Yet again, we find ourselves in a familiar situation. Another weekend in Manchester and after last time, I honestly didn't think things could get more inconvenient and/or messy. Delete as appropriate. The only difference from last time is that I never intended for it to get to that stage...
Again.
Last time, I was in serious need of a let-loose session, a time where I didn't care what happened to me, I just wanted to feel lost and free without anything to think about. This time, I was just intending to get merry and enjoy being around the best friends I could hope for. This is where the story begins.
Friday afternoon, 2pm. Time to leave. The journey was slightly different to last times, as we had to pick Kets up from Coventry, so a slight diversion needed. I was never anticipating 5 and a half hours of driving though and by the time we got there, in darkness, at 7.30pm, I felt a little bit jaded. But a party was happening, so party I would. The pre-drinks was a fairly quiet affair, me sitting in the corner with my Jack Daniels and coke while people left and came back again after changing into party clothes. I think we left at about 10.20pm in the end. To Font, we go.
The scene of last times events, and I was determined to not leave in the same state. I took it easy, with flashes of madness. A couple of hours later, and a few cocktails inside my stomach, and half of another one all over my jeans, (accidental barmaid collision), we went on our way to Factory. The final resting place of my old guts. Hopefully, I would last longer than 20 minutes this time...
I did. In fact, I lasted much longer, but the place itself wasn't amazing. No good music on offer mixed with the club version of the Hillsborough disaster plus a modicum of tiredness, meant we had a fairly early night. After a brief excursion to some kebab place, in which I got abused by a Nigerian bouncer who told me to, "shut the fuck up", because I questioned his demands for us to move, we got a couple of cabs home and to sleep.
Well, I say, "to sleep". I don't know if anyone has tried sleeping on cold, hard, wooden flooring with only the help of a blanket and a rather hard cushion, but it is as impossible as finding your way out of Coventry without having to use the Ring Road that has no exits. It didn't happen, and the only bit of sleep I got was severely cut short by Beddoe's flatmates amusingly crashing in with a road sign and a large amount of noise. Of this, I was grateful, as it gave me something to do as we headed downstairs for a bit of 'Annoy Beddoe'. Common practice in the household, I hear. Pictures prove the habitual drunken times. However, at about 5.30am, people drifted off to bed, leaving me to try and battle the hard floor with a bit of will power. None of which I have. I tried sleeping in the car, which was just as impossible thanks to the Arctic temperatures, so at 8am, I gave up and sat reading the local paper until 11am, as people started to awake from their comfortable hours of sleep on soft material.
Luckily, Beddoe gave me the opportunity of a good few hours kip in his bed as the others went to wherever they did. I forget now. But, there was no excuses for missing out on the Saturday night, which I have inclined to on a couple of occasions when Beddoe lived in Halls. The plan was to go to the favourite, 5th Avenue, as Beddoe had been invited to a birthday do there, so we were back at it again. I sifted my way through a few double JD and cokes and I was in a good mood as we walked back out in the cold, jumping in a minibus, on the way to a night where I was convinced I would get drunk, but not too drunk.
You see, sometimes it works out that way. But when a club offers a double vodka Red Bull for the same price as a single, sometimes, it doesn't. Combined with good music and the fact that Beddoe's mate, Chris, was making us laugh with quirky jokes in his northern accent, things got... happy. I didn't think I had had that much. I worked out a (much) later time, that I had spent only £25. A fraction of the amount I had spent last time. However, after seeing off a fair number of VodBulls, things got a bit hazy.
I don't remember walking out of the club. The only thing I remember is being threatened by a Manc woman for walking near her. I recall saying, "I don't want any trouble, I just want to go home". The next thing I knew, I was on the floor, with Beddoe's tasty Spaghetti Bolognese in a pile on the floor in front of me, and I was severely shaking. I was lucky that a few friendly passers-by rang an ambulance. I remember lying on that floor for a fair amount of time, just wanting it to end. The bad thoughts, the fact that I had left myself drift into the same drunken position yet again, thinking that anything is better than this. Anything.
The paramedics turned up, in their almost rude but helpful manner. They don't like it when they have to deal with self-inflicted rubbish like this. I was helped into the ambulance and I was on my way to Manchester Royal Infirmary. The 2nd time I had ended up in hospital because of drink. This time though, it was much worse.
I could feel the phone in my pocket vibrating, constantly. I knew people were trying to find out if I was OK, and the worry they must have felt... I remember thinking that no one would want to be around me during this time, so I settled down for a night-shift of recovery. Once, I had ended up in Bedford Hospital, they gave me loads of fluids, and I was ok in a few hours. Not this one. They shoved me in Cubicle 3. A boiling hot room with the most uncomfortable of beds, but I could do nothing but cry. Why have I done this again? I was rock bottom. I texted a few close friends, none of which were in Manchester, and told them that I was useless. Told them I was considering doing the unthinkable. Mountaneous calls came and went, unanswered, while I lay and cried my heart out. This was the end...
...
After a couple of hours, I was awoken by the voice of Beddoe. I could hear him outside asking where I was and a few seconds later, he was in giving me a huge hug that showed relief. He was with Billie, and we sat for a couple of hours. Talking. Things turned bad though. The depressant was working it's magic, and I started to open up a bit. I told them how I couldn't deal with all the problems anymore, and I had to do something. It was 5am, when I told Beddoe, after many tears from all parties, especially me, to tell Mum everthing. Ring her, text her, I don't mind. Just tell her everything. It really wasn't fair on Beddoe. He had had a lot aswell, yet the text he wrote to my Mum was perfect. A perfect reflection on what had gone through my mind for the last 3 years. I then rang Mum, not perturbed by the fact it was stupid o'clock and told her everything, from the horses mouth.
It's all out there. The rents know I'm bi-everything. In fact, they had known for ages. It turns out, I was worrying so much over something they already knew about.
After 8 hours of trying to find a comfortable position on that god-awful bed, I was seen to by a General Health Nurse, who recommended that I need professional help. I suppose it's time I stop being so stubborn and accept that people are trying to help, and not make things worse. After another phone call to Mum and my sister, to who I apologised for my silence for the past week over last week's events, I reached Beddoe's house. 11am it was, when I walked in through the door and was presented with a sea of faces. Faces that smiled, and then laughed with a mixture of impressiveness and pride. I wasn't really in the mood to explain to them all, although I felt relieved that it was all out in the open. I just needed sleep. Everyone looked incredibly jaded.
It turns out I wasn't the only one who had let loose. But I was the only one to create stories that no one could script. And honestly? I've learnt this weekend, that people who you should trust, can be trusted. It sounds so simple.
I won't say something like, "I'm never going to let myself get to that stage again", because I've said that a few times now, and then look what happens! I will let life live it's course, with the help of people I need in my ears. I drove home, just about, tonight, thinking about what I would say to Mum and Dad when I got in. I drove home, in an almost silent car, just thinking about what the next few weeks have in store. Tough times ahead, my friends. Tough times.
But finally, as the X-Factor voiceover man once famously said... It's time, to face, the music.
Monday 31 January 2011
Friday 28 January 2011
Insulting or Just Plain Banter?
I'd like your opinion on something.
Tonight, I was on the line at Kempston Rovers who were playing Sileby Rangers. It was an OK game, no major decisions and I felt my personal performance was credible, but I lost concentration for the last 15 minutes or so. I didn't get anything majorly wrong because of it, but it's something I need to work on. It's not my performance I want an opinion of though.
