unfortunately this was impossible as we had very kindly allowed Vic’s Dad, who is currently ‘between houses’ having moved to Yorkshire, to store his furniture in our spare room. So with teeth gritted, we agreed to go to Mum’s for Christmas. Chris, my younger brother, was not going to be there as he was unable to get time off work (he’s a nurse), which was a shame, because he’s usually the only saving grace about going to Mum’s. On the plus side, Vic’s mum was invited over for the day, which meant that we didn’t have to rush off to engage in the obligatory visitations straight after lunch.
Having finished work at lunchtime (absolute bonus, that. Didn’t even have to take the half day as holiday) I winged my way home with the Stead. Vic, the dirty stopout, sloped off to the pub for the afternoon.
So we finally left to go ‘down south’ at about 7, arriving at 9.30ish. Darnit. That means we missed Midnight Mass at 8pm. Shame.
Anyway, after a morning or utter, utter boredom (Where’s the Bored Board when you need it?), and Russ’ normal Christmas bad mood, we sat down to dinner, which was very tasty. Christmas dinners are great. Especially when the turkey’s been covered in bacon. Mmmmm… bacon…
Then we got to the present-opening part of the day. This is where Vic’s bum and the ruining of Christmas comes into play.
Having cunningly tricked the Vickster into performing Chris’ traditional role of distributing the presents from under the tree, Vic engaged in the activity with gusto. And a splendid job she did of it, too. Until she decided to crawl under the tree to get the last few gifts from the back.
Bad move, that.
The towering elevation of Vic’s derriere caused the tree to descend in a graceful arc onto the floor, scattering baubles in glorious devastation.
Christmas. Ruined. By Vic’s bum.
Of course, I exaggerate. Christmas was not ruined at all. It was pretty comical, though. Heh.
Even better, was that despite being 250 miles away and working a 12 hour Christmas day shift, Chris still managed to make my day by telephoning at about 8pm, on his return from work. He decided to open his presents on the phone (bear in mind at this point, that both parents and Vic’s mum were present in the room and Chris, unbeknownst to him had been placed on speakerphone, so all could enjoy his delight at his presents).
Upon opening my present to him (and all the while thinking that I was the only one that could hear him), Chris enquired (and I quote) "What the f*ck is that?".
Loudly.
Obviously a bollocking ensued from Mum, who keeps forgetting that he’s all grown up now.
The present, incidentally was a pair of radio controlled battling tanks. Very cool.
Of the many cool presents I received for Christmas, mention should be made of my new Kodak Digital Camera: http://www.kodak.com/eknec/PageQuerier.jhtml?pq-locale=en_US&pq-path=4633. Exellent present from Mum and Dad there, which perfectly juxtaposed the cardboard build-your-own-st-paul’s-cathedral kit that they also gave me!
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Children In The Office
Some dozy bint has just decided that it's a good idea to bring her
child into the office. All I've heard for the last hour are things
like "Do you want to show Kim your Blankie" and strange gurgling
noises accompanied by high pitched squeaking from the little creature
itself.
Here's an analogy for you:
Going for a poo is a natural bodily function (do you see where I'm
going with this yet?).
Vomiting is a natural bodily function.
Sneezing is a natural bodily function.
Would you then take the product of these natural bodily functions and
show them round the office? I think not.
So why do parents feel the need to take the product of their natualy
bodily functions (i.e. childbirth)and show them round the office, eh?
Our reaction to children in the office should be the same as that to a
turd or pool of sick in the office - i.e. "Ewwwww. Gross."
I may post this on the Bored Board and see if anyone else has the same opinion.
child into the office. All I've heard for the last hour are things
like "Do you want to show Kim your Blankie" and strange gurgling
noises accompanied by high pitched squeaking from the little creature
itself.
Here's an analogy for you:
Going for a poo is a natural bodily function (do you see where I'm
going with this yet?).
Vomiting is a natural bodily function.
Sneezing is a natural bodily function.
Would you then take the product of these natural bodily functions and
show them round the office? I think not.
So why do parents feel the need to take the product of their natualy
bodily functions (i.e. childbirth)and show them round the office, eh?
Our reaction to children in the office should be the same as that to a
turd or pool of sick in the office - i.e. "Ewwwww. Gross."
I may post this on the Bored Board and see if anyone else has the same opinion.
Children In The Office
Some dozy bint has just decided that it's a good idea to bring her child into the office. All I've heard for the last hour are things like "Do you want to show Kim your Blankie" and strange gurgling noises accompanied by high pitched squeaking from the little creature itself.
Here's an analogy for you:
Going for a poo is a natural bodily function (do you see where I'mgoing with this yet?).
Vomiting is a natural bodily function.
Sneezing is a natural bodily function.
Would you then take the product of these natural bodily functions and show them round the office?
I think not.
So why do parents feel the need to take the product of their natural bodily functions (i.e. childbirth) and show them round the office, eh?
Our reaction to children in the office should be the same as that to a turd or pool of sick in the office - i.e. "Ewwwww. Gross."
Here's an analogy for you:
Going for a poo is a natural bodily function (do you see where I'mgoing with this yet?).
Vomiting is a natural bodily function.
Sneezing is a natural bodily function.
Would you then take the product of these natural bodily functions and show them round the office?
I think not.
So why do parents feel the need to take the product of their natural bodily functions (i.e. childbirth) and show them round the office, eh?
Our reaction to children in the office should be the same as that to a turd or pool of sick in the office - i.e. "Ewwwww. Gross."
Monday, December 20, 2004
Keep It In The Family
We were supposed to be going down to Mum's on Saturday to see my younger brother. He's a nurse and desn't have time off over Christmas this year, so he's popping down to see Mum just beforehand. And we thought we'd catch him there, give him his pressies and so-on.
Unfortunately, after her Works Do on Friday night, Vic was somewhat poorly on Saturday morning. She'd actually be up all night, feeling quite ill and had retired to the sofa with a bucket (which, fortunately she didn't need to use). She swears it was the turkey or a stomach bug as she didn't have much to drink. Whilst I believe her on this score, it does leave her wide open for all sorts of jokes... an opportunity that I just can't pass up!
While the Vickster recuperated in bed I completed a couple of excrutiatingly difficult (well for me, anyway) missions on GTA (punctuated with lost of swearing and angry controller tossing - it helps, honestly!), then me'n Stead drove up to Yate (pronounced Yah-tay, for the uninitiated) for an inpromptu Full Monty All Day Breakfast in the greasy, greasy caff. Oh yeah.
So, anyway - we went down to Mum's on Sunday instead. Russ turned up, too, so the whole Morrissey gang were present and correct (well present, anyway). An amusing time was had by all - except, it seems, Mum, who objected to us mucking around at dinner and talking about things she knows nothing about. Little britain, Star Wars, Computers and so on. Just about anything that could be considered remotely interesting.
After dinner at the local Brewers Fayre (which was about as inspiring as you could expect), we went back to Mums, where she turned the central heating and the real flame gas fire up to maximum and went to sleep in front of some inane property programme. Whilst she did that, we looked up the Star Wars Gangsta Rap which took about half an hour to load on Dad's nasty slow dialup connection. It was worth it, though.
Anyways. We also saw Vic's Dad, who we've not seen since he moved to Yorkshire about 3 months ago (and stole 'my' laptop). Which was nice.
Finished the day with a quick visit to Vic's Mum.
That's it. Not a very exciting weekend in the grand scheme of things, but it keeps me off the street.
Unfortunately, after her Works Do on Friday night, Vic was somewhat poorly on Saturday morning. She'd actually be up all night, feeling quite ill and had retired to the sofa with a bucket (which, fortunately she didn't need to use). She swears it was the turkey or a stomach bug as she didn't have much to drink. Whilst I believe her on this score, it does leave her wide open for all sorts of jokes... an opportunity that I just can't pass up!
While the Vickster recuperated in bed I completed a couple of excrutiatingly difficult (well for me, anyway) missions on GTA (punctuated with lost of swearing and angry controller tossing - it helps, honestly!), then me'n Stead drove up to Yate (pronounced Yah-tay, for the uninitiated) for an inpromptu Full Monty All Day Breakfast in the greasy, greasy caff. Oh yeah.
So, anyway - we went down to Mum's on Sunday instead. Russ turned up, too, so the whole Morrissey gang were present and correct (well present, anyway). An amusing time was had by all - except, it seems, Mum, who objected to us mucking around at dinner and talking about things she knows nothing about. Little britain, Star Wars, Computers and so on. Just about anything that could be considered remotely interesting.
After dinner at the local Brewers Fayre (which was about as inspiring as you could expect), we went back to Mums, where she turned the central heating and the real flame gas fire up to maximum and went to sleep in front of some inane property programme. Whilst she did that, we looked up the Star Wars Gangsta Rap which took about half an hour to load on Dad's nasty slow dialup connection. It was worth it, though.
Anyways. We also saw Vic's Dad, who we've not seen since he moved to Yorkshire about 3 months ago (and stole 'my' laptop). Which was nice.
Finished the day with a quick visit to Vic's Mum.
That's it. Not a very exciting weekend in the grand scheme of things, but it keeps me off the street.
Friday, December 17, 2004
Tree
Vicster put up the Christmas tree the other night. I've been trying to post it here so that you can see it in all it's glory, but I can't get the damn thing to work.
The Festive Season
Cunning, my plan is. Exceedingly so.
I have decided that I am prepared to accept the current trend of celebrating of Christmas for up to six weeks before the main event itself. During this period, I will engage, without complaint or humbugocity, in the general christmas merriment, the partying, the buying of secret santa gifts, the overabundant issuing of pointless colourful bits of card and the labelling of anyone who does not start celebrating the festive season six weeks beforehand as a 'miserable b*stard'.
Yes. I will do this thing.
On one condition.
The same celebratory period should be assigned to my birthday. Therefore, I declare that the entire month of February and the first half of March should be designated as 'Darren's Birthday Season'. As is traditional on one's birthday, everyone must be extra nice to me during this period. Gifts should be given. Songs of celebration should be sung. A minimum of 3 parties a week should be held in my honour. Everybody should annonymously purchase me a gift, Secret Santa style. Festive decorations should be put up in my honour. Calendars with chocolate in should be issued to everybody. Anyone who does not engage in merriment and Darren worshipping during this tradtional festive season should be branded a 'miserable b*stard' and be castigated as often as possible.
Thank you.
You may continue about your business.
I have decided that I am prepared to accept the current trend of celebrating of Christmas for up to six weeks before the main event itself. During this period, I will engage, without complaint or humbugocity, in the general christmas merriment, the partying, the buying of secret santa gifts, the overabundant issuing of pointless colourful bits of card and the labelling of anyone who does not start celebrating the festive season six weeks beforehand as a 'miserable b*stard'.
Yes. I will do this thing.
On one condition.
