There’s nothing quite like booking a long weekend off work to help focus the mind, whilst still at work, on the long weekend you’ve just booked off. I get de-mob happy around Tuesday, anticipating the Friday I’ll be having off, drinking cold beer in a quite boozah, or if the weathers nice, outside one and being de-mob happy isn’t very conducive to putting in a long hard day at the office.
Still, managed to crack a database modelling problem I’d been having for a couple of days, how to relate so many disparate bits of information together, so by Thursday I was happy enough to leave the office for 4 days and not think about work. Much.
Friday, lovely day, so cycled to Hertford and bought a couple of books, one being the complete Reggie Perrin series which I’d watched on the telly years ago but assumed, rightly, that the book would be better than the programme; it’s a lot darker, depression drove that poor man into the sea, middle age depression too, so I know how he feels. Later, I went to the pub by the river and the missus and younger smasher joined me and I found I was looking at the river the way Reggie must've looked at the sea; I'm so middle aged and depressed, goddammit!!
Saturday, into town to watch the dragon boat racing along the river, rotary stuff I was happy to contribute to even though I knew nothing of where my charity money would be going, it just felt right to give to this nice middle class organisation, y’know?
Then we went to a pub and had a couple by the river, while secretly eating Greggs sausage rolls, because everyone fancied one and I fancied a cold beer and we didnae fancy expensive pub grub innit.
Football, Sunday, another dull game, watched in my local, kids painted up, the missus and I bedecked in our England kit, her skimpy shorts and figure hugging top, me in figure hugging everything, not a good look but I’ll be fucked if I’m paying out for another England kit, the 1998 kit is good enough. 4 pints down and we’re through to the next round. Result.
Monday, last day off, lots of calls to and from builders and financial advisers about this loan we’re after for a loft extension; it seems like a simple enough proposal but they all want their pound of flesh, the repayments are incredibly steep, even over 25 years, not that I got that many years in me of course…ah well, we’ll see. Back to work tomorrow, book me some time off I will.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Sunday, June 18, 2006
It's been a hot week
It’s been a hot week, on the Monday evening, all the trains were fucked and I had to get on a Moorgate train with the bike, which was fine except 2 stops out and I’m up against a window and someone’s face is up against me, then it got really bad at the next stop when even more people crammed on. Now, there I was, at the door, perched over the folding bike, wondering why on earth I bought the bloody thing when we get to Finsbury park, oh well, I think, no way can it get any worst, I think we’re done here thanks…but wait, what the fuck! People are literally, throwing themselves into the train hoping that they’ll somehow stick to the inside, or, in my case, stick to me and I know this’ll sound all wrong, but this bird gets on, really attractive and she’s grabbing at me like a falling climber or something, so that she’s not sucked out of the carriage when the doors close. In tern, gentleman that I am, gallantly flex a muscle or two for her to hold onto and I swear, the door closes, somehow, and I’m like, I’ve not been this intimate with a woman in years! Down boy Down!…Christ, it was the most crowed train I’ve ever been on. Ever.
Thursday and we’re allowed out early for the football and in minutes I’ve ridden from Peckham to the City to meet up with some so-called mates in a boozah that isn’t charging us money to enter and pay good money while watching the match on their screen. But, by 4pm, when I get there and lock the bike up, there’s a massive queue already and the doormen are letting one in for one out. Nightmare. But we manage to get in and find a corner to stand in and watch the match and drink warm expensive bottled beer. Cycling to the train station, my mind on the wonderful victory I’ve just witnessed, happily pished as a fart, I accidentally on purpose go through a red light, well, why not, every other fecking cyclist does it, why not me? But, would you bloody believe it, a copper detaches himself from a crowd, stops me by waving me down. Steady now lad, I’m thinking…nice and easy…
yesh Offisure?
Now then son, you know what you just did there, don’t you, and in front of me too!
Uh-huh, hmmm yesh…shoo sorreee offisah…umm wont happen again, honeshed
Aaaalright then, off you go!
Phew. Result or what?!
Not a bad weekend sent the smasher off to scouts day Saturday morning, 8:30am! So spent the day with the young ‘un and the missus, just like the old days when there was just one smasher to take care of, so we went to the pub, a nice quite country one and had a BBQ that evening, oh well, why not? Everyone else does. Sunday, not a lot, another pub, the park, garden and early night.
Thursday and we’re allowed out early for the football and in minutes I’ve ridden from Peckham to the City to meet up with some so-called mates in a boozah that isn’t charging us money to enter and pay good money while watching the match on their screen. But, by 4pm, when I get there and lock the bike up, there’s a massive queue already and the doormen are letting one in for one out. Nightmare. But we manage to get in and find a corner to stand in and watch the match and drink warm expensive bottled beer. Cycling to the train station, my mind on the wonderful victory I’ve just witnessed, happily pished as a fart, I accidentally on purpose go through a red light, well, why not, every other fecking cyclist does it, why not me? But, would you bloody believe it, a copper detaches himself from a crowd, stops me by waving me down. Steady now lad, I’m thinking…nice and easy…
yesh Offisure?