A short way into the first half, a few well-known faces appeared in the stands behind me. CC and a couple of referees, (including a couple of one of their friends, who I happen to know aswell). Originally, I was slightly put off that they were behind me. I could hear them making a couple of playful comments, nothing insulting or anything, just banter, but for a while it put me off my game. They didn't hang around for the 2nd half. They were too cold!
It wasn't that cold. I was a little chilly in my short-sleeved Wembley kit, but I was moving around!
The 2nd half wasn't a major event. As I said, I lost concentration towards the end, but the final whistle came and went and I had a friendly chat with Nev and Tiny afterwards and all was well. I was relatively pleased with my performance, and it was another game done, no fuss.
However, it's not any of this I want an opinion on either.
I got home, and went on Facebook. It's becoming a familiar trend of mine in my unemployed days and I started speaking to CC, being a refereeing expert and a friend I can trust to be completely honest. I wanted a few pointers on how I did on the time he was there, but he just said I did OK and pointed out I may have got an offside wrong but, "it happens". It is not this I want your opinion of either...
CC then moved on to another subject. He was stood with everyone else and told me, incredibly honestly, that these people may have made a couple of comments. Homophobic comments. I know these people, most of these people are friends and people I know, not strangers. He said a couple of comments were made by one particular person and a couple of, "actions". I can accept that they were never intended to be hurtful or spiteful to me. I know they were just mucking about, but do you think there was any need for them to do it? It is this I want your opinion on.
Should I be angry or annoyed that these people, who aren't bad people, that they think it OK to make comments and actions that could very easily be percieved as insulting to me? When CC first told me, I thought I wasn't so bothered. They are good mannered people and they didn't mean anything by it.
But since then, I just haven't stopped thinking about it. I still think they were never supposed to be hurtful, but I wonder why they felt it necessary to say these things and do these things anyway? They must have known I may have taken it badly if I were to hear them or consequently find out like I did. So are they just not bothered? Do they think it's OK to say such things if they don't think the subject of their words will be bothered?
And I wonder if acquaintances and friends feel like they can get away with it, what's to say complete strangers, who don't know me, will think otherwise? I have never had any bother at all, so tonight's events are the first.
Or am I overreacting? Am I just taking it too seriously? They never meant to hurt me so should I just take it as banter and accept it? I don't know... I'm not so sure I should accept it as it is still a sensitive subject to me. I have been much more open about my sexuality now, even telling someone else tonight who didn't know a thing, but can I just accept such comments as banter? How far does it have to get to become insulting?
So many questions... I would really like all of the opinions of whoever reads this. Because I never thought it would trouble me as much as it has..
Tonight, I was on the line at Kempston Rovers who were playing Sileby Rangers. It was an OK game, no major decisions and I felt my personal performance was credible, but I lost concentration for the last 15 minutes or so. I didn't get anything majorly wrong because of it, but it's something I need to work on. It's not my performance I want an opinion of though.
A short way into the first half, a few well-known faces appeared in the stands behind me. CC and a couple of referees, (including a couple of one of their friends, who I happen to know aswell). Originally, I was slightly put off that they were behind me. I could hear them making a couple of playful comments, nothing insulting or anything, just banter, but for a while it put me off my game. They didn't hang around for the 2nd half. They were too cold!
It wasn't that cold. I was a little chilly in my short-sleeved Wembley kit, but I was moving around!
The 2nd half wasn't a major event. As I said, I lost concentration towards the end, but the final whistle came and went and I had a friendly chat with Nev and Tiny afterwards and all was well. I was relatively pleased with my performance, and it was another game done, no fuss.
However, it's not any of this I want an opinion on either.
I got home, and went on Facebook. It's becoming a familiar trend of mine in my unemployed days and I started speaking to CC, being a refereeing expert and a friend I can trust to be completely honest. I wanted a few pointers on how I did on the time he was there, but he just said I did OK and pointed out I may have got an offside wrong but, "it happens". It is not this I want your opinion of either...
CC then moved on to another subject. He was stood with everyone else and told me, incredibly honestly, that these people may have made a couple of comments. Homophobic comments. I know these people, most of these people are friends and people I know, not strangers. He said a couple of comments were made by one particular person and a couple of, "actions". I can accept that they were never intended to be hurtful or spiteful to me. I know they were just mucking about, but do you think there was any need for them to do it? It is this I want your opinion on.
Should I be angry or annoyed that these people, who aren't bad people, that they think it OK to make comments and actions that could very easily be percieved as insulting to me? When CC first told me, I thought I wasn't so bothered. They are good mannered people and they didn't mean anything by it.
But since then, I just haven't stopped thinking about it. I still think they were never supposed to be hurtful, but I wonder why they felt it necessary to say these things and do these things anyway? They must have known I may have taken it badly if I were to hear them or consequently find out like I did. So are they just not bothered? Do they think it's OK to say such things if they don't think the subject of their words will be bothered?
And I wonder if acquaintances and friends feel like they can get away with it, what's to say complete strangers, who don't know me, will think otherwise? I have never had any bother at all, so tonight's events are the first.
Or am I overreacting? Am I just taking it too seriously? They never meant to hurt me so should I just take it as banter and accept it? I don't know... I'm not so sure I should accept it as it is still a sensitive subject to me. I have been much more open about my sexuality now, even telling someone else tonight who didn't know a thing, but can I just accept such comments as banter? How far does it have to get to become insulting?
So many questions... I would really like all of the opinions of whoever reads this. Because I never thought it would trouble me as much as it has..
Wednesday 26 January 2011
Understanding The Task At Hand
Many times a day, maybe 8 or 9, never reaching double figures however, I traipse through long lists of vacancies on every possible job site going for any glimmer of any company that are mad enough to offer a job to someone with little of what the business call, "experience". My days are spent sitting here, listening to Dire Straits and similar musical types, trying to find something that comes close to, "not boring but please give me the weekends off".
Some would tell me not to be so picky. Life, especially at the moment, after Mr.King's latest depressing outlook, isn't going to be full of apples and the likelihood that you, (yes, you, you 19 year old lazy arse), are going to pick a healthy apple off the job tree is as likely as Ms.Gabor re-growing her leg.
Ok, maybe not. Of course it is POSSIBLE, unlike poor old Zsa-Zsa, but the likelihood of it happening is small. Of course, my new adventure begins in 7 months, (yes, the time is going slowly), but in the short-term it only hampers my hopes of getting a stable job. I need to be more greedy. When the time comes, which it will, and I get an interview for some fleeting, career-expanding, junior position in a middle-brand company of some sort, I will find it morally difficult to come up with all the, "interview bullshit", that crops up at every interview in existence. The fact you are looking to, "build a career within this brightly visioned company", and, "looking to progress quickly and efficiently", I just couldn't do it without cracking up. Knowing I would be handing my notice in after 6 months. It does seem morally incorrect. This is where greed needs to be apparent.
Which is why I am being very hopeful indeed of finding a contract position. A 6-month contract, where I know, and the company knows, that I will leave after 6 months. In today's climate though, it really is impossible. I am being incredibly optimistic in finding a job like this. Too hopeful and this will be my downfall, unless I can become more greedy and ignore the feeling of ripping the company off. You're all thinking, "who cares?!", but I would not be able to put myself forward in the sufficient job-gaining light, without showing some sort of knowledge of what I am doing.
And no, for the Nine-Hundred and Ninety-Seventh time, I do not know what my brain is thinking either.