The same celebratory period should be assigned to my birthday. Therefore, I declare that the entire month of February and the first half of March should be designated as 'Darren's Birthday Season'. As is traditional on one's birthday, everyone must be extra nice to me during this period. Gifts should be given. Songs of celebration should be sung. A minimum of 3 parties a week should be held in my honour. Everybody should annonymously purchase me a gift, Secret Santa style. Festive decorations should be put up in my honour. Calendars with chocolate in should be issued to everybody. Anyone who does not engage in merriment and Darren worshipping during this tradtional festive season should be branded a 'miserable b*stard' and be castigated as often as possible.
Thank you.
You may continue about your business.
Sunday, December 12, 2004
Awesome Recording Studio...
Stead has been recording the Official Jammie Dodger Bored Board Song over the last week or so. It's sounding pretty good. Anyway, he asked Vic and I to pop round to lend our talents to the proceedings. Vic provided a bit of violin and some backing vocals. For some reason, Stead thought that I might be able to shake his egg rattle thingie in time to the music. I couldn't. Ho hum. He did record a nice wookie noise from me though.
Shot over to Broderses for dinner last night, which was cool - probably haven't seen 'em for about 3 or 4 months. A good time was had by all.
Shot over to Broderses for dinner last night, which was cool - probably haven't seen 'em for about 3 or 4 months. A good time was had by all.
Friday, December 10, 2004
Christmas Do #1
Ahh. Last night I had the pleasure of attending my first Christmas Do of the year. And it wasn't bad! I hired a tux for the evening (probably the first time I've EVER worn one) and managed to persuade a good proportion of the other guys in the office to do the same. And I have pictures (albeit pretty awful ones - look, I don't get my new digital camera until AFTER Christmas, ok!):
Obviously, being the immature little tyke that I am, it was neccessary to force Vic to take pictures of me in a James Bond pose:
Damn, I look good!
For dinnder, I was wedged between one of the Senior Managers and my Head Of, both of whom were resonably entertaining. For some reason, everybody else were desperate to avoid sitting with anyone remotely resembling a boss, but my attitude is that these are the guys I need to get on with if I want a pay-rise or promotion. So where's the problem?
At one point, my bosses boss and the Head Of tried to physically drag me from my chair to the dance floor. I used a secret technique to dissuade them - one that I'm unable to reveal here. Oh... alright then. I said no. To my Head Of. Unheard of, I know, but there we have it!
Unfortunately I had to leave at 11 because I had to attand the half-yearly conference in the morning and needed to be resonably coherent.
With regards to the conference... it's amazinbg how many people sit in silence during break-out groups... just in case they're called upon to do any actual thinking. I did plenty and kinda had fun in a conferene break-out group sorta way. Made many good suggestions and, hopefully, some of 'em will get implemented.
Anyways - I had to leave that early as well, as I had to go to a post-funeral service at the church for one of Vic's friends. It was treated as a celebration of her life and went very well. Excellent. And I got fed. Cool.
Obviously, being the immature little tyke that I am, it was neccessary to force Vic to take pictures of me in a James Bond pose:
Damn, I look good!
For dinnder, I was wedged between one of the Senior Managers and my Head Of, both of whom were resonably entertaining. For some reason, everybody else were desperate to avoid sitting with anyone remotely resembling a boss, but my attitude is that these are the guys I need to get on with if I want a pay-rise or promotion. So where's the problem?
At one point, my bosses boss and the Head Of tried to physically drag me from my chair to the dance floor. I used a secret technique to dissuade them - one that I'm unable to reveal here. Oh... alright then. I said no. To my Head Of. Unheard of, I know, but there we have it!
Unfortunately I had to leave at 11 because I had to attand the half-yearly conference in the morning and needed to be resonably coherent.
With regards to the conference... it's amazinbg how many people sit in silence during break-out groups... just in case they're called upon to do any actual thinking. I did plenty and kinda had fun in a conferene break-out group sorta way. Made many good suggestions and, hopefully, some of 'em will get implemented.
Anyways - I had to leave that early as well, as I had to go to a post-funeral service at the church for one of Vic's friends. It was treated as a celebration of her life and went very well. Excellent. And I got fed. Cool.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Fatness
I'm currently watching the BBC News. Apparently, the less sleep you get, the more 'deranged' your hormones get and the fatter you are.
So now I have an excuse.
So now I have an excuse.
Monday, December 06, 2004
Dime
When I checked my change, having purchased a very tasty corned beef and salad sandwich (with a touch of salt and black pepper) from the canteen, I noticed that I had been given a dime rather than a 5 pence piece.
Todays exchange rate is $1.8429 to the Pound. That means that my dime is actually worth 13.6p. Which makes me 8.6p up on the deal.
Cool.
Todays exchange rate is $1.8429 to the Pound. That means that my dime is actually worth 13.6p. Which makes me 8.6p up on the deal.
Cool.
Sunday, December 05, 2004
Vic's Concert
Vic had another concert tonight. This time it was Tchaikovski's Sleeping Beauty Suite and Symphony Number 5. Aslo featured was a Dubussy clarinet concerto.
The two Tcaikovsky pieces were great. Vic, as usual, was the best one in her row.
The Debussy, however was... well... er... crap. The clarinetist (is that a real word?) kept giving the conductor significant looks (not surpising as they were a couple).
The two Tcaikovsky pieces were great. Vic, as usual, was the best one in her row.
The Debussy, however was... well... er... crap. The clarinetist (is that a real word?) kept giving the conductor significant looks (not surpising as they were a couple).
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
The Incredibles
Well Vic announced that she was going to see The Incredibles with some of her work buddies yesterday evening. Although she said it quite matter-of-factly with no apparent malice in the statement, I could tell that secretly, underneath that cool facade she was actully brimming with glee at the fact that she might get to see a cool movie before me.
So, bursting with jealousy I began to plot and scheme - I needed to find some way to foil her diabolical plan. In the end it was quite simple. Get some Henchmen (in this case Stead and Woolie) and head out to the cinema to see it ourselves. That way she wouldn't be one up on me.
Actually it seemed to be going well. It happened that we were going to see exactly the same time showing at the very same venue as the Vicster. Cunning as I am, I made no mention of this to Vic, intending to surprise her at the cinema. Little did I know just how phenomenally sucessful my plan would be.
Upon arriving at the cinema, we sneaked in quietly hoping to arrive unnoticed. We failed - Vic and her cronies were hanging out in the entrance and spotted us straight away. Gunfire was exchanged (actually I just made that bit up) and then Vic dropped the bombshell. Her mates had decided that they couldn't possibly wait an hour to see The Incredibles and decided to see The Forgotten instead. Awwww. What a shame.
So I got to see The Incredibles and Vicky didn't.
He he he he he.
The reason I'm so gleeful is that The Incredibles was the funniest and coolest movie I've seen all year. There was just nothing wrong with it. The story was corny and cool. The heroes were corny and cool. The jokes were corny and cool and the whole thing was just... cool! Cool I tell you.
Did I mention that Vic went to see The Forgotten instead. Apparently it was Ok.
He he he he he.
So, bursting with jealousy I began to plot and scheme - I needed to find some way to foil her diabolical plan. In the end it was quite simple. Get some Henchmen (in this case Stead and Woolie) and head out to the cinema to see it ourselves. That way she wouldn't be one up on me.
Actually it seemed to be going well. It happened that we were going to see exactly the same time showing at the very same venue as the Vicster. Cunning as I am, I made no mention of this to Vic, intending to surprise her at the cinema. Little did I know just how phenomenally sucessful my plan would be.
Upon arriving at the cinema, we sneaked in quietly hoping to arrive unnoticed. We failed - Vic and her cronies were hanging out in the entrance and spotted us straight away. Gunfire was exchanged (actually I just made that bit up) and then Vic dropped the bombshell. Her mates had decided that they couldn't possibly wait an hour to see The Incredibles and decided to see The Forgotten instead. Awwww. What a shame.
So I got to see The Incredibles and Vicky didn't.
He he he he he.
The reason I'm so gleeful is that The Incredibles was the funniest and coolest movie I've seen all year. There was just nothing wrong with it. The story was corny and cool. The heroes were corny and cool. The jokes were corny and cool and the whole thing was just... cool! Cool I tell you.
Did I mention that Vic went to see The Forgotten instead. Apparently it was Ok.
He he he he he.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
After The Sunset
Just went to see ths with Stead and Woolie. It's a crime caper type flick with Pierce Brosnan, Selma Hayek and Woody Harrelson. It was ok. Passed a couple of hours. Couldn't decide whether to be a comedy or not. Brosnan played er... Brosnan. Selma still can't act, but she's always a pleasure to watch (hur hur hur). Some clumsy twists at the end kinda spoiled it.
Never mind. Saw juicy trailers for Star Wars and Batman. Cooooool.
Never mind. Saw juicy trailers for Star Wars and Batman. Cooooool.
Friday, November 19, 2004
Episode 37: In which Vic gets into a scrape and I bemoan the lack of signposts in Cheltenham
We took a day off to go shopping in Cheltenham today. I was told by those in the know (i.e. Vicky) that we needed to go to Cheltenham because it had good shopping. I couldn't contain my excitement. In fact I found the sheer, giddy anticipation I felt for the trip caused my speech patterns to descend into sarcasm...
Moving on...
What started as an uneventful journey to Cheltenham rapidly descended into a farce once we entered the outskirts of the city. There were almost no signposts at all pointing us towards the town centre, so we found ourselves taking guesses at the various junctions and roundabouts. Fortunately, it seemed that the Toyota in front of us knew where we were going because we managed to follow it most of the way into town.
Our next problem came when Vic turned down the narrowest road in the world, thinking that it would lead to the huge car park just of the main road. It didn't, so Vic found herself doing a 300 point turn at the end of the road. Unfortunately there was a poorly placed iron railing on one side, with which the side of the car became very intimate. We now have a lovely scrape down the nearside rear door and wheel arch. I'm looking forward to the bill for that one. To her credit, Vic got the car out of a space designed for a hamster. A very small hamster.
Continuing into Cheltenham, we encoutered no signs at all, relying instead on following the majority of the traffic which, we assumed would be heading for the centre of town. Fortunately we were right and we did, indeed end up in the centre. The route, however gave us the ditinct impression that we were going in circles, spiralling in to an inevitable rendezvous with one of the most poorly designed multi storey car parks I have ever encountered. More on that later.
Cheltenham itself was ok. In the same way that every city centre is ok. There was an M&S, a WH Smith, an HMV... you get the idea. Pleasant enough, but nothing to make it stand out from city centres around the country. Not much in the way of all-day-breakfasts either, which considering I'd had no breakfast that morning was something of a disappointment.
One cheese and beans jacket potato and a ton of shopping bags later, we met up with Kris (I know, it's amazing. A friend who hasn't had his name bastardised by the Morrissey Naming Convention) who had been training for his new job in the Cheltenham branch of the jewellery shop he's just started work at. It was actually his second day on the job, and his first job in about 2 years, having been somewhat poorly for quite some time. We popped back to his hotel so he could get changed and met the proprietor who had an amazing french accent that sounded like it had fallen straight out of Allo Allo. I was expecting to see a framed Fallen Madonna With Ze Big Boobies on the wall in the lounge. Kris was pretty happy and enthusiastic about his new job - which makes a nice change as he's been pretty low recently.