Now then son, you know what you just did there, don’t you, and in front of me too!
Uh-huh, hmmm yesh…shoo sorreee offisah…umm wont happen again, honeshed
Aaaalright then, off you go!
Phew. Result or what?!
Not a bad weekend sent the smasher off to scouts day Saturday morning, 8:30am! So spent the day with the young ‘un and the missus, just like the old days when there was just one smasher to take care of, so we went to the pub, a nice quite country one and had a BBQ that evening, oh well, why not? Everyone else does. Sunday, not a lot, another pub, the park, garden and early night.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Rest of holiday
Let's see, Shanklin, Needles, coupla meals out, local entertainment, you know, the usual really. Ferry home on the Saturday and a 2 hour drive home. Fish and chips for tea. Typically, it's been boiling ever since I set foot on the ferry back home!
This week, I've been spending a lot of my time in and out of my local bike shop, seeing if my Dahon D7 has arrivd yet. Thursday, I go in to collect it, then ride my ass to Liverpool Street station, nearly coming off a couple of time, once round the Elephant round-a-bout - very scared I was. The bike fits, on the train without much hassle and I've now got a cycle route of London map, to help me steer clear of the worst of the traffic. How long will I keep this nonsense up? dunno, but for now at least I'm having fun, getting fit and saving money, a lot of money and, let's face it, I do look a bit of a street-rag-a-muffin-style-skater-dude now, turning the chicks heads as I wizz past...hey! look at that fat cunt on that silly wee bike they're almost definitely not saying...giggle
This week, I've been spending a lot of my time in and out of my local bike shop, seeing if my Dahon D7 has arrivd yet. Thursday, I go in to collect it, then ride my ass to Liverpool Street station, nearly coming off a couple of time, once round the Elephant round-a-bout - very scared I was. The bike fits, on the train without much hassle and I've now got a cycle route of London map, to help me steer clear of the worst of the traffic. How long will I keep this nonsense up? dunno, but for now at least I'm having fun, getting fit and saving money, a lot of money and, let's face it, I do look a bit of a street-rag-a-muffin-style-skater-dude now, turning the chicks heads as I wizz past...hey! look at that fat cunt on that silly wee bike they're almost definitely not saying...giggle
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Ticket to Ryde
Day two, or the first full day on the Island. Up early because the sun’s beating down on the tent, I’m massively dehydrated for some reason but ironically, I’m also dying for a waz. (is that ironic? – if it is, then it implies I drink my own wee doesn’t it?…or does it? – fuck it, dunno). So head off to the port-a-loo /showers, which, already, at 6:30am, are a seething mass of fat, hairy, smelly and wet blokes, so that’s alright then. I find a spare trap and squeeze last nights booze and pies out me arse while the guy, literally, 3 inches away, in his trap, does the same…camping I love it.
We decide we’re gonna “take it easy” for the first day so head off to Ryde to enjoy watching the sewage wash in from the bay, foaming away as it does, on the sand and if it wasn’t sewage then it smelt and looked a lot like it. Never ones to be put off by a little pong, we set the kids off in it’s direction, sat back and quickly dozed off only to be awoken, some time later, red-raw-burnt-to-fuckery – no, none of us realised, after our collectedly 120 years on earth, that if we stayed out in the sun, without sun cream, we’d get burnt! Must’ve been a long winter, easy thing to forget.
Lunch was had in Subway, the sandwich place, then, feeling homesick already, we all went to Tesco’s to help us re-adjust, slowly, to the Island life and it’s different pace. Great shop too, slipped a pair of tescos shorts, (waist 36) and tracksuit bottoms (expandable)…and swimming trunks (expandable also) in with the burgers and throw-a-way BBQ set. (don’t think anyone noticed)
That evening, we ate like kings, all washed down with some cheap Bulgarian red to keep out the cold of the night.
Day three, or the second full day…Black gang chine for us, never heard of it? No, nor me until I tell anyone, it seemed, I was off to the Island, Oh, you must go to Blackman chine they say…Chine, by the way, means Ravine in Island language apparently. The theme park was ok, for wee kids really, nothing heart poundingly awesome to go on, unless you count the spinning tea cup ride, which I don’t, but it was great for the kids and that’s all that counts these days, apparently, nothing is for me anymore, it’s never anything I want to do or to go, no all-day benders in a local boozah for daddy, oh no!…yeah, well, so…anyway. Forget what came next, I think my sister ran over some raised rocks in a park and dented her hired car, or summat…yeah, that’s right, then tried to blame it on me, like Ronney in Corrie trying to stitch up Steve, when she ran over a pensioner but got caught on camera speeding away from the scene of the crime and she’s like, Oh Steve, take the speeding rap for me, I can’t afford to have any more points on my license, but like, Steve don’t know the car killed that old guy…yeah?!…he don’t know yet!!