And that is the dilemma. Others, with less knowledge of what it really is like trying to find a job in times like this. Others who reckon I could easily get 3 jobs and play 'Ip Dip Dog S***' with them. They don't understand. And of course, I threw away a perfectly reasonable job, but it ruined me. And let's face it, I can't be ruined much more without physically disappearing.
So, I will muster on through the muddy existence of the job hunt and hypothetically fight with invisible people on The Internet for the chance to even get recognised. For your records, I have applied for 23 jobs since I quit, and I haven't even had a reply from 1 of them. Brutal.
Some would tell me not to be so picky. Life, especially at the moment, after Mr.King's latest depressing outlook, isn't going to be full of apples and the likelihood that you, (yes, you, you 19 year old lazy arse), are going to pick a healthy apple off the job tree is as likely as Ms.Gabor re-growing her leg.
Ok, maybe not. Of course it is POSSIBLE, unlike poor old Zsa-Zsa, but the likelihood of it happening is small. Of course, my new adventure begins in 7 months, (yes, the time is going slowly), but in the short-term it only hampers my hopes of getting a stable job. I need to be more greedy. When the time comes, which it will, and I get an interview for some fleeting, career-expanding, junior position in a middle-brand company of some sort, I will find it morally difficult to come up with all the, "interview bullshit", that crops up at every interview in existence. The fact you are looking to, "build a career within this brightly visioned company", and, "looking to progress quickly and efficiently", I just couldn't do it without cracking up. Knowing I would be handing my notice in after 6 months. It does seem morally incorrect. This is where greed needs to be apparent.
Which is why I am being very hopeful indeed of finding a contract position. A 6-month contract, where I know, and the company knows, that I will leave after 6 months. In today's climate though, it really is impossible. I am being incredibly optimistic in finding a job like this. Too hopeful and this will be my downfall, unless I can become more greedy and ignore the feeling of ripping the company off. You're all thinking, "who cares?!", but I would not be able to put myself forward in the sufficient job-gaining light, without showing some sort of knowledge of what I am doing.
And no, for the Nine-Hundred and Ninety-Seventh time, I do not know what my brain is thinking either.
And that is the dilemma. Others, with less knowledge of what it really is like trying to find a job in times like this. Others who reckon I could easily get 3 jobs and play 'Ip Dip Dog S***' with them. They don't understand. And of course, I threw away a perfectly reasonable job, but it ruined me. And let's face it, I can't be ruined much more without physically disappearing.
So, I will muster on through the muddy existence of the job hunt and hypothetically fight with invisible people on The Internet for the chance to even get recognised. For your records, I have applied for 23 jobs since I quit, and I haven't even had a reply from 1 of them. Brutal.
Tuesday 25 January 2011
A Man's Game?
Apologies for no blog in the past couple of days. Despite the days being long and fruitless, I haven't really found the inspiration to write in here after the furore of Sunday night's surreal events, (of which I did originally blog about, but subsequently deleted). Ask if you're wondering what the hell I'm talking about!
Most people were happy for me. Most of them seemed to think it was an act of real courage to ask for help, in such a public way, but that never really entered my mind when I did it.. Well, ok, it did a bit, but it wasn't the main reason I did what I did. A long way off, in fact. It let me tell the people I trust what was happening, through someone else, and I think there are a couple more friends I am closer to now because of it. I think the feelings were returned aswell, when a couple of people told me their feelings. I trust good friendships more than anything else.
A couple of people thought what I did was insensitive or humiliating. To those people, I say, you clearly don't know what is happening in my head, and seemingly will never understand it, so don't bother trying to help in future. I have others who are more willing to understand.
Those events have helped me to realise that I don't need to follow the social norm of telling certain people certain things. I will tell who I want, when I want and there is nothing wrong with that. After Sunday night, despite the people who thought they knew better, I am very happy with what happened and my thoughts after it.
With that out of the way, I shall move on to another subject. The title subject.
Most of you, whether you avidly follow football or not, will have heard the sexism story of a couple of ill-mannered pundits recently. Today, Andy Gray got sacked because of it and it has sparked a debate or 3 over whether it was right or not.
For those of you that don't know, Andy Gray and his colleague Richard Keys were punished for sexist comments against a female referee on Saturday. "Someone should go and tell her the offside rule" and, "Women don't know the offside rule", being a couple of comments said. Personally, I think it's ridiculous that these couple of idiots still live in a prehistoric age where they think women should remain in the kitchen. The world has moved on.
I have worked with a female official before. She's not as high-profile as the assistant at Anfield on Saturday, but none the less, I have and I have to admit, she was excellent. The men's match she was officiating on, with me on the line, was a tough match and she handled it spectacularly. She is a good referee, as is the unfortunate Assistant Referee who these comments were aimed at. My thinking is, "If they are good enough, then why not!"
Most of my male friends think differently however. Unfortunately, most of my male friends think that men don't officiate women's football so why should it be different the other way round. These friends of mine are highly mis-informed, because a lot of men officiate in women's football. I have seen it myself. I have myself, officiated in a woman's match. I honestly think the attitude of some men is disgraceful.
Despite this, the attitudes will be the same for another 20-30 years before we see a real change.
Back to yours truly. I have had an OK week. I went to CC's for an ... interesting Chicken Tikka Masalla pizza and a chat and an awful attempt at trying to keep up with the contestants on A Question of Sport yesterday, before driving home. I think telling you the events that happened on my way home should stay private. Again, ask if you're interested. It is an interesting story! Today has been largely uneventful, with a £20 purchase of fuel being about as interesting as it gets. Tomorrow, I am picking Kettle up from MK, with the promise of a couple of cookies in return, before 5-a-side in the evening, where I will die from exhaustion and probably see the return of the, 'Sore Shoulder and Dizzy Head' syndrome. On Thursday, I am refereeing in the NSYL in the evening, earning a very useful £23, before the magical heights of the weekend!
Yes, I am once again off to Manchester, as you well know, and I am, as usual, very excited. A few more people are coming this time, and despite my horrible lack of money, (well, I have a fair bit but am trying not to spend it***), I am determined to enjoy what will be a fabulous weekend! No operations please!!!
So, there's my week planned out. I may write again before Friday, if anything interesting happens... Which it won't. Until then..
Ciao! x
*** I say I am trying not to spend the money, but I have just got back from the shops with 2 bars of medium sized dairy milk and a couple of £2 scratchcards that ultimately didn't win. Sometimes, you just have to give in to temptation!
Most people were happy for me. Most of them seemed to think it was an act of real courage to ask for help, in such a public way, but that never really entered my mind when I did it.. Well, ok, it did a bit, but it wasn't the main reason I did what I did. A long way off, in fact. It let me tell the people I trust what was happening, through someone else, and I think there are a couple more friends I am closer to now because of it. I think the feelings were returned aswell, when a couple of people told me their feelings. I trust good friendships more than anything else.
A couple of people thought what I did was insensitive or humiliating. To those people, I say, you clearly don't know what is happening in my head, and seemingly will never understand it, so don't bother trying to help in future. I have others who are more willing to understand.
Those events have helped me to realise that I don't need to follow the social norm of telling certain people certain things. I will tell who I want, when I want and there is nothing wrong with that. After Sunday night, despite the people who thought they knew better, I am very happy with what happened and my thoughts after it.
With that out of the way, I shall move on to another subject. The title subject.
Most of you, whether you avidly follow football or not, will have heard the sexism story of a couple of ill-mannered pundits recently. Today, Andy Gray got sacked because of it and it has sparked a debate or 3 over whether it was right or not.