We went for a meal in Bella Italia, which was pretty good and I managed to persuade one of the waiters to make a balloon giraffe for Vic before we left. Nice big tip there!
And then we headed back to the car park. I mentioned before that this wasn't a great car park. Well this next little incident tipped the scale from 'not a great' car park to a 'bloody stupid f*cking piece of cr*p' car park.
It had one of those payment systems by which you collect a card on entry and pay on yopur return. We had resigned ouselves to the fact that it was going to cost us £14 already (yes, I know. £14 to park a car. Now I know how sheep feel in the summer). What we did not account for (and could not have planned for) was that the machine was designed with a time limit in mind - a limit on the amount of time you had to insert the neccessary coinage. We had a handful of change and inserted the coins, as you do. Just as we inserted the penultimate coin, the machine spat out all of the previously inserted coins telling us that were were taking too long about about it.
So we tried again, this time inserting the coins as fast as we possibly could. Again, the machine petulantly spat the coins out at us. Bastard. If the town council are gonna charge us 14 quid to park in their poxy car park, they have to expect that it's gonna take a bit of time to put the damn coins in.
Before we tried a third time, we seached our pockets and dredged the fathomless depths of Vic's handbag for any higher value coinage we could use to decrease the overall insertion time. Third time lucky, although I'm sure I heard the machine chuckling evilly to itself as we made our way back to the car.
Again, on the way out of Cheltenham, there was a distinct absence of signage - one motorway sign at the end of the road with the car park set us off in a direction... then we found ourselves on the Oxford A40 road, which could have lead to disaster if not for my eagle eyes spotting the tiniest, tiniest little M5 sign.
Anyway. I'm home now. It's warm and my belly is full. Vic's gone up to bed, and I suspect I'm supposed to be on my way there now, so I'd better wrap this up.
Ciao for now!
Moving on...
What started as an uneventful journey to Cheltenham rapidly descended into a farce once we entered the outskirts of the city. There were almost no signposts at all pointing us towards the town centre, so we found ourselves taking guesses at the various junctions and roundabouts. Fortunately, it seemed that the Toyota in front of us knew where we were going because we managed to follow it most of the way into town.
Our next problem came when Vic turned down the narrowest road in the world, thinking that it would lead to the huge car park just of the main road. It didn't, so Vic found herself doing a 300 point turn at the end of the road. Unfortunately there was a poorly placed iron railing on one side, with which the side of the car became very intimate. We now have a lovely scrape down the nearside rear door and wheel arch. I'm looking forward to the bill for that one. To her credit, Vic got the car out of a space designed for a hamster. A very small hamster.
Continuing into Cheltenham, we encoutered no signs at all, relying instead on following the majority of the traffic which, we assumed would be heading for the centre of town. Fortunately we were right and we did, indeed end up in the centre. The route, however gave us the ditinct impression that we were going in circles, spiralling in to an inevitable rendezvous with one of the most poorly designed multi storey car parks I have ever encountered. More on that later.
Cheltenham itself was ok. In the same way that every city centre is ok. There was an M&S, a WH Smith, an HMV... you get the idea. Pleasant enough, but nothing to make it stand out from city centres around the country. Not much in the way of all-day-breakfasts either, which considering I'd had no breakfast that morning was something of a disappointment.
One cheese and beans jacket potato and a ton of shopping bags later, we met up with Kris (I know, it's amazing. A friend who hasn't had his name bastardised by the Morrissey Naming Convention) who had been training for his new job in the Cheltenham branch of the jewellery shop he's just started work at. It was actually his second day on the job, and his first job in about 2 years, having been somewhat poorly for quite some time. We popped back to his hotel so he could get changed and met the proprietor who had an amazing french accent that sounded like it had fallen straight out of Allo Allo. I was expecting to see a framed Fallen Madonna With Ze Big Boobies on the wall in the lounge. Kris was pretty happy and enthusiastic about his new job - which makes a nice change as he's been pretty low recently.
We went for a meal in Bella Italia, which was pretty good and I managed to persuade one of the waiters to make a balloon giraffe for Vic before we left. Nice big tip there!
And then we headed back to the car park. I mentioned before that this wasn't a great car park. Well this next little incident tipped the scale from 'not a great' car park to a 'bloody stupid f*cking piece of cr*p' car park.
It had one of those payment systems by which you collect a card on entry and pay on yopur return. We had resigned ouselves to the fact that it was going to cost us £14 already (yes, I know. £14 to park a car. Now I know how sheep feel in the summer). What we did not account for (and could not have planned for) was that the machine was designed with a time limit in mind - a limit on the amount of time you had to insert the neccessary coinage. We had a handful of change and inserted the coins, as you do. Just as we inserted the penultimate coin, the machine spat out all of the previously inserted coins telling us that were were taking too long about about it.
So we tried again, this time inserting the coins as fast as we possibly could. Again, the machine petulantly spat the coins out at us. Bastard. If the town council are gonna charge us 14 quid to park in their poxy car park, they have to expect that it's gonna take a bit of time to put the damn coins in.
Before we tried a third time, we seached our pockets and dredged the fathomless depths of Vic's handbag for any higher value coinage we could use to decrease the overall insertion time. Third time lucky, although I'm sure I heard the machine chuckling evilly to itself as we made our way back to the car.
Again, on the way out of Cheltenham, there was a distinct absence of signage - one motorway sign at the end of the road with the car park set us off in a direction... then we found ourselves on the Oxford A40 road, which could have lead to disaster if not for my eagle eyes spotting the tiniest, tiniest little M5 sign.
Anyway. I'm home now. It's warm and my belly is full. Vic's gone up to bed, and I suspect I'm supposed to be on my way there now, so I'd better wrap this up.
Ciao for now!
Sunday, November 14, 2004
GTA: SA
This afternoon, I stole a jet and flew it to San Fierro, where I got shot down by a military jet.
The Visitation.
You will be pleased to hear that I survived the visit from Mum and Dad.
Just. I came very close to a sticky, sticky end once or twice.
They turned up at lunchtime as promised. We went out to lunch, which was fine. Then Vic (and I almost murdered her on the spot for this) suggested that we all go to the Mall at Cribbs Causeway for a bit of shopping.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
The Mall on a Saturday afternoon. One of my worst nightmares, second only to the one where I'm being eaten alive by oompah loompahs. It was busy. Very busy. No, I should clairfy that. I wouldn't want you to miss out on the full horror of the experience. It was really f*cking busy.
Still, Dad didn't want to be there either. So we followed the girls around, mmmm-ing and aahhhh-ing at the appropriate moments. We were there for four hellish hours before it was decided that we should go home.
After a cuppa at home, Mum announced that she needed to watch something on the telly. It was then that I discovered that there was, indeed something worse than Most Haunted Live. Yes, I was subjected to Strictly Come Dancing. An hour of watching celebrities dance badly, being egged on by Bruce Bloody Forsythe. And as if that wasn't bad enough, at the end he decided to perform a duet with non other than Donny Osmond.
It was around this time that I seriously contempleted suicide. The oompah loompas were actually looking quite attractive.
To be fair, though, Mum played nicely. the subject of Christmas never came up. She didn't use the word 'Misery' once and (the Mall and Strictly Come Dancing notwithstanding) we had quite a nice day.
Just. I came very close to a sticky, sticky end once or twice.
They turned up at lunchtime as promised. We went out to lunch, which was fine. Then Vic (and I almost murdered her on the spot for this) suggested that we all go to the Mall at Cribbs Causeway for a bit of shopping.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
The Mall on a Saturday afternoon. One of my worst nightmares, second only to the one where I'm being eaten alive by oompah loompahs. It was busy. Very busy. No, I should clairfy that. I wouldn't want you to miss out on the full horror of the experience. It was really f*cking busy.
Still, Dad didn't want to be there either. So we followed the girls around, mmmm-ing and aahhhh-ing at the appropriate moments. We were there for four hellish hours before it was decided that we should go home.
After a cuppa at home, Mum announced that she needed to watch something on the telly. It was then that I discovered that there was, indeed something worse than Most Haunted Live. Yes, I was subjected to Strictly Come Dancing. An hour of watching celebrities dance badly, being egged on by Bruce Bloody Forsythe. And as if that wasn't bad enough, at the end he decided to perform a duet with non other than Donny Osmond.
It was around this time that I seriously contempleted suicide. The oompah loompas were actually looking quite attractive.
To be fair, though, Mum played nicely. the subject of Christmas never came up. She didn't use the word 'Misery' once and (the Mall and Strictly Come Dancing notwithstanding) we had quite a nice day.
Thursday, November 11, 2004
I've Been Really Bad...
I haven't posted for a couple of weeks now. How can I expect you to get on with your hum-drum lives without getting your regular update from the Land of D?
Well. What have I been up to?
I've ordered my PC from the Banks HCI Scheme. This is the scheme by which an employee hires a pc from their employer and receives, not only a significant discount on the cost of the pc, but also a tax break from the government, 3 years on-site service and so on. Check out the government's site about it here. It's gonna be great.
I've ordered a jabra bluetooth headset for my P900 from Amazon. That too, will be cool.
As will the light gun I've ordered for the PS2 from Ebay. If it ever turns up. I won it on the 27th October and paid by paypal, but the guy selling it hasn't claimed the paypal payment and hasn't replied to any of my e-mails. I'm sure there's a good reason (there had better be) but I'm getting worried that my light-gun goodness may be curtailed.
All is not lost, however as I have got hold of Grand Theft Auto San Andreas for my PS2. Hours and hours of overly violent joy! And a cool multiplayer option.
Vic's phone is up for renewal this weekend. I've been trying to push an Orange SPV her way, but she's settled for an Ericsson K700i. Which is fine. looks like a good phone.
Now that I've finished telling you all about the materialistic aspects of my life, I can get down to real things:
Poor old Vic had to spend 2 days in London this week. Overnight stay in a hotel in Kensington. Fortunately despite the nasty crash up near Reading last weekend there were no significant delays there or back, although she found out afterwards that 2 of her colleagues were coming home on the train after hers and were delayed by 5 hours due to a signalling fault. Lucky escape there, I think.
I was a bit annoyed yesterday at around 11am. It was, as you may or may not know, Armistice Day (or Poppy Day) and the UK has a 2 minute silence at 11 o'clock. Now I was in a team meeting at 10am and mentioned this to my colleagues. Unfortunately when 11 o'clock came round, the boss was nattering away, almost everyone else in the office carried on as normal and one bloke was wandering around having a whistle.
Well we have to batten down the hatches this evening as Mum and Dad are coming over for the day. I'm not entirely sure whether we will survice, so this may be my last ever post...
Well. What have I been up to?
I've ordered my PC from the Banks HCI Scheme. This is the scheme by which an employee hires a pc from their employer and receives, not only a significant discount on the cost of the pc, but also a tax break from the government, 3 years on-site service and so on. Check out the government's site about it here. It's gonna be great.