We decide we’re gonna “take it easy” for the first day so head off to Ryde to enjoy watching the sewage wash in from the bay, foaming away as it does, on the sand and if it wasn’t sewage then it smelt and looked a lot like it. Never ones to be put off by a little pong, we set the kids off in it’s direction, sat back and quickly dozed off only to be awoken, some time later, red-raw-burnt-to-fuckery – no, none of us realised, after our collectedly 120 years on earth, that if we stayed out in the sun, without sun cream, we’d get burnt! Must’ve been a long winter, easy thing to forget.
Lunch was had in Subway, the sandwich place, then, feeling homesick already, we all went to Tesco’s to help us re-adjust, slowly, to the Island life and it’s different pace. Great shop too, slipped a pair of tescos shorts, (waist 36) and tracksuit bottoms (expandable)…and swimming trunks (expandable also) in with the burgers and throw-a-way BBQ set. (don’t think anyone noticed)
That evening, we ate like kings, all washed down with some cheap Bulgarian red to keep out the cold of the night.
Day three, or the second full day…Black gang chine for us, never heard of it? No, nor me until I tell anyone, it seemed, I was off to the Island, Oh, you must go to Blackman chine they say…Chine, by the way, means Ravine in Island language apparently. The theme park was ok, for wee kids really, nothing heart poundingly awesome to go on, unless you count the spinning tea cup ride, which I don’t, but it was great for the kids and that’s all that counts these days, apparently, nothing is for me anymore, it’s never anything I want to do or to go, no all-day benders in a local boozah for daddy, oh no!…yeah, well, so…anyway. Forget what came next, I think my sister ran over some raised rocks in a park and dented her hired car, or summat…yeah, that’s right, then tried to blame it on me, like Ronney in Corrie trying to stitch up Steve, when she ran over a pensioner but got caught on camera speeding away from the scene of the crime and she’s like, Oh Steve, take the speeding rap for me, I can’t afford to have any more points on my license, but like, Steve don’t know the car killed that old guy…yeah?!…he don’t know yet!!
Monday, June 05, 2006
The Island
The Island, you know it’s funny, everyone you meet who’s been to the IoW say Oh, it’s just like England was 50 years ago! And they’re right, I hardly saw a black face all week! So then….day One:
Set off early doors to Portsmouth with a fair wind behind us, all eager beavers in the new Nissan Tino but we get a call 20 miles from our destination, my sister has caused some major accident or something and will be delayed somewhat. Christ I say, you’ll have to turn off somewhere, and I pass the mobile to the missus while I get out the A-Z and talk the sister down safely, via a few B roads, so good were my directions that she, in fact, got to the ferry before us. Amazing. We, meanwhile, passed an hour or so in a local park eating sausage rolls and drinking tea. nice.
So, the ferry, in force 9 gales, spun us all, eventually, across the Solent to the Island where we then set off to find our campsite come resort. We turned up something like 4 hours early, so killed some time sitting outside a beach pub knocking back some Kroni’s and eating chips, watching the black clouds roll over us...well, we were on ours holiday innit.
The tent accommodation was spacious if not luxurious, clean if you didn’t count the ants crawling over everything and all just a stones throw away from the port-a-loo huts that were our showers/toilets for the duration. No other course for it but to carry on drinking and to txt me so-called mate that we were waiting for him in Cowes, as arranged, just for the simple pleasure of watching him worm his oily northern hide outya meeting up, as it was, he simply ignored me, so was no fun there then.
Camp entertainment was excellent that night; I love a bit of YMCAing. Always have done. Always will do. And so to bed, after a bottle of red, sitting outside the tent, wrapped up in blankets, watching the wild bunnies hop over me feet and onto my lap…or was I just pissed by then?
Set off early doors to Portsmouth with a fair wind behind us, all eager beavers in the new Nissan Tino but we get a call 20 miles from our destination, my sister has caused some major accident or something and will be delayed somewhat. Christ I say, you’ll have to turn off somewhere, and I pass the mobile to the missus while I get out the A-Z and talk the sister down safely, via a few B roads, so good were my directions that she, in fact, got to the ferry before us. Amazing. We, meanwhile, passed an hour or so in a local park eating sausage rolls and drinking tea. nice.
So, the ferry, in force 9 gales, spun us all, eventually, across the Solent to the Island where we then set off to find our campsite come resort. We turned up something like 4 hours early, so killed some time sitting outside a beach pub knocking back some Kroni’s and eating chips, watching the black clouds roll over us...well, we were on ours holiday innit.
The tent accommodation was spacious if not luxurious, clean if you didn’t count the ants crawling over everything and all just a stones throw away from the port-a-loo huts that were our showers/toilets for the duration. No other course for it but to carry on drinking and to txt me so-called mate that we were waiting for him in Cowes, as arranged, just for the simple pleasure of watching him worm his oily northern hide outya meeting up, as it was, he simply ignored me, so was no fun there then.
Camp entertainment was excellent that night; I love a bit of YMCAing. Always have done. Always will do. And so to bed, after a bottle of red, sitting outside the tent, wrapped up in blankets, watching the wild bunnies hop over me feet and onto my lap…or was I just pissed by then?