For those of you that don't know, Andy Gray and his colleague Richard Keys were punished for sexist comments against a female referee on Saturday. "Someone should go and tell her the offside rule" and, "Women don't know the offside rule", being a couple of comments said. Personally, I think it's ridiculous that these couple of idiots still live in a prehistoric age where they think women should remain in the kitchen. The world has moved on.
I have worked with a female official before. She's not as high-profile as the assistant at Anfield on Saturday, but none the less, I have and I have to admit, she was excellent. The men's match she was officiating on, with me on the line, was a tough match and she handled it spectacularly. She is a good referee, as is the unfortunate Assistant Referee who these comments were aimed at. My thinking is, "If they are good enough, then why not!"
Most of my male friends think differently however. Unfortunately, most of my male friends think that men don't officiate women's football so why should it be different the other way round. These friends of mine are highly mis-informed, because a lot of men officiate in women's football. I have seen it myself. I have myself, officiated in a woman's match. I honestly think the attitude of some men is disgraceful.
Despite this, the attitudes will be the same for another 20-30 years before we see a real change.
Back to yours truly. I have had an OK week. I went to CC's for an ... interesting Chicken Tikka Masalla pizza and a chat and an awful attempt at trying to keep up with the contestants on A Question of Sport yesterday, before driving home. I think telling you the events that happened on my way home should stay private. Again, ask if you're interested. It is an interesting story! Today has been largely uneventful, with a £20 purchase of fuel being about as interesting as it gets. Tomorrow, I am picking Kettle up from MK, with the promise of a couple of cookies in return, before 5-a-side in the evening, where I will die from exhaustion and probably see the return of the, 'Sore Shoulder and Dizzy Head' syndrome. On Thursday, I am refereeing in the NSYL in the evening, earning a very useful £23, before the magical heights of the weekend!
Yes, I am once again off to Manchester, as you well know, and I am, as usual, very excited. A few more people are coming this time, and despite my horrible lack of money, (well, I have a fair bit but am trying not to spend it***), I am determined to enjoy what will be a fabulous weekend! No operations please!!!
So, there's my week planned out. I may write again before Friday, if anything interesting happens... Which it won't. Until then..
Ciao! x
*** I say I am trying not to spend the money, but I have just got back from the shops with 2 bars of medium sized dairy milk and a couple of £2 scratchcards that ultimately didn't win. Sometimes, you just have to give in to temptation!
Sunday 23 January 2011
Annihalation
This morning wasn't too good on the eye. You could tell we weren't going to get a result even before we had started.
10.30am is the usual kick off time for every Sunday morning league game. So, I don't know why at 10.40am, we had 7 players, 1 of which had tonsilitis, 1 who had been beaten up the night before and one who was still injured from last week, limping around on one leg and playing because there was no one else. We were waiting on people who had driven back from Reading, and they turned up 15 minutes after the proposed kick off time, still in casual party wear, and 20 minutes after we were meant to start, we started.
It wasn't so bad. It wasn't an annihalation, as the title suggests it was, but we were away to top of the league, with 6 players still drunk, one severely ill, one severely maimed and an injured bloke. I was kept busy, and made a couple of useful saves plus punched a cross clear via an opposition's forehead. It was accidental! Maybe...
As soon as they went 1-0 up though, after about half an hour, there was rarely any sign of looking like we were going to get back into it.. The goal itself was a mixture of poor defending and clinical finishing. The same formula that proved to get most of their goals.
We were 2-0 down by half time and although we perked up in the 2nd half, we still lost 5-2. It could of been much worse. I didn't have a bad game, despite the scoreline. We can't expect to win these games if players go off on a booze-cruise of the country the night before.
I'm not that bothered to tell the truth. I was more bothered about my game this afternoon, but it had been called off because of a, "waterlogged pitch". Rubbish. It hasn't rained that much! It's ruined my afternoon, and a whole day of football has turned into a piss poor performance and another day of nothing.
Great.
10.30am is the usual kick off time for every Sunday morning league game. So, I don't know why at 10.40am, we had 7 players, 1 of which had tonsilitis, 1 who had been beaten up the night before and one who was still injured from last week, limping around on one leg and playing because there was no one else. We were waiting on people who had driven back from Reading, and they turned up 15 minutes after the proposed kick off time, still in casual party wear, and 20 minutes after we were meant to start, we started.
It wasn't so bad. It wasn't an annihalation, as the title suggests it was, but we were away to top of the league, with 6 players still drunk, one severely ill, one severely maimed and an injured bloke. I was kept busy, and made a couple of useful saves plus punched a cross clear via an opposition's forehead. It was accidental! Maybe...
As soon as they went 1-0 up though, after about half an hour, there was rarely any sign of looking like we were going to get back into it.. The goal itself was a mixture of poor defending and clinical finishing. The same formula that proved to get most of their goals.
We were 2-0 down by half time and although we perked up in the 2nd half, we still lost 5-2. It could of been much worse. I didn't have a bad game, despite the scoreline. We can't expect to win these games if players go off on a booze-cruise of the country the night before.
I'm not that bothered to tell the truth. I was more bothered about my game this afternoon, but it had been called off because of a, "waterlogged pitch". Rubbish. It hasn't rained that much! It's ruined my afternoon, and a whole day of football has turned into a piss poor performance and another day of nothing.
Great.
Digging A Hole
I am expert at putting my foot in it. Many times, I have accidentally come out with "Classified Information", not intended for anyone else, because I can't help myself. I hate keeping secrets and although I appreciate that the person who has entrusted me with their inner-most thoughts, they must also appreciate it would be incredibly difficult for that person to tell no one...
Maybe, it's me that is wrong this time.
With most of these things, it is probably something I should never have even got involved in. But the human brain has a nack of wanting to be involved and the adrenaline involved with being nosey into someone else's private life, so you can gossip and speculate over what's really happening. Very few people can say that they never want to get involved, but maybe I just want to be involved a little too much... I do appreciate that.
It wasn't even a serious blip I made this evening.. Certainly accidental. Just the person who it was against didn't take the news very well. News travels like wildfire it seems... But it is things like this that triggers the depression in me. I feel like I have lost trust in someone, and therefore their friendship, and during prolonged periods of my life, such as the one I'm going through at the moment, friendship is pretty much the only thing I need.
Without it, I wouldn't exist anymore.
And, despite just not getting involved any further in this secret discussion that you have no idea what it's about, I am compelled to stay awake to make sure I haven't caused more damage than I had anticipated, and seeing as it's already 01:15... I have another tiresome Sunday coming. Last weekend, I managed 2 games on 2 hours sleep remember, so I have longer than that tonight... Big games tomorrow though. 1st vs 2nd. Renhold again. Always the biggest game in the league calendar, always a game played with increased aggression and passion, I need to be on my game, 100%. Following that, an Under-18 game to officiate on. And I have been pre-warned that both teams get stuck in and there has been, "previous history", between the two. Great. My 2nd game back and I get 2 teams who would rather kill each other than score goals...
The only plus side I can take from today is the 3 fun hours I spent watching Hot Fuzz with Ellie and the £80 I won on the EuroMillions. That's next week's trip paid for!!
But, such a large dampener on the day now.. Almost an extinguisher. Good times are overcome by bad, it seems. Story of my adulthood.
Cya x
Maybe, it's me that is wrong this time.