I've ordered a jabra bluetooth headset for my P900 from Amazon. That too, will be cool.
As will the light gun I've ordered for the PS2 from Ebay. If it ever turns up. I won it on the 27th October and paid by paypal, but the guy selling it hasn't claimed the paypal payment and hasn't replied to any of my e-mails. I'm sure there's a good reason (there had better be) but I'm getting worried that my light-gun goodness may be curtailed.
All is not lost, however as I have got hold of Grand Theft Auto San Andreas for my PS2. Hours and hours of overly violent joy! And a cool multiplayer option.
Vic's phone is up for renewal this weekend. I've been trying to push an Orange SPV her way, but she's settled for an Ericsson K700i. Which is fine. looks like a good phone.
Now that I've finished telling you all about the materialistic aspects of my life, I can get down to real things:
Poor old Vic had to spend 2 days in London this week. Overnight stay in a hotel in Kensington. Fortunately despite the nasty crash up near Reading last weekend there were no significant delays there or back, although she found out afterwards that 2 of her colleagues were coming home on the train after hers and were delayed by 5 hours due to a signalling fault. Lucky escape there, I think.
I was a bit annoyed yesterday at around 11am. It was, as you may or may not know, Armistice Day (or Poppy Day) and the UK has a 2 minute silence at 11 o'clock. Now I was in a team meeting at 10am and mentioned this to my colleagues. Unfortunately when 11 o'clock came round, the boss was nattering away, almost everyone else in the office carried on as normal and one bloke was wandering around having a whistle.
Well we have to batten down the hatches this evening as Mum and Dad are coming over for the day. I'm not entirely sure whether we will survice, so this may be my last ever post...
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Most Haunted Live
I've just watched the most appalling load of cobblers I've ever seen (actually, that's not true, I've seen a couple of episodes of Big Brother and it was worse).
Stead has been going on for ages about this Most Haunted (www.livingtv.co.uk/mosthaunted) programme on Living TV. Apparently it's great. Anyway, they did a special live broadcast for Halloween - investigating Pendle Hill in Yorkshire, supposedly the most haunted location in the UK.
Well on the first night, the medium Derek Acora (if that's how you spell it) 'saw' some aliens. the second night, the spirits of about 9 witches, all called Elizabeth tried to kill the crew by... er... moving glasses at them. i didn't watch the third night, but apparently there were Hellhounds.
Of course none of this could be seen on screen, you just saw this scouse ponce saying things like 'Elizabeth wants to kill us' and 'I think they followed us from the last location' and 'Argh. She's got me by the neck!'
It was rubbish. Stead, if you're reading this, don't watch it any more. It'll rot your brains. Watch 'Tricia' or 'Changing Rooms' instead. It'll be far more intellectually stimulating.
Oh yeah... if you're interested, the Most Haunted DVD can be purchased at good ol' Amazon! I wouldn't bother though if I were you.
Stead has been going on for ages about this Most Haunted (www.livingtv.co.uk/mosthaunted) programme on Living TV. Apparently it's great. Anyway, they did a special live broadcast for Halloween - investigating Pendle Hill in Yorkshire, supposedly the most haunted location in the UK.
Well on the first night, the medium Derek Acora (if that's how you spell it) 'saw' some aliens. the second night, the spirits of about 9 witches, all called Elizabeth tried to kill the crew by... er... moving glasses at them. i didn't watch the third night, but apparently there were Hellhounds.
Of course none of this could be seen on screen, you just saw this scouse ponce saying things like 'Elizabeth wants to kill us' and 'I think they followed us from the last location' and 'Argh. She's got me by the neck!'
It was rubbish. Stead, if you're reading this, don't watch it any more. It'll rot your brains. Watch 'Tricia' or 'Changing Rooms' instead. It'll be far more intellectually stimulating.
Oh yeah... if you're interested, the Most Haunted DVD can be purchased at good ol' Amazon! I wouldn't bother though if I were you.
Friday, October 29, 2004
The first week back...
My first week back at work, post-holiday. It was, er... great. Since I'd left myself with a pretty clear desk, I came back to almost no work at all. And since my boss was on holiday he didn't give me any work. Similarly, his boss - who loves to cut out the middle man and dump on me directly is also on holiday until next Wednesday. So no high level dumpage, either.
Cool.
Kinda dull, though.
Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas comes out today. I've ordered it from Amazon, so it should be waiting for me at home.
Cool.
No caveats this time.
Cool.
Kinda dull, though.
Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas comes out today. I've ordered it from Amazon, so it should be waiting for me at home.
Cool.
No caveats this time.
Monday, October 25, 2004
Time 2
The disks arrived this morning. That was amazingly quick considering they came by second class post. No, wait! What's this on the packing slip... 'Next Day Delivery'? It would seem that complaining does work after all. It is a shame, however that whenever you enter into a contract these days, you have to complain in order to receive a decent level of service.
Anyway - The disks don't work. A further phone call to the software support line reveals that the problem was, in fact the hard disk, which is knackered. The laptop has to go back to be repaired.
Hooray.
Anyway - The disks don't work. A further phone call to the software support line reveals that the problem was, in fact the hard disk, which is knackered. The laptop has to go back to be repaired.
Hooray.
Fanboy
What was mildly amusing last night was that when we went round to the Woolie's for dinner, Pedro, who'd already seen Alien Versus Predator told us, knowledgeably, that the Alien's gestation period was all wrong.
He he he he...
Even more amusing was the fact that Hangelegert Rinkerdink posted the following on the JDBB. I've highlighted the important bit:
He he he he...
Even more amusing was the fact that Hangelegert Rinkerdink posted the following on the JDBB. I've highlighted the important bit:
OK ... the fanboy replies because it was wank. Depending on how you took it. As a no brain action adventure with cool special effects then it does exactly what it says on the tin. Thumbs up.
As a part of the Alien and Predator franchises (which is the viewpoint I'm coming from) it was arse cake. Completely ignored most of the history from the films, and even contradicted itself in parts. The Alien gestation period, we know from the first 4 films, takes days ... not minutes as this film implies ... mind you, it goes from minutes to hours in this so who knows. This film portrayed the Aliens as fully confronting fighting beasts ... which (again, if the first 4 films had been seen) Anderson would have known they aren't ... they are sneaky ... they are hunters and, if they need to go in hell for leather it would be en masse. And the fight with the Queen was stupid ... and she was FAR too big and GREW depending on the location ... crap. The Predators ... now, I know they were supposed to be going through a right of passage but, come on ... bloody ridiculous. They also look less like fearsome Predators and more like stoned Jamacans stereotypes ... gahI want to see Paul Andersons original, 45 minute longer, uncut version in the hope that he redeems himself.In short ... great actioner ... should have been 2 unknown creatues. As part of the
franchises it's even more ridicullous that the pink alien at the end of Resurrection.
Bo
Friday, October 22, 2004
Chris is Coming
Had a call from my favourite little brother this afternoon. He's got the weekend off and wanted to know if we were doing anything? I said no (which was a lie... well, more of a senior absent-minded moment) and said no. So he's coming to visit. Tomorrow.
What he doesn't know is that on Saturday night he'll be rocking with us down at the Portcullis in Chipping Sodbury - The Torr's next gig. As a Coldplay fan (I like 'em because they're mellow) he's not gonna like the music, but since when was an older brother not allowed to torture his younger siblings? (By the way - for 'mellow', read boring.)
Then he's going to have to suffer the Woolies, Pete and Becky, cos we're going to the Woolies for a roast dinner on Sunday. Still - I'm sure he won't mind. They're a good laugh.
What he doesn't know is that on Saturday night he'll be rocking with us down at the Portcullis in Chipping Sodbury - The Torr's next gig. As a Coldplay fan (I like 'em because they're mellow) he's not gonna like the music, but since when was an older brother not allowed to torture his younger siblings? (By the way - for 'mellow', read boring.)
Then he's going to have to suffer the Woolies, Pete and Becky, cos we're going to the Woolies for a roast dinner on Sunday. Still - I'm sure he won't mind. They're a good laugh.
Time
Ok. I think it is worth chronicling my experiences with Time Computers' Customer Services department. For posterity, see.
My laptop died a couple of weeks ago. It refused to start up, choosing instead to show me a lovely message about the system file being damaged or missing. Insert, it suggested, the Reload disk to sort it out. This I did, figuring that if the worst came to the worst, I could just use the reload disks to reinstall Windows.
Predictably, the Worst did, in fact come to the aforementioned Worst. And the Worst that the Worst came to was worse than the Worst that I had presupposed. Worse than Worst, it was the Ultimate Worst. Well, maybe not Ultimate, but pretty Worse. Worstly so. The second of the three reload disks was knackered.
So I phoned the Software support line (at £1 per minute) and spoke to a nice man about my problem. It's no problem at all, said he. I will simply send you a new set of disks which will right the wrongs and make the world a better place in which to live. 3 to 4 working days.
Splendid.
2 weeks later, the disks had not arrived.
So I phoned Time Customer Services this afternoon, to make enquiries. After 40 minutes on hold, the little boy who answered seemed confused when I said that it hadn't arrived. 'But my system says we dispatched it on the 12th' he said. He seemed to be having difficulty with the concept that post does not always reach it's intended destination. Having spent several minutes crossing this hurdle, we eventually agreed that I did not have the disks.
Next hurdle: 'I'll re-order it, sir' he said. 'It'll be 4-5 working days.'
'Not good enough' I said. 'I've been without my laptop for 2 weeks now. Having paid about £300 for a Gold Service Plan I think it would be reasonable for me to expact some sort of next day delivery service.'
'I'm afraid I can't do that sir,' he said (sounding eerily like HAL9000) 'Our procedure is to order it up, my manager has to authorise it, then it gets authorised again and then it gets sent out by 2nd class mail.'
2nd Class??? Do they know that the Post Office loses about 14 million items of post a year - most of which is second class? And that the only real guarantee that they make with 2nd class is that it may get there. Eventually.
'Is there nothing you can do to speed this process up? Get it sent registered, first class, anything'
'No'
'Is there anything your manager can do?'
'No'
'Can I speak to your manager?'
'No. He's at lunch.'
At lunch? At 3pm on a friday afternoon? Down the pub getting lagered up, more like: 'Can you get him to phone me when he get back from... lunch?'
'No. He doesn't speak to customers.'
Doesn't speak to customers? What sort of call-centre manager are we dealing with here? Time to remind him that I paid £300 for this crappy service: 'I paid £300 for a Gold Service Plan and this is the best you can do?'
'Yes.'
'Tell me,' I said, 'why I had to wait 40 minutes for someone to answer the phone? Is it because Time's customer service is so appalingly bad that thousands of people have to phone up to complain? Or is it just that Time are too tight to employ enough people on their call centre? Either way, Time would seem to be settling for a policy of inferior customer service.'
'I don't know.'
'I didn't think you would.'
My laptop died a couple of weeks ago. It refused to start up, choosing instead to show me a lovely message about the system file being damaged or missing. Insert, it suggested, the Reload disk to sort it out. This I did, figuring that if the worst came to the worst, I could just use the reload disks to reinstall Windows.
Predictably, the Worst did, in fact come to the aforementioned Worst. And the Worst that the Worst came to was worse than the Worst that I had presupposed. Worse than Worst, it was the Ultimate Worst. Well, maybe not Ultimate, but pretty Worse. Worstly so. The second of the three reload disks was knackered.
So I phoned the Software support line (at £1 per minute) and spoke to a nice man about my problem. It's no problem at all, said he. I will simply send you a new set of disks which will right the wrongs and make the world a better place in which to live. 3 to 4 working days.
Splendid.
2 weeks later, the disks had not arrived.
So I phoned Time Customer Services this afternoon, to make enquiries. After 40 minutes on hold, the little boy who answered seemed confused when I said that it hadn't arrived. 'But my system says we dispatched it on the 12th' he said. He seemed to be having difficulty with the concept that post does not always reach it's intended destination. Having spent several minutes crossing this hurdle, we eventually agreed that I did not have the disks.
Next hurdle: 'I'll re-order it, sir' he said. 'It'll be 4-5 working days.'
'Not good enough' I said. 'I've been without my laptop for 2 weeks now. Having paid about £300 for a Gold Service Plan I think it would be reasonable for me to expact some sort of next day delivery service.'
'I'm afraid I can't do that sir,' he said (sounding eerily like HAL9000) 'Our procedure is to order it up, my manager has to authorise it, then it gets authorised again and then it gets sent out by 2nd class mail.'
2nd Class??? Do they know that the Post Office loses about 14 million items of post a year - most of which is second class? And that the only real guarantee that they make with 2nd class is that it may get there. Eventually.
'Is there nothing you can do to speed this process up? Get it sent registered, first class, anything'
'No'
'Is there anything your manager can do?'
'No'
'Can I speak to your manager?'
'No. He's at lunch.'
At lunch? At 3pm on a friday afternoon? Down the pub getting lagered up, more like: 'Can you get him to phone me when he get back from... lunch?'
'No. He doesn't speak to customers.'
Doesn't speak to customers? What sort of call-centre manager are we dealing with here? Time to remind him that I paid £300 for this crappy service: 'I paid £300 for a Gold Service Plan and this is the best you can do?'
'Yes.'
'Tell me,' I said, 'why I had to wait 40 minutes for someone to answer the phone? Is it because Time's customer service is so appalingly bad that thousands of people have to phone up to complain? Or is it just that Time are too tight to employ enough people on their call centre? Either way, Time would seem to be settling for a policy of inferior customer service.'
'I don't know.'
'I didn't think you would.'
AVP
Stead and I went to see Alien Versus Predator this morning - not without some trepidation. It's had some poor reviews. Lots of fanboys on the internet saying things like 'the Alien's gestation period was all wrong' and 'the Predators ain't as hard as they should be' and 'the plot was crappy'. Also there's a lot of stuff flying around about the studio insisting that the film was cut to be a 15 at the last minute and the director having to cull plot building scenes because the studion only wanted a 135 minute movie.
Don't worry about it. It was a great movie. No-one expects greats plots from a monster movie. All we got was lots and lots of Aliens fighting people (well, killing them, anyway), Predators fighting people (well, killing them, anyway) and Aliens fighting Predators. It had a wholly predictable, but very cool, ending. What's not to like? Go see it!
Don't worry about it. It was a great movie. No-one expects greats plots from a monster movie. All we got was lots and lots of Aliens fighting people (well, killing them, anyway), Predators fighting people (well, killing them, anyway) and Aliens fighting Predators. It had a wholly predictable, but very cool, ending. What's not to like? Go see it!
Oblivion
So, yesterday Me Stead and the Vickster went up to Alton Towers for the day, since the weather forecast (from, I should point out, several different sources) promised bright and dry conditions and the chosen date did not fall in school holidays time - no children! A recipie for joyous times.
After some poor choices, routewise and about 4 hours in the car, we made it. The weather was not exactly as advertised, but it was mild drizzle, so we decided to live with it - more to the point, Vic had begged and scrounged to get the day off and we'd just driven for four hours to get there - we were determined to have a fantastic time. Fantastic, I tell you!
Now, I should tell you at this point that neither Vic nor I had been to a major theme park before (Paultons Park notwithstanding) so this was a first for us. I, myself was somewhat nervous, being a bit of a girlie wuss. Still the first ride was easy. Actually it was the monorail from the car-park to the main entrance.
After negotiating the suicidally miserable lady at the ticket booth and her identical twin in the resataurant at which we grabbed our all-day-breakfast we made our way to our first proper ride. The runaway minecart.
WOOOHOOOO!!!! It was great. As was the Haunted Mansion with the guns - I scored twice as much as Stead and Vic - thrashed them in fact. Then we went on the boat swingie thing. Cool.
Then we tried the Airsaw.
Which was horrific. I will never go on that again. It was horrible, nasty and downright mean. It also wasn't working properly, so after several false starts which involved us dangling upside down at a great height, we finally suffered the true horror and, finally, got off. The worst was yet to come, however.
After trying several great rides - Air was fantastic but short, the log flume was girlie (but got Stead soaked!) the Pinball Wossname and the Black Hole were terrifying (in a good way), Stead suggested Oblivion.
Oblivion.
A sheer 300ft frop at around 70 miles per hour. It's over in about half a second. But... it's a sheer 300 foot drop. At 70 mile per hour. Not a chance. Fortunately, Vic seemed to have the same opinion so I made a deal with Stead. If he could persuade Vic to go on it, I would. And guess what. Vic decided to give it a go. So here's me, scared sh*tless of any height over about 3ft about to go on Oblivion. Which, I would remind you, is a sheer 300ft drop at around 70 miles per hour. That's down. Really fast.
I tried many excuses. After all, who in their right mind would want to be dropped 300ft at 70 miles per hour? Not me. I tried to convince my comrades that I was only 1.1 meters tall - 10cm under the minimum height restriction, but that didn't was. It said 'No Smoking', so I told them that I'd just started. There was a sign that said I couldn't go on if I had a heart condition. I explain that if I went on Oblivion, I would have a heart condition. Stead just told me to stop being a Lady.
Anyway. I went on it. I didn't die. And I'm never going to do it again. There's a very comical photo of me screaming like a little girl and emptying the contents of my bladder into my pants, which I'll scan and put on here when I get to a working scanner - probably Monday.
The final thing to mention about the day was the weather. Rather than being bright and dry, it was cloudy and very, very wet. Very very very wet. It rained. A lot. On my head. We were forced to buy waterproof ponchos. We looked stupid, but we were dry.
Just as were crossing the huge, huge car-park to get the the car, it started hailing. And when it finished hailing, it dumped a volume of water on us equivalent to that contained in the North Atlantic Ocean. Many roads were flooded on the way back, but Vic's skillful driving got us home safely. And, considering were were negotiating treacherous roads and moronic drivers who had decided they didn't need to adjust their driving for the terrible, terrible conditions, it only took about 2 hours.
In conclusion, then: we had a fantastic day. Apart from Oblivion. I have palpitations just typing the word. So I won't.
After some poor choices, routewise and about 4 hours in the car, we made it. The weather was not exactly as advertised, but it was mild drizzle, so we decided to live with it - more to the point, Vic had begged and scrounged to get the day off and we'd just driven for four hours to get there - we were determined to have a fantastic time. Fantastic, I tell you!
Now, I should tell you at this point that neither Vic nor I had been to a major theme park before (Paultons Park notwithstanding) so this was a first for us. I, myself was somewhat nervous, being a bit of a girlie wuss. Still the first ride was easy. Actually it was the monorail from the car-park to the main entrance.
After negotiating the suicidally miserable lady at the ticket booth and her identical twin in the resataurant at which we grabbed our all-day-breakfast we made our way to our first proper ride. The runaway minecart.
WOOOHOOOO!!!! It was great. As was the Haunted Mansion with the guns - I scored twice as much as Stead and Vic - thrashed them in fact. Then we went on the boat swingie thing. Cool.
Then we tried the Airsaw.
Which was horrific. I will never go on that again. It was horrible, nasty and downright mean. It also wasn't working properly, so after several false starts which involved us dangling upside down at a great height, we finally suffered the true horror and, finally, got off. The worst was yet to come, however.
After trying several great rides - Air was fantastic but short, the log flume was girlie (but got Stead soaked!) the Pinball Wossname and the Black Hole were terrifying (in a good way), Stead suggested Oblivion.
Oblivion.
A sheer 300ft frop at around 70 miles per hour. It's over in about half a second. But... it's a sheer 300 foot drop. At 70 mile per hour. Not a chance. Fortunately, Vic seemed to have the same opinion so I made a deal with Stead. If he could persuade Vic to go on it, I would. And guess what. Vic decided to give it a go. So here's me, scared sh*tless of any height over about 3ft about to go on Oblivion. Which, I would remind you, is a sheer 300ft drop at around 70 miles per hour. That's down. Really fast.
I tried many excuses. After all, who in their right mind would want to be dropped 300ft at 70 miles per hour? Not me. I tried to convince my comrades that I was only 1.1 meters tall - 10cm under the minimum height restriction, but that didn't was. It said 'No Smoking', so I told them that I'd just started. There was a sign that said I couldn't go on if I had a heart condition. I explain that if I went on Oblivion, I would have a heart condition. Stead just told me to stop being a Lady.
Anyway. I went on it. I didn't die. And I'm never going to do it again. There's a very comical photo of me screaming like a little girl and emptying the contents of my bladder into my pants, which I'll scan and put on here when I get to a working scanner - probably Monday.
The final thing to mention about the day was the weather. Rather than being bright and dry, it was cloudy and very, very wet. Very very very wet. It rained. A lot. On my head. We were forced to buy waterproof ponchos. We looked stupid, but we were dry.
Just as were crossing the huge, huge car-park to get the the car, it started hailing. And when it finished hailing, it dumped a volume of water on us equivalent to that contained in the North Atlantic Ocean. Many roads were flooded on the way back, but Vic's skillful driving got us home safely. And, considering were were negotiating treacherous roads and moronic drivers who had decided they didn't need to adjust their driving for the terrible, terrible conditions, it only took about 2 hours.
In conclusion, then: we had a fantastic day. Apart from Oblivion. I have palpitations just typing the word. So I won't.
Loser!
Just a quickie. Had a letter from HR today informing me that they woulf not be putting my application forward. So they got it then. I'll need to ask for feedback on that.
Also, interestingly, an e-mail from Pen indicating that she, too had been unsuccessful and that the rumours were that Diane B had the job. We have lots of issues with Diane B. Not in an ability to do the job sense, but the fact that she's rude and unhelpful. What is of interest though is the fact that in retrospect it's almost as if the job spec was written for her - it lists all of her current skills - doesn't make us feel better but explains a lot.