With most of these things, it is probably something I should never have even got involved in. But the human brain has a nack of wanting to be involved and the adrenaline involved with being nosey into someone else's private life, so you can gossip and speculate over what's really happening. Very few people can say that they never want to get involved, but maybe I just want to be involved a little too much... I do appreciate that.
It wasn't even a serious blip I made this evening.. Certainly accidental. Just the person who it was against didn't take the news very well. News travels like wildfire it seems... But it is things like this that triggers the depression in me. I feel like I have lost trust in someone, and therefore their friendship, and during prolonged periods of my life, such as the one I'm going through at the moment, friendship is pretty much the only thing I need.
Without it, I wouldn't exist anymore.
And, despite just not getting involved any further in this secret discussion that you have no idea what it's about, I am compelled to stay awake to make sure I haven't caused more damage than I had anticipated, and seeing as it's already 01:15... I have another tiresome Sunday coming. Last weekend, I managed 2 games on 2 hours sleep remember, so I have longer than that tonight... Big games tomorrow though. 1st vs 2nd. Renhold again. Always the biggest game in the league calendar, always a game played with increased aggression and passion, I need to be on my game, 100%. Following that, an Under-18 game to officiate on. And I have been pre-warned that both teams get stuck in and there has been, "previous history", between the two. Great. My 2nd game back and I get 2 teams who would rather kill each other than score goals...
The only plus side I can take from today is the 3 fun hours I spent watching Hot Fuzz with Ellie and the £80 I won on the EuroMillions. That's next week's trip paid for!!
But, such a large dampener on the day now.. Almost an extinguisher. Good times are overcome by bad, it seems. Story of my adulthood.
Cya x
Thursday 20 January 2011
Burnt To A Crisp
I never like football matches being called off because of a "waterlogged pitch". Why? Because it never really turns out to be waterlogged. Health and safety win, and me, being the liberal, just get on with it, person ... when it comes to football anyway... just thinks we should get on with it. A frozen pitch is slightly different. I used to think the same way until I saw a nasty injury happen because of the ice on a pitch once. I was just a spectator, thank god!
However, this evening has produced a brand new reason for postponing a football match. I just recieved a phone call from the league chairman, stating that tonight's match at Bedford FC has been called off because, and I'm not joking, the pitch is on fire. As are the changing rooms and the clubhouse... and most of the vicinity.
Yep, the football club has burnt down, so, unless a match appears out of nowhere, I am left with an evening of what I've been doing all day. Nothing.
There isn't a lot else to say. I might bloggle about yesterday later, but I've just thought... I'm going to go and check out the fire!!
Laters x
..........
I'll just add to this post, seeing as it was a tiny one. The current time is ... 22:56, I'm about to go to sleep, at a reasonable time for a record 3 days running, and I am going to reflect on the day I have just experienced.
... Erm...
The most eventful thing that happened, (apart from the fire, obviously), was my 2nd trip to Tesco's in which I saw an old man shout at a schoolboy for being so small.
"Get out of my way you tiny little cretin!"
I'm not kidding either, it was quite funny to watch the 10-year old school child, get out his pet knife and threaten the O.A.P with death if he didn't apologise. I joke...
Otherwise, I'm amazed the day has gone as fast as it has, despite it being as slow as one of BP's night shifts. Part of me is missing that place already...
And of course, the whole 2nd half of this post has been a joke, so that last sentence was aswell!
Ciao x
However, this evening has produced a brand new reason for postponing a football match. I just recieved a phone call from the league chairman, stating that tonight's match at Bedford FC has been called off because, and I'm not joking, the pitch is on fire. As are the changing rooms and the clubhouse... and most of the vicinity.
Yep, the football club has burnt down, so, unless a match appears out of nowhere, I am left with an evening of what I've been doing all day. Nothing.
There isn't a lot else to say. I might bloggle about yesterday later, but I've just thought... I'm going to go and check out the fire!!
Laters x
..........
I'll just add to this post, seeing as it was a tiny one. The current time is ... 22:56, I'm about to go to sleep, at a reasonable time for a record 3 days running, and I am going to reflect on the day I have just experienced.
... Erm...
The most eventful thing that happened, (apart from the fire, obviously), was my 2nd trip to Tesco's in which I saw an old man shout at a schoolboy for being so small.
"Get out of my way you tiny little cretin!"
I'm not kidding either, it was quite funny to watch the 10-year old school child, get out his pet knife and threaten the O.A.P with death if he didn't apologise. I joke...
Otherwise, I'm amazed the day has gone as fast as it has, despite it being as slow as one of BP's night shifts. Part of me is missing that place already...
And of course, the whole 2nd half of this post has been a joke, so that last sentence was aswell!
Ciao x
Tuesday 18 January 2011
A Day of Pure Nothing
After enduring the end of another era yesterday, I needed a big sleep. Just to bridge a gap between the bad times and the new bad times, and I did. I slept 10 hours, woke up for a few hours before realising there was nothing to be awake for, and went back to sleep. Yep, pure 100% laziness.
The end result? I ended up being awake at 3.30am, an hour which I am used to being awake at, but not at home with nothing to do. And I'm afraid that is going to be the story of my day. It is currently 6:47am, and I have run out of things to do. I have literally nothing. I'm listening to the same music playlist over and over and over again, I have been for the past few hours, in between a bit of scarce Dr.Who DVD watching and checking my 1 e-mail.
"We have new vacancies!", it said.
Just a shame these vacancies are for people with experience. Offering salaries at £50k+ with benefits and a company car. If only. I can't really see the point in looking for a job. It sounds childish and insolent, but there are 2 options in this job hunt. Get a full-time office job, being bored witless for 8 hours, 5 days a week, or get a part-time office job and be bored witless for 8 hours, 3 days a week. I have applied for a couple of the latter, but I don't see the point in sitting there for 40 hours a week, just so I can say I'm respectable. I can live without a job, it will just be incredibly dull, but I'd rather that at the moment, than be somewhere where I just want to go home.
And if you're thinking, "Don't get an office job then", just think about what you're saying.
I don't really like the attitude of everyone either. I don't mean it in a cruel or crude way, but the family especially, in the brief time I saw them yesterday, mentioned the word, "unemployed", at least once a minute. They're pointing out the obvious, quite frankly, and trying to get me out the house so I don't annoy them much. It's how it is, I suppose.
Not as if I have a week of pure nothingness. I look forward to the first indoor cricket net session tomorrow evening, I'm refereeing on Thursday evening, if the weather doesn't be a Brazilian or an Australian and on Sunday, I have my usual quota of football plus a possible fixture to officiate on in the afternoon. So it's not a week of nothing, just today...
It's going to be rather long.
Ciao x
The end result? I ended up being awake at 3.30am, an hour which I am used to being awake at, but not at home with nothing to do. And I'm afraid that is going to be the story of my day. It is currently 6:47am, and I have run out of things to do. I have literally nothing. I'm listening to the same music playlist over and over and over again, I have been for the past few hours, in between a bit of scarce Dr.Who DVD watching and checking my 1 e-mail.
"We have new vacancies!", it said.
Just a shame these vacancies are for people with experience. Offering salaries at £50k+ with benefits and a company car. If only. I can't really see the point in looking for a job. It sounds childish and insolent, but there are 2 options in this job hunt. Get a full-time office job, being bored witless for 8 hours, 5 days a week, or get a part-time office job and be bored witless for 8 hours, 3 days a week. I have applied for a couple of the latter, but I don't see the point in sitting there for 40 hours a week, just so I can say I'm respectable. I can live without a job, it will just be incredibly dull, but I'd rather that at the moment, than be somewhere where I just want to go home.