Also, interestingly, an e-mail from Pen indicating that she, too had been unsuccessful and that the rumours were that Diane B had the job. We have lots of issues with Diane B. Not in an ability to do the job sense, but the fact that she's rude and unhelpful. What is of interest though is the fact that in retrospect it's almost as if the job spec was written for her - it lists all of her current skills - doesn't make us feel better but explains a lot.
Don't Read And Drive
I know this seems like pointless advice.
Surely, you're thinking, there's no-one out there stupid enough to balance a copy of Heat magazine on their steering whilst cruising down the motorway. Especially, you add to yourself, because it's so bloody dangerous and you might kill someone.
Well, if you're thinking that, you'd be wrong. There are people that stupid out there. Just yesterday, on the M5 I witnessed a numpty in a salesman silver Fiat doing just that. I was going to take a picture of her with my phone, cos I just know no-one will beleive me, but she got ahead of us and I didn't get an opportunity.
Surely, you're thinking, there's no-one out there stupid enough to balance a copy of Heat magazine on their steering whilst cruising down the motorway. Especially, you add to yourself, because it's so bloody dangerous and you might kill someone.
Well, if you're thinking that, you'd be wrong. There are people that stupid out there. Just yesterday, on the M5 I witnessed a numpty in a salesman silver Fiat doing just that. I was going to take a picture of her with my phone, cos I just know no-one will beleive me, but she got ahead of us and I didn't get an opportunity.
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Did I Mention...
...that I was still on holiday?
In fact I just spent a very productive day doing... NOTHING AT ALL!!!
In fact I just spent a very productive day doing... NOTHING AT ALL!!!
Sunday, October 17, 2004
My Weekend Away
Had a fairly relaxing weeekend at Hebron Hall in Dynas Powys (that'd be Sunny Wales) which is a Christian Conference centre. We went with 30-odd members of the church and had a very reasonable time, punctuated at regular intervals with very large meals (they described lasagne and chips followed by sticky toffee pudding as a 'light meal'). Can't complain about that!
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
The Cats Get High
It is a sad sad day when owners subject their cats to critical levels of catnip and reduce their poor defecless pussies to dribbling catnip junkies.
I swear that Rochester was jonesing almost as soon as we took the catnip fishy toy away from him. We had to do it, though. He'd ripped a hole in the side of the fish and emptied half the contents onto the floor where he rolled around and rubbed his face in his mess.
Ellie was a little more sensible about it. He merely slobbered all over his and turned it into a mushy catnip mess. niiiice.
I swear that Rochester was jonesing almost as soon as we took the catnip fishy toy away from him. We had to do it, though. He'd ripped a hole in the side of the fish and emptied half the contents onto the floor where he rolled around and rubbed his face in his mess.
Ellie was a little more sensible about it. He merely slobbered all over his and turned it into a mushy catnip mess. niiiice.
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Certifiably Lost
We've just been down 'south' for a couple of days, as Vic's mum was presented with her NVQ in ... er ... being an old-person-carer-forer. Anyway. She got an amusingly pointless blank scroll, a certificate and most importantly, a pen. Cool. Well done Vic's Mum.
Anyhoo. We started back from Walkford at a surprisingly resonable time and decided to stop off in Salisbury on the way back for a wander since we were driving through it anyway. Stut had previously mentioned that there was a good comic shop in Salisbury, so I was hoping to stop in and find a copy of Catwoman Thirty-something, which I need to complete the Batman storyline I'm reading.
Having been waylaid by an unexpected All-Day-Breakfast, we never did find the comic shop but we did succeed in getting hoplessly lost on the way back to the car. We probably spent more time searching for the car-park than we did actually looking round Salisbury itself.
One thinbg we did pick up while we were there was 2 fishy shaped catnip toys for the cats. Rather than being fullm of foam and a tiny, tiny amount of catnip, these were filled with just catnip. Loads of it. It'll be interesting to see how the cats react.
Well - Vic's off to see Hero tonight with some of her workmates, while I head out with Stead to see Layer Cake.
Anyhoo. We started back from Walkford at a surprisingly resonable time and decided to stop off in Salisbury on the way back for a wander since we were driving through it anyway. Stut had previously mentioned that there was a good comic shop in Salisbury, so I was hoping to stop in and find a copy of Catwoman Thirty-something, which I need to complete the Batman storyline I'm reading.
Having been waylaid by an unexpected All-Day-Breakfast, we never did find the comic shop but we did succeed in getting hoplessly lost on the way back to the car. We probably spent more time searching for the car-park than we did actually looking round Salisbury itself.
One thinbg we did pick up while we were there was 2 fishy shaped catnip toys for the cats. Rather than being fullm of foam and a tiny, tiny amount of catnip, these were filled with just catnip. Loads of it. It'll be interesting to see how the cats react.
Well - Vic's off to see Hero tonight with some of her workmates, while I head out with Stead to see Layer Cake.
Saturday, October 09, 2004
A Most Horrific Experience
Having stayed on in Bristol for a post-work drinkie last night, I came to realise just why I don't normally partake of such activities.
Having arrived at the bus-stop in plenty of time for the 18.35 bus home, I waited approximately 1 hour for a bus... The 18.35 did not turn up and the bus due at 19.10 sumply drove past with no regard for the half-dozen or so people frantically waving at it it.
All this time, having imbibed a pint or two of fluids in the pub, I was becoming more and more desperate for a wee. Busting, in fact.
When it reached 19.45 (the bus due at 19.35 simply didn't arrive), I decided enough was enough and phoned my personal chauffer (otherwise known as the Vickster) and pleaded for a collection service. To my relief, she agreed. Actually, relief was brobably the wrong word... if I'd been busting for a pee at 19.10, half an hour later, the contents of my bladder was reaching critical mass.
Fortunately, as I made my way to the designated rendezvous point, I noticed that the public convenience on Rupert Street was open for business. Thus I began the titular Horrific Experience.
The WC was dimly lit and the floor slippery with... er... well I'm not sure what it was slippery with and I don't think I want to know what it was slippery with (it was a thick viscous white fluid ansd ther was loads of it) - anyway, I made my way across this slippery deathtrap to the one cubicle with a door in it, shut myself in, bracing my feet against each side of the cubicle... the floor was so awash with... er... fluid that I would have been unable to stand otherwise and performed the requisite bodily function as quickly as possible. unfortunately, with 2 pints of coke in it, quickly was actually quite a long time.
During this time, two people entered the toilets. now anyone that's been in the centre of Bristol on a friday knight will know exactly why I was somewhat nervous. Kacking myself, to be accurate. I simple kept quiet and got on with the business at hand in the hope that I would not draw attention to myself.
Anyway... whatever these two lads were doing, it involved a ton of bog-roll (not real loo paper, the tracing paper stuff that is of no use to man nor beast) and what sounded like a very full tool bag.
Soon enough, they left. I waited a few moments, then departed myself - almost, but not quite slipping and landing on my face in the nameless horror that was the floor. I then made my way to the bottom of the Trenchard Steet car park, where I made myself look as big and scary as I could, so no-one would bother me. I doubt I looked big and scary, but no-one bothered me.
Vic came and rescued me a few minutes later. I love you Vic!
Having arrived at the bus-stop in plenty of time for the 18.35 bus home, I waited approximately 1 hour for a bus... The 18.35 did not turn up and the bus due at 19.10 sumply drove past with no regard for the half-dozen or so people frantically waving at it it.
All this time, having imbibed a pint or two of fluids in the pub, I was becoming more and more desperate for a wee. Busting, in fact.
When it reached 19.45 (the bus due at 19.35 simply didn't arrive), I decided enough was enough and phoned my personal chauffer (otherwise known as the Vickster) and pleaded for a collection service. To my relief, she agreed. Actually, relief was brobably the wrong word... if I'd been busting for a pee at 19.10, half an hour later, the contents of my bladder was reaching critical mass.
Fortunately, as I made my way to the designated rendezvous point, I noticed that the public convenience on Rupert Street was open for business. Thus I began the titular Horrific Experience.
The WC was dimly lit and the floor slippery with... er... well I'm not sure what it was slippery with and I don't think I want to know what it was slippery with (it was a thick viscous white fluid ansd ther was loads of it) - anyway, I made my way across this slippery deathtrap to the one cubicle with a door in it, shut myself in, bracing my feet against each side of the cubicle... the floor was so awash with... er... fluid that I would have been unable to stand otherwise and performed the requisite bodily function as quickly as possible. unfortunately, with 2 pints of coke in it, quickly was actually quite a long time.
During this time, two people entered the toilets. now anyone that's been in the centre of Bristol on a friday knight will know exactly why I was somewhat nervous. Kacking myself, to be accurate. I simple kept quiet and got on with the business at hand in the hope that I would not draw attention to myself.
Anyway... whatever these two lads were doing, it involved a ton of bog-roll (not real loo paper, the tracing paper stuff that is of no use to man nor beast) and what sounded like a very full tool bag.
Soon enough, they left. I waited a few moments, then departed myself - almost, but not quite slipping and landing on my face in the nameless horror that was the floor. I then made my way to the bottom of the Trenchard Steet car park, where I made myself look as big and scary as I could, so no-one would bother me. I doubt I looked big and scary, but no-one bothered me.
Vic came and rescued me a few minutes later. I love you Vic!
Friday, October 08, 2004
Still Nothing...
No phonecall. Nothing from HR. Can't get hold of The Man on the phone. I'm on holiday next week. What's a guy to do?
I'm a bit depressed about the whole thing now. Still - I'm going for a drink after work as it's Rob's last day in the office. Maybe that'll cheer me up.
I'm a bit depressed about the whole thing now. Still - I'm going for a drink after work as it's Rob's last day in the office. Maybe that'll cheer me up.
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
Pen 1 : Daz 0
Well, Pen got the phonecall today. She has an interview next week.
Oddly, I haven't even had the return slip back from my application, so I don't even know if it got to HR ok. If I don't hear anything tomorrow I'll give 'em a ring.
Oddly, I haven't even had the return slip back from my application, so I don't even know if it got to HR ok. If I don't hear anything tomorrow I'll give 'em a ring.
Thursday, September 30, 2004
Job Application
Today I applied for a new job. While I have nothing in particular against the job i do now, this newone appears to be the very same job for Internal Audit instead of Group Operations. As such, it's a band higher and therefore comes with a significant salary increase and best of all, a company car. For doing the same job.
I'd been given the heads-up about it a week or so ago and it appeared on the internal job board on the company's intranet yesterday morning. Since the closing date is Monday and I'm on holiday tomorrow and Monday, it was a case of getting the app in asap. So I have.
Now the fly in the ointment is this: The guy in charge of the department has phoned one of my colleagues and pretty much told her to apply. They've met once or twice before and he was impressed with her skills. But saying that, I can match her skill for skill, so I'm sure that I won't be too disadvantaged. The guy also mentioned, sort of in passing that he was hoping to get 2 positions rather than just the one advertised.
Fingers crossed...
I'd been given the heads-up about it a week or so ago and it appeared on the internal job board on the company's intranet yesterday morning. Since the closing date is Monday and I'm on holiday tomorrow and Monday, it was a case of getting the app in asap. So I have.
Now the fly in the ointment is this: The guy in charge of the department has phoned one of my colleagues and pretty much told her to apply. They've met once or twice before and he was impressed with her skills. But saying that, I can match her skill for skill, so I'm sure that I won't be too disadvantaged. The guy also mentioned, sort of in passing that he was hoping to get 2 positions rather than just the one advertised.
Fingers crossed...
Monday, September 27, 2004
Poo
Heh. No such luck. I just had a text message from the Vickster:
"I stepped in a poo. It was a fox poo and it was by the back of the car. I went to get something out of the boot and I stepped in it.
You broke a glass and I stepped in poo. Doesn't bode well for the week does it?"
Not really, Vic. Not really.
"I stepped in a poo. It was a fox poo and it was by the back of the car. I went to get something out of the boot and I stepped in it.
You broke a glass and I stepped in poo. Doesn't bode well for the week does it?"
Not really, Vic. Not really.
A Good Start
I had a good start to the day. Went into the kitchen. Turned the kettle on and one of the glasses miraculously leapt off the draining board and shattered all over the floor. Here's hoping it's all going to be uphill from there...
Sunday, September 26, 2004
The Gig
The gig rocked! The glorious event took place at a pub called the Badminton Arms down Yate way. Stead says they used to play their fairly frequently. After carrying loads of heavy stuff for the band, we stuffed our faces and then settled down to watch Stead and co make arses of themselves. Fortunately they didn't. They were, in fact the dog's bollocks (yes, I know I'm having a bit of an anatomy obsessed five minutes here)!
The band were great. Their Livin' on a Prayer was fanastic, as was Bohemian Like You and loads of other cool stuff. Oh yeah, and Bezz put his guitar on his head. Then there was the key-tar! It was great and the locals loved it.
Turrned out afterwards that the tab that the landlord set up for the band was free. If only we'd known that when we were ordering food! D'oh!
Went to see Hero with Dangerous Dave last night down at the Watershed. That was cool, too!
The band were great. Their Livin' on a Prayer was fanastic, as was Bohemian Like You and loads of other cool stuff. Oh yeah, and Bezz put his guitar on his head. Then there was the key-tar! It was great and the locals loved it.
Turrned out afterwards that the tab that the landlord set up for the band was free. If only we'd known that when we were ordering food! D'oh!
Went to see Hero with Dangerous Dave last night down at the Watershed. That was cool, too!
Friday, September 24, 2004
I'm Gonna Be Rich!
Oh yes. you are reading the blog of a man who's gonna be so rich, Bill Gates'll be coming round to scrounged a tenner! For one glorious afternoon, I'm gonna have more money than the Bush Dynasty.
Well... ok... that may be a bit of an exaggeration - but I'll definitely have more money than that guy who sells the Evening Post outside Debenhams. Won't have it for long though, unfortunately. We've remortgaged in an attempt to consolidate our debts and the surplus cash will be used to pay of car loans, credit cards and so-on. But, boy will I have tons of cash to my name for a few hours!
On a different note, Stead, Woolie, Pedro and I went to see Collateral on Wednesday night (Orange Wednesday - 2 for 1... cool!). It started off slow but got better as it went on. No real surprises, though and Tom Cruise's hair was, frankly, silly. Then I cleverly left my jacket (with my mp3 player still in the pocket) under my seat at the cinema. Very clever, I don't think. What's even better is that I didn't even notice I'd lost it until the following morning as I left for the bus... And couldn't find my jacket! Duh!
To make my evening even better (although admittedly I didn't know it was going badly at that point), when I got home, I found that the laptop was knackered. No problem, I thought. There's nothing important on hard disk - I'll just format it and reinstall windows using the 3 handy reload disk provided by the retailer! Easy Peasy. Easy, that is until I discovered that the second of the 3 disks was knackered. D'oh!
Never mind. Stead has a gig tonight - his first in a few years. Vic and I will be attending (I think I'm being drafted into some heavy lifting beforehand - damn my compulsive volunteering) and I'll post an update tomorrow.
Well... ok... that may be a bit of an exaggeration - but I'll definitely have more money than that guy who sells the Evening Post outside Debenhams. Won't have it for long though, unfortunately. We've remortgaged in an attempt to consolidate our debts and the surplus cash will be used to pay of car loans, credit cards and so-on. But, boy will I have tons of cash to my name for a few hours!
On a different note, Stead, Woolie, Pedro and I went to see Collateral on Wednesday night (Orange Wednesday - 2 for 1... cool!). It started off slow but got better as it went on. No real surprises, though and Tom Cruise's hair was, frankly, silly. Then I cleverly left my jacket (with my mp3 player still in the pocket) under my seat at the cinema. Very clever, I don't think. What's even better is that I didn't even notice I'd lost it until the following morning as I left for the bus... And couldn't find my jacket! Duh!
To make my evening even better (although admittedly I didn't know it was going badly at that point), when I got home, I found that the laptop was knackered. No problem, I thought. There's nothing important on hard disk - I'll just format it and reinstall windows using the 3 handy reload disk provided by the retailer! Easy Peasy. Easy, that is until I discovered that the second of the 3 disks was knackered. D'oh!
Never mind. Stead has a gig tonight - his first in a few years. Vic and I will be attending (I think I'm being drafted into some heavy lifting beforehand - damn my compulsive volunteering) and I'll post an update tomorrow.
Sunday, September 19, 2004
Waiting Around
Don't you just hate it when you spend the entire morning tidying and cleaning the house in anticipation of a visit from old friends who then fail to turn up.
Yeah. So do I.
Yeah. So do I.
Operation: Hellboy
After a day of undertaking important world changing activities: monitoring television boadcasts that we'd failed to watch in the week for potential intelligence leaks (no problems there, I can assure you), executing a vital incursion on the biscuit barrel (the custard creams had been threatening to invade the bourbon's territory for some time, whilst the bourbons had been threatening to deploy WMDs in retaliation - our peacekeeping operation ensured that neither party would be causing trouble again) and dealing with the world's tea surplus by drinking vast quantities of it; we rendezvoused with our allies in the North and West (Stead and Woolie, respectively) and performed a reconnaissance sortie into the demilitarised territory of Cribbs Causeway where we carried out an observation of footage pertaining to the comic book character 'Hellboy'.
Interference was caused by the infiltration of the audience by a large group of infant guerrilla militia who engaged in tapping, coughing, rustling and giggling activities, presumably in an attempt to provoke a violent reation from us which would have given away our position. Fortunately, we (and by 'we' I mean Stead) were able to curtail our (his) natural reaction and we remained undiscovered. The footage was excellent.
Upon completing our observation of this footage we were able to make a discrete withdrawal to our vehicle, whereupon we proceeded into hostile territory (locally known as the Stoker's pub car-park) in a successful effort to obtain supplies. Supplies obtained, we retreated to Woolie's HQ whereupon we refueled and retired to our respective barracks.
Interference was caused by the infiltration of the audience by a large group of infant guerrilla militia who engaged in tapping, coughing, rustling and giggling activities, presumably in an attempt to provoke a violent reation from us which would have given away our position. Fortunately, we (and by 'we' I mean Stead) were able to curtail our (his) natural reaction and we remained undiscovered. The footage was excellent.
Upon completing our observation of this footage we were able to make a discrete withdrawal to our vehicle, whereupon we proceeded into hostile territory (locally known as the Stoker's pub car-park) in a successful effort to obtain supplies. Supplies obtained, we retreated to Woolie's HQ whereupon we refueled and retired to our respective barracks.
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Venison, Californication and MotoGP
Now, you may be wondering what the connection between butchered deer, a mildly irritating Chilli Peppers song and a console racing game is. Not much, you're probably thinking. Well there is a connection and I'm gonna enlighten you (at this point I should warn you that the explanation ain't gonna be as exiting as you might think).
The connection is this: Corn Street.
Didn't explain a thing, did it? I shall elaborate.
Stead and I met for lunch today at a pub on Corn Street. While we were there, we noticed some unusual activity outside. Several people were wandering round taking photographs of the buildings on Corn Street. This activity left us puzzled for a few moments, until Stead announced that he was going to ask one of them what they were up to, which he did.
The man explained that he worked for a small software company who were putting together a racing game. One of the tracks was going to be in Bristol. They'd completed one last year with tracks in Barcelona and this new one would be out some time next year. Oh, we thought, it's not going to be anything we've heard of, is it? No. Just a piddly little game by the name of MotoGP, conidered by some to be the pinnacle of motorbike racing games. Duh.
So there's the MotoGP (and the more interesting) aspect of it.
Next comes the venison. There's a market on Corn Street. In thet market is a stall which sells game (it's called 'Game On', har de har). Now, I've never had venison before, so I searched my pockets for some cash and could only come up with enough to buy some venison cumberland sausages.
"Have you tried these before?" asked Martin, for that was his name.
"No," said I, for I had not.
"Well try some now," said he, producing a pot of sausage.
So I did. And very tasty it was too.
"It's a shame," mused Martin, "that you can't do the same with women."
Images flashed through my tiny mind of Martin chopping up his wife and turning her into sausages. Martin must have noticed the look on my face.
"Try before you buy", he said hurriedly.
Phew. Not a homicidal maniac, then!
So there's the venison. I can tell you're riveted - you're thinking, "Wow! Not only did he meet one of the developers of a hugely popular video game, he had a frankly hilarious conversation with a butcher in the same lunch break! How can you top that? Californication? What? Did he meet the Chilli Peppers walking down the street?"
No. The busker outside the bank was singing 'Californication'.
Badly.
The connection is this: Corn Street.
Didn't explain a thing, did it? I shall elaborate.
Stead and I met for lunch today at a pub on Corn Street. While we were there, we noticed some unusual activity outside. Several people were wandering round taking photographs of the buildings on Corn Street. This activity left us puzzled for a few moments, until Stead announced that he was going to ask one of them what they were up to, which he did.
The man explained that he worked for a small software company who were putting together a racing game. One of the tracks was going to be in Bristol. They'd completed one last year with tracks in Barcelona and this new one would be out some time next year. Oh, we thought, it's not going to be anything we've heard of, is it? No. Just a piddly little game by the name of MotoGP, conidered by some to be the pinnacle of motorbike racing games. Duh.
So there's the MotoGP (and the more interesting) aspect of it.
Next comes the venison. There's a market on Corn Street. In thet market is a stall which sells game (it's called 'Game On', har de har). Now, I've never had venison before, so I searched my pockets for some cash and could only come up with enough to buy some venison cumberland sausages.
"Have you tried these before?" asked Martin, for that was his name.
"No," said I, for I had not.
"Well try some now," said he, producing a pot of sausage.
So I did. And very tasty it was too.
"It's a shame," mused Martin, "that you can't do the same with women."
Images flashed through my tiny mind of Martin chopping up his wife and turning her into sausages. Martin must have noticed the look on my face.