And if you're thinking, "Don't get an office job then", just think about what you're saying.
I don't really like the attitude of everyone either. I don't mean it in a cruel or crude way, but the family especially, in the brief time I saw them yesterday, mentioned the word, "unemployed", at least once a minute. They're pointing out the obvious, quite frankly, and trying to get me out the house so I don't annoy them much. It's how it is, I suppose.
Not as if I have a week of pure nothingness. I look forward to the first indoor cricket net session tomorrow evening, I'm refereeing on Thursday evening, if the weather doesn't be a Brazilian or an Australian and on Sunday, I have my usual quota of football plus a possible fixture to officiate on in the afternoon. So it's not a week of nothing, just today...
It's going to be rather long.
Ciao x
Monday 17 January 2011
That, As They Say, Is That
That was probably the most anti-climatic end to a job I have ever had. Admittedly, I have only ever had 1 other job and that climax was worthy of a primetime slot on BBC4, but none the less. Nothing happened.
No, I wasn't expecting fireworks and a dancing monkey waving me out the door, but part of me was thinking the team might have got me a card or something. I suppose I wasn't there long enough! I'm not bothered really, it was just a very strange feeling walking out of the door for the last time as an employee. I needed some petrol, but refused to buy it from BP as it would of ruined the moment walking back in 2 minutes later! I drove to Tesco's instead! Besides, it is a whole 1p per litre cheaper!
No, I am happy I have finally left that place. I can't work out whether Mitten has defeated BP or BP has defeated Mitten. Probably the latter, but I refuse to think about it anymore. I am back to where I was at the beginning of 2010, and I don't care one jot. This time round, I know I have a certain future ahead of me, even if it is a whole 7-8 months away.
On the plus side, The Wall, a man I will never have to work with ever again, tried to shake my hand and I completely rejected it. I feel that a handshake would mean I had accepted all the problems he had caused during my tenure, and I have done nothing of the sort! As he wambled off into the distance, I shook Legend Alex's hand, because he is a legend after all, and left.
Simple as that.
Now I am back on the market, and despite telling everyone there I had a job at Ladbrokes, I don't. Yep, I lied just to stop them getting on my backs and telling me to stay and so what. I won't see them again, in a work capacity, and I will try and avoid going there at any time of day, ever again. I have mostly bad memories from the place, if I'm to be honest with you.
Before I had to endure my final long shift though, that ended up feeling like a school detention by the end, we had our usual 90 minutes of football this morning. I knew we only had a bare 11 to use this morning, but it turned out a bit worse than that. Of the 11, there were 2 ridiculously tired night shift workers, 5 who were desperately hungover, 2 that were still drunk, 1 who was very ill, (so ill, he threw up on 4 different occasions throughout the match) and 1 who is technically the Assistant Manager.
Yep, we got battered. Battered like a cod in a chip shop. The result? 2-2. Now, I don't wish to brag but if it wasn't for me, it would of been double figures. I pulled off save after breathtaking one-handed save with ease and was very comfortable in claiming difficult crosses that swerved violently in the brisk Sunday morning breeze. Definitely the best game I've had in a long while and that point might turn out to be a league-winner come May.
Come May, I may still be "NEET" and I don't care! I will look for another job, to take me up until the promised days, but someone, please remind me whether it be in 1 year, 5 years or 50 years, to never ever get a night shift job again. Honestly.
I would rather eat The Wall.
In A Bit x
No, I wasn't expecting fireworks and a dancing monkey waving me out the door, but part of me was thinking the team might have got me a card or something. I suppose I wasn't there long enough! I'm not bothered really, it was just a very strange feeling walking out of the door for the last time as an employee. I needed some petrol, but refused to buy it from BP as it would of ruined the moment walking back in 2 minutes later! I drove to Tesco's instead! Besides, it is a whole 1p per litre cheaper!
No, I am happy I have finally left that place. I can't work out whether Mitten has defeated BP or BP has defeated Mitten. Probably the latter, but I refuse to think about it anymore. I am back to where I was at the beginning of 2010, and I don't care one jot. This time round, I know I have a certain future ahead of me, even if it is a whole 7-8 months away.
On the plus side, The Wall, a man I will never have to work with ever again, tried to shake my hand and I completely rejected it. I feel that a handshake would mean I had accepted all the problems he had caused during my tenure, and I have done nothing of the sort! As he wambled off into the distance, I shook Legend Alex's hand, because he is a legend after all, and left.
Simple as that.
Now I am back on the market, and despite telling everyone there I had a job at Ladbrokes, I don't. Yep, I lied just to stop them getting on my backs and telling me to stay and so what. I won't see them again, in a work capacity, and I will try and avoid going there at any time of day, ever again. I have mostly bad memories from the place, if I'm to be honest with you.
Before I had to endure my final long shift though, that ended up feeling like a school detention by the end, we had our usual 90 minutes of football this morning. I knew we only had a bare 11 to use this morning, but it turned out a bit worse than that. Of the 11, there were 2 ridiculously tired night shift workers, 5 who were desperately hungover, 2 that were still drunk, 1 who was very ill, (so ill, he threw up on 4 different occasions throughout the match) and 1 who is technically the Assistant Manager.
Yep, we got battered. Battered like a cod in a chip shop. The result? 2-2. Now, I don't wish to brag but if it wasn't for me, it would of been double figures. I pulled off save after breathtaking one-handed save with ease and was very comfortable in claiming difficult crosses that swerved violently in the brisk Sunday morning breeze. Definitely the best game I've had in a long while and that point might turn out to be a league-winner come May.
Come May, I may still be "NEET" and I don't care! I will look for another job, to take me up until the promised days, but someone, please remind me whether it be in 1 year, 5 years or 50 years, to never ever get a night shift job again. Honestly.
I would rather eat The Wall.
In A Bit x
Sunday 16 January 2011
Don't Go Quietly!
I've always maintained that my place of work, (which it still is...), was full of shit. The management, (well, half of it!), the customers, the hours ... The Walls.. all full of it, but I didn't mean literally. Tonight though, it was!
I feel I must explain. And even if you don't think this deserves an explanation, it doesn't matter, you are getting one. It was about midnight. Just me and The Wall, no 3rd party tonight, and we were inundated with a customer. Yeah, it wasn't that busy, and I was looking forward to a quiet night. I say, "looking forward", I would of preferred if I was playing golf, or going to the pub but.... you know what I mean. Just as I had taken this poor drunken guy's money, short-changed him because I felt like it, I heard a muffled scream from the near corner of the store. No, no one had been kidnapped, but a girl, dressed in party clothes came over and shouted at us. I don't know what, I wasn't listening, but she mentioned that something was wrong with the toilet.
"Probably just blocked", I thought. Not a nice job, but a job none the less, so I grabbed the plunger, shaped like Daffy Duck's head and went to clean up the mess. Only, when I opened the door, it wasn't just mess. The toilet had exploded. And when I say, "exploded", I don't mean, "it had leaked slightly", I mean ... it had EXPLODED. The bottom of it was blown apart and the water, that was trapped in the confinds of the toilet area, had now flown out of the door and flooded half the store. It wasn't the nicest of sights... I won't go into detail on that part.
I knew something like this was going to happen. In the past, whenever I have a week or 10 days of holiday coming up, God would send a bad thing to happen, to challenge me and annoy me before I went for a break and seeing as God has seen that this is my last weekend, he sent the dirtiest challenge of them all. We closed the store, somehow managed to block the gaping hole of the toilet, via a few phone calls to Anglian Water, who didn't seem to think that flowing poo was a "major problem", and began the cleanup operation. There was so much water, I was tempted to ring up the authorities and notify them of a new man-made lake that should be printed on to the next Atlas. 2 and a half hours it took for both of us to clean up the lake to a sufficient standard to open up again. We had locked the doors, but of course, the occasional drunk managed to pull them open, (not difficult to achieve), and saunter into the store before being kicked out by me.
"We're closed for a reason mate!"
It wasn't pretty. It wasn't big on dignity and by the end, I smelt like a tramp who had jumped behind a cow while it was doing it's hourly crap.
And of course, I ended up being majorly behind on all of my tasks, but these days, I couldn't really give a flying shit about that... No pun intended. I had seen a lot of flying shits tonight, and I wasn't prepared to give another one for the sake of, "doing my job properly".
Still, I suppose it made the shift go a bit quicker and I had to put up with less angry, drunken custom because of it. And after I had completed my final ever instalment of Mitten vs Weekend Papers, I clambered into my car, holding my triple espresso, and laughed. So many of these cases have happened to me in the past 9 months, that I really am not surprised that this place didn't let me go without another ridiculous episode.
Just a shame it didn't smell of roses.
I can't be bothered with football this morning either. As usual after a night's work, I suppose I may be up for it when we finally get going, but I am bloody knackered. Just one more shift before I have my weekends free and am not awake at ridiculous o'clock.
No, wait, this time next week, of course I'll be awake at 4am.. Just not at work. I'll be on here, blogging about how much I need a job and how undignified I've become. Oh well.
I'll speak to you all this time tomorrow morning!
Ciao x
I feel I must explain. And even if you don't think this deserves an explanation, it doesn't matter, you are getting one. It was about midnight. Just me and The Wall, no 3rd party tonight, and we were inundated with a customer. Yeah, it wasn't that busy, and I was looking forward to a quiet night. I say, "looking forward", I would of preferred if I was playing golf, or going to the pub but.... you know what I mean. Just as I had taken this poor drunken guy's money, short-changed him because I felt like it, I heard a muffled scream from the near corner of the store. No, no one had been kidnapped, but a girl, dressed in party clothes came over and shouted at us. I don't know what, I wasn't listening, but she mentioned that something was wrong with the toilet.
"Probably just blocked", I thought. Not a nice job, but a job none the less, so I grabbed the plunger, shaped like Daffy Duck's head and went to clean up the mess. Only, when I opened the door, it wasn't just mess. The toilet had exploded. And when I say, "exploded", I don't mean, "it had leaked slightly", I mean ... it had EXPLODED. The bottom of it was blown apart and the water, that was trapped in the confinds of the toilet area, had now flown out of the door and flooded half the store. It wasn't the nicest of sights... I won't go into detail on that part.
I knew something like this was going to happen. In the past, whenever I have a week or 10 days of holiday coming up, God would send a bad thing to happen, to challenge me and annoy me before I went for a break and seeing as God has seen that this is my last weekend, he sent the dirtiest challenge of them all. We closed the store, somehow managed to block the gaping hole of the toilet, via a few phone calls to Anglian Water, who didn't seem to think that flowing poo was a "major problem", and began the cleanup operation. There was so much water, I was tempted to ring up the authorities and notify them of a new man-made lake that should be printed on to the next Atlas. 2 and a half hours it took for both of us to clean up the lake to a sufficient standard to open up again. We had locked the doors, but of course, the occasional drunk managed to pull them open, (not difficult to achieve), and saunter into the store before being kicked out by me.
"We're closed for a reason mate!"
It wasn't pretty. It wasn't big on dignity and by the end, I smelt like a tramp who had jumped behind a cow while it was doing it's hourly crap.
And of course, I ended up being majorly behind on all of my tasks, but these days, I couldn't really give a flying shit about that... No pun intended. I had seen a lot of flying shits tonight, and I wasn't prepared to give another one for the sake of, "doing my job properly".
Still, I suppose it made the shift go a bit quicker and I had to put up with less angry, drunken custom because of it. And after I had completed my final ever instalment of Mitten vs Weekend Papers, I clambered into my car, holding my triple espresso, and laughed. So many of these cases have happened to me in the past 9 months, that I really am not surprised that this place didn't let me go without another ridiculous episode.
Just a shame it didn't smell of roses.
I can't be bothered with football this morning either. As usual after a night's work, I suppose I may be up for it when we finally get going, but I am bloody knackered. Just one more shift before I have my weekends free and am not awake at ridiculous o'clock.
No, wait, this time next week, of course I'll be awake at 4am.. Just not at work. I'll be on here, blogging about how much I need a job and how undignified I've become. Oh well.
I'll speak to you all this time tomorrow morning!
Ciao x
Friday 14 January 2011
You Have Chosen ... Arcade Mode!
I wanted to do something this evening, and I had three choices. I could of gone to Dunstable to just chill with a friend. I WAS going to play snooker with Father Mitten until he bailed at the last moment like an afraid parachutist after he sees the height at which he has to jump. In the end, I was left with going on another excursion to the "magical" garden city of Letchworth. It's only "claim to fame", was the fact that it had the first ever roundabout. I think... It seems a bit far fetched, but it IS the world's first "garden city". Whatever.
Whenever we go to Letchworth, we wander around in the darkness for a bit before deciding on going to the same old pub as usual and this time was no different. We wasted some well-earned money on the quiz machine ... Won some of it back ... and put it back in again, before we were penniless, downed our drinks, and left. Mine was an orange juice. No, I didn't down a double Jack Daniels and Coke. We made our way outside and decided to make a shortcut through the arcade because of the wintery weather that was bestowed upon us, but when we got to the other end, found that it was closed... Great. We walked back, and planned on walking through the rain, round the arcade to where the car was parked but ... err... it was closed aswell. Yep! We were stuck in the arcade, and before we worked out what to do, I was hurriedly searching for a comfy spot to kip for the night! We managed to get the number of the caretaker person though and he, rather angrily, with a huff and a puff and a groan, let us out. Phew. Panic over.
We drove back, with Beans high on Subway and mini eggs, and drove around quiet Bedford for a while. It's cool to just sometimes drive around, listening to classic tunes and just chill. Ok, we nearly crashed while trying to overtake someone on the dual-carriageway, but otherwise, it was great!
I got home at about 11.30, destined for another long night, but it hasn't been too bad. My boredom reached new levels. So much so, I went on Omegle and chatted to some stranger from New York City and claimed I was a 25-year old freelance journalist who rode motorbikes. Why not? I could be a 17-year old C.E.O if I wanted to.
However, just now, I decided I would do what I said I wouldn't do for a while. Have a little browse of t'internet and look for a job. I wasn't expecting much, but almost fell across some job situated in Luton. It's your basic office job, but the tasks were things I had done before, so could claim I had experience and it's a 6-month contract job. Perfect timing for university. It would mean I would have to get up deathly early, but I get an early finish on a Friday and a completely free weekend for the upcoming cricket season. The job itself sounds rather boring, but I'm sure even my weak mind can put up with it for 6 months.
I won't hear a reply back, but the conditions of the job are exactly what I would want if I am to find work again. I wouldn't have to look like a moron after 8 months and leave despite, "seeing this as a stepping stone to a potential career" and all that bollocks. I would work for 6 months, and leave. Exactly what I want and exactly what they expect.
The days work would start at 8.30am. And it's in Luton. Yeah, I don't see myself waking up at 6.30am every day either, but I think, despite feeling like death every morning, a healthy drive in mostly Summer months, listening to Chris Moyles and a few coffees inside me would do me the world of good. I reckon a few nights with no sleep are coming up at University, so would help getting started earlier!
I have no idea why I'm speculating about what would be the ups and downs of this job, because the odds of getting a reply are about 1 in a thousand. Almost literally. Companies look for experience, and young people can't get the needed experience because of it. The circle of employment for the youth.
Still, if I am going to get back into work, I suppose this would be the ideal solution. But as we know children, nothing is ideal in this world at the moment.
Especially my world.
Bye x
Whenever we go to Letchworth, we wander around in the darkness for a bit before deciding on going to the same old pub as usual and this time was no different. We wasted some well-earned money on the quiz machine ... Won some of it back ... and put it back in again, before we were penniless, downed our drinks, and left. Mine was an orange juice. No, I didn't down a double Jack Daniels and Coke. We made our way outside and decided to make a shortcut through the arcade because of the wintery weather that was bestowed upon us, but when we got to the other end, found that it was closed... Great. We walked back, and planned on walking through the rain, round the arcade to where the car was parked but ... err... it was closed aswell. Yep! We were stuck in the arcade, and before we worked out what to do, I was hurriedly searching for a comfy spot to kip for the night! We managed to get the number of the caretaker person though and he, rather angrily, with a huff and a puff and a groan, let us out. Phew. Panic over.
We drove back, with Beans high on Subway and mini eggs, and drove around quiet Bedford for a while. It's cool to just sometimes drive around, listening to classic tunes and just chill. Ok, we nearly crashed while trying to overtake someone on the dual-carriageway, but otherwise, it was great!
I got home at about 11.30, destined for another long night, but it hasn't been too bad. My boredom reached new levels. So much so, I went on Omegle and chatted to some stranger from New York City and claimed I was a 25-year old freelance journalist who rode motorbikes. Why not? I could be a 17-year old C.E.O if I wanted to.
However, just now, I decided I would do what I said I wouldn't do for a while. Have a little browse of t'internet and look for a job. I wasn't expecting much, but almost fell across some job situated in Luton. It's your basic office job, but the tasks were things I had done before, so could claim I had experience and it's a 6-month contract job. Perfect timing for university. It would mean I would have to get up deathly early, but I get an early finish on a Friday and a completely free weekend for the upcoming cricket season. The job itself sounds rather boring, but I'm sure even my weak mind can put up with it for 6 months.
I won't hear a reply back, but the conditions of the job are exactly what I would want if I am to find work again. I wouldn't have to look like a moron after 8 months and leave despite, "seeing this as a stepping stone to a potential career" and all that bollocks. I would work for 6 months, and leave. Exactly what I want and exactly what they expect.
The days work would start at 8.30am. And it's in Luton. Yeah, I don't see myself waking up at 6.30am every day either, but I think, despite feeling like death every morning, a healthy drive in mostly Summer months, listening to Chris Moyles and a few coffees inside me would do me the world of good. I reckon a few nights with no sleep are coming up at University, so would help getting started earlier!
I have no idea why I'm speculating about what would be the ups and downs of this job, because the odds of getting a reply are about 1 in a thousand. Almost literally. Companies look for experience, and young people can't get the needed experience because of it. The circle of employment for the youth.
Still, if I am going to get back into work, I suppose this would be the ideal solution. But as we know children, nothing is ideal in this world at the moment.
Especially my world.
Bye x
Thursday 13 January 2011
Max Volume
At the moment, I sit in my room, happy with what the day has brought even if it is nothing but sleep, 5-a-side and dossing. It is the realisation of what will be the life until things get better. My excitement about university is off the scale, yet it's literally about 8 months away. I cannot imagine what I will be like when the time comes.
I am going to Brighton next Wednesday, to check out the facilities, the accomodation and what the all important course will offer, (Yes, I am going for the degree!) I have already had an experience of the night life, having been there last Summer and if it's like that all the time, then there are some seriously big nights heading my way, hopefully with a lot of new friends, in my new life. I didn't make the most of it in the Summer, because of things, but I can feel this is going to be different.
It's strange. I will feel a lot of different emotions heading up to it, even if it is a long time away yet. Yes, I know I sound stupid. Why am I excited if it's more than half a year away? The reason? I have nothing else to look forward to. I can see the change of life I've dreamt about for years, just on the horizon. And for the first time in a long time with anything, I feel properly excited about it. The independance, the meeting new people, the parties, even the bits in between when I can, "come home from uni" like the rest of my friends and not be the person waiting. Just the whole thing.
I can imagine myself being terribly nervous when the time comes. I will panic about being homesick and being on my own and the possibility of not making new friends and being as alone as I am now, sitting here with my headphones turned up to the max. But it will be good. It HAS to be good. If it isn't, there is nothing else. Nothing.
But it will be.
Back to reality, where reality happens and not dreams, today has been... good. I awoke at stupid o'clock again, but I need to get back to the night shift pattern for my upcoming last weekend. I'm not sure what I'll feel come Monday morning. Mostly relief probably, but I will miss the feeling of being respectable. Went to play 5-a-side tonight, in which my true unfit self was revealed. I was struggling big time and really ran out of puff for the last 15 minutes. It is all the comfort eating I have been doing over the last year or so. But as Goulding pointed out this week, "my metabolism is just... insane!"
I was intending to go out to town tonight but I really wasn't feeling it when I came in. A few reasons. 1) I was knackered from football ... 2) I don't REALLY have the money to go out getting pissed. It is something I am going to have to get used to. And 3) I'm not so sure I would have enjoyed it. The people I was going out with have a ... unique... sense of humour, and despite being fantastic people, I do feel a bit quiet around their nonsense and completely insane remarks. It's certainly not a bad thing, and none of the reasons on their own are good enough reasons to reject a night out, but all together, it made sense!
Inevitably, because of my sensibleness, I have had to endure another night of desperate boredom and trying to create controversy without upsetting people too much. One conversation comes to mind... Despite this, they all seem to go to bed at a relatively normal time, leaving me with my own thoughts, (which haven't been so bad this week). I've been watching some comical videos involving the Carr brothers, (no relation to myself) and just random things. Trying to pass the time.
It's 02:12, and I'm starting to feel a little bit weary... Is that so?
No.
Have fun x
I am going to Brighton next Wednesday, to check out the facilities, the accomodation and what the all important course will offer, (Yes, I am going for the degree!) I have already had an experience of the night life, having been there last Summer and if it's like that all the time, then there are some seriously big nights heading my way, hopefully with a lot of new friends, in my new life. I didn't make the most of it in the Summer, because of things, but I can feel this is going to be different.
It's strange. I will feel a lot of different emotions heading up to it, even if it is a long time away yet. Yes, I know I sound stupid. Why am I excited if it's more than half a year away? The reason? I have nothing else to look forward to. I can see the change of life I've dreamt about for years, just on the horizon. And for the first time in a long time with anything, I feel properly excited about it. The independance, the meeting new people, the parties, even the bits in between when I can, "come home from uni" like the rest of my friends and not be the person waiting. Just the whole thing.
I can imagine myself being terribly nervous when the time comes. I will panic about being homesick and being on my own and the possibility of not making new friends and being as alone as I am now, sitting here with my headphones turned up to the max. But it will be good. It