"Try before you buy", he said hurriedly.
Phew. Not a homicidal maniac, then!
So there's the venison. I can tell you're riveted - you're thinking, "Wow! Not only did he meet one of the developers of a hugely popular video game, he had a frankly hilarious conversation with a butcher in the same lunch break! How can you top that? Californication? What? Did he meet the Chilli Peppers walking down the street?"
No. The busker outside the bank was singing 'Californication'.
Badly.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Trauma
I spent yesterday evening being traumatised.
A workmate lent me the video of Threads, an 80's movie about a nuclear attack on the UK - and Sheffield in particular. It was horribly realistic (as far as realistic goes in 80's movies), but sort of compelling. It was almost as depressing as a trip to Skipton. I don't recommend it to anyone with a weak consitution!
Had to cheer myself up after that by watching my new Clerks animated dvd. Cool.
Oh yeah... and Stead has finally shared his experiences at the Blood Donor session with the world:
I'd forgotten about the ex-boxer. He was a scary bloke (in a slurred, swaying 60 year old sort of way) and threatened to duff Stead up. Then he announced that he'd given 75 pints of blood and proudly showed us his gold donor card which almost (but not quite) impressed us.
A workmate lent me the video of Threads, an 80's movie about a nuclear attack on the UK - and Sheffield in particular. It was horribly realistic (as far as realistic goes in 80's movies), but sort of compelling. It was almost as depressing as a trip to Skipton. I don't recommend it to anyone with a weak consitution!
Had to cheer myself up after that by watching my new Clerks animated dvd. Cool.
Oh yeah... and Stead has finally shared his experiences at the Blood Donor session with the world:
OK - so here it is
For years I have been told by the Doctors that I was too cool and too damn sexy to give blood. They didnt want there to be a risk of cross-contamination with square/ugly people resulting in every molecule in their body blowing apart at the speed of light.... ya da ya da... actually i was just not heavy enough.
But now I am! and the JDK emailed on Friday and said "Stead, here's a good idea why dont we go to the community centre and get stabbed by some numpty with only rudermentry skills with a needle and allow our lifes blood to be drained away - with the certain reward of a manky bicky at the end of it"
I wasnt keen - but felt guilty so off we went. The scene was set - numpty's everywhere, forms to fill in and 2!!!! needles (something about an iron test) followed by a lie down on a bed with a nice lady...... looking after me - and the job was done. I did protest and say I would never do it again - but I probably will as long as "I used to be an ex-boxer, I've done 75 of these, I was in the army AND I was the first man on Mars" bloke isnt there..... tit.
So there you go. Not that exciting really was it - but the funny thing was they had posters up saying "Do something REALLY amazing and give bone marrow" - what will they want next? my Fecking KIDNEYS?
I'd forgotten about the ex-boxer. He was a scary bloke (in a slurred, swaying 60 year old sort of way) and threatened to duff Stead up. Then he announced that he'd given 75 pints of blood and proudly showed us his gold donor card which almost (but not quite) impressed us.
Sunday, September 12, 2004
E-Bunny
It would seem that my rabbit is fully conversant with today's digital age. She's spent the evening eating an e-mail.
Saturday, September 11, 2004
Episode 6: In Which Vic Goes to Hospital And Much Hilarity Ensues
Well, last night, we persuaded Norman... er... Vic to let us take her to Casualty to get her knee looked at by someone who knew a bit about medical stuff.
After Stead and I gave blood, we ganged up on Vic and forced her to accompany us to Frenchay Hospital.
Despite the fact that she's been walking around with no problems - the pain only comes when she touches it, or breathes or something - they insisted uopn confining her to a wheelchair (oh, I pointed and laughed, I did) and I had to push her to the x-ray department.
Whilst Vic had her knee x-rayed, I looked at the posters on the wall and discovered that there is something called Nuclear Medicine, which sounds really cool! Learn sumfink noo every day, I does.
Anyway, it turns out that Vic's knee is not cracked or chipped as she feared, but is just swollen and sore - It'll ge better as the fluid goes away. The consultant gave us a nice medical sounding explanation for the 'crunchiness' (Although the triage nurse described it as 'crackling' and the consultant said it was 'creaking' - they're medical professionals, they should know!) of the kneecap, which was nice, but left us none the wiser.
Well a wonderful evening was had by all. We got to chuckle about the rough looking girl with an eyepatch who was brought in cuffed to a pair of lady coppers (and had fun trying to guess which of the two coppers was the bitch and which was the butch one). Oh yeah... and there were so many dodgy people around, we felt really posh. Even Stead.
After Stead and I gave blood, we ganged up on Vic and forced her to accompany us to Frenchay Hospital.
Despite the fact that she's been walking around with no problems - the pain only comes when she touches it, or breathes or something - they insisted uopn confining her to a wheelchair (oh, I pointed and laughed, I did) and I had to push her to the x-ray department.
Whilst Vic had her knee x-rayed, I looked at the posters on the wall and discovered that there is something called Nuclear Medicine, which sounds really cool! Learn sumfink noo every day, I does.
Anyway, it turns out that Vic's knee is not cracked or chipped as she feared, but is just swollen and sore - It'll ge better as the fluid goes away. The consultant gave us a nice medical sounding explanation for the 'crunchiness' (Although the triage nurse described it as 'crackling' and the consultant said it was 'creaking' - they're medical professionals, they should know!) of the kneecap, which was nice, but left us none the wiser.
Well a wonderful evening was had by all. We got to chuckle about the rough looking girl with an eyepatch who was brought in cuffed to a pair of lady coppers (and had fun trying to guess which of the two coppers was the bitch and which was the butch one). Oh yeah... and there were so many dodgy people around, we felt really posh. Even Stead.
Friday, September 10, 2004
Blood
It was Bloodletting Day today. I managed to persuade Stead to come with me to the Blood Donor session. He's never been before and seemed quite jittery about the whole thing - which was odd - I've only ever seen Stead jittery once before and it was when he'd had a threat on his life, which is hardly the same thing as donating blood. Well... Ok there's blood loss involved in both situations, but I hardly think it's comparable, is it.
Anyway - Stead was less than impressed by the whole thing. His biggest worry was that he would be unable to play the drums on Sunday as his arm might hurt too much. Wuss.
After I failed to warn him about the finger pricking bit (where they jab you with a pricking thing and test your blood for iron) he suggested that perhaps I would be better off running for my life. Then, when he was lying on the bed, donating, he kept mouthing over to me "You're Dead" and such like. Fortunately he's such a wimp, I don't need to worry about these things!
Personally, I was extremely put out because they decided to withdaw their quota from my right arm. Now, I am a left arm donor. I've always had it from my left arm. So when they take it from my right arm, the concern is that I will become unbalanced (well more so than normal, anyway). And the nurse cocked it up and had to stick me twice with her lovely 2 mil needle. The bruise is quite impressive.
Well there we go. I'm hoping Stead'll post a few words on the JDBB so I can steal 'em and post them here. After all the bluster, it might be intersting to see what he really thought of the experience.
Anyway - Stead was less than impressed by the whole thing. His biggest worry was that he would be unable to play the drums on Sunday as his arm might hurt too much. Wuss.
After I failed to warn him about the finger pricking bit (where they jab you with a pricking thing and test your blood for iron) he suggested that perhaps I would be better off running for my life. Then, when he was lying on the bed, donating, he kept mouthing over to me "You're Dead" and such like. Fortunately he's such a wimp, I don't need to worry about these things!
Personally, I was extremely put out because they decided to withdaw their quota from my right arm. Now, I am a left arm donor. I've always had it from my left arm. So when they take it from my right arm, the concern is that I will become unbalanced (well more so than normal, anyway). And the nurse cocked it up and had to stick me twice with her lovely 2 mil needle. The bruise is quite impressive.
Well there we go. I'm hoping Stead'll post a few words on the JDBB so I can steal 'em and post them here. After all the bluster, it might be intersting to see what he really thought of the experience.
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
Noman Wisdom Has Entered The Building
I shouldn't laugh. It's not funny at all. Not even slightly (he he he).
I think Vic's post on the Jammie Dodger Bored Board says it all:
I think Vic's post on the Jammie Dodger Bored Board says it all:
I am never clumsy, I don't fall over, I don't break things, I don't
lose things. I do everything well.
Except this week it seems.
On Monday, I fell down the stairs, landed on my cocix (not broken, but bruised
enough to hurt when I sit down) and bashed my kidneys on the next step up - so I
have been stiff, and in pain since then.
Today, I fell over. I tripped over nothing and fell. I landed on my left knee and my right elbow(interesting I know!!). My right elbow is now bloody & raw (though not seriously hurt). I'm a bit worried about my knee though. It has swelled up HUGELY and gone all bruised and I can only feel half my knee cap - does anyone think this is something to worry about?
I can walk and bend my leg and stuff so I don't think there's anything desperately
worng, but now I know how old people feel - it hurts my bottom when I sit, my
kidneys more or less all the time, my elbow is throbbing and my poor knee is
well and truly knacked.
Might be phoning NHS Direct again eh?!!
(oh yes, the aforementioned hamstring injury was not as a result of clumsyness on my part - I did it without knowing whilst I was removing top soil from a friend's
garden).
As I said I shouldn laugh. But whe n it's usually me falling off the bed, down the stairs or just over my own feet ad being the subject of ridicule - usually from my good wife... well... I gotta really - aha ha ha ha ha.
Seriously though, the poor love is in quite a bit of pain, but the bruising and swelling has gone down quite considerably since yesterday.Tuesday, September 07, 2004
The Chronicles Of Riddick
Me 'n Stead went to see the eponymous movie tonight with the full expectation that it was going to be the biggest load of pants since... er... that particularly big load of pants that made it on the news in.. er 1956.
It was surprisingly good.
It was surprisingly good.
Monday, September 06, 2004
Vic Falls Down The Stairs
Vic phoned me at work today to announce that she had fallen down the stairs. And landed on her arse. Now Vic is normally a pretty stable girl when it comes to remaining in a vertical position - all he bits that should be at the top tend to remain at the top and those parts that are supposed to be on the ground... well they tend to stay there. In the normal fashion.
(Unlike me - I've managed to fall down the stairs at least 3 times in the past year!)
Anyway, it would seem that she's banged her backside and given her kidneys a bit of a whack. Nothing serious - just enough to give her an achey lower half and remind her that there is an accepted stair traversal method for a reason.
(Unlike me - I've managed to fall down the stairs at least 3 times in the past year!)
Anyway, it would seem that she's banged her backside and given her kidneys a bit of a whack. Nothing serious - just enough to give her an achey lower half and remind her that there is an accepted stair traversal method for a reason.
Sunday, September 05, 2004
Yet Another Tedious Blog Clutters Up The Net
Yes, my friends. I, too have succumbed to the desire to share the intimate details of my life with the Internet at large. Prepare to be dazzled by my wit, charmed by my... er... charm and generally bored out of your tiny minds by the minutae of my daily struggle to come up with something interesting to blog about!
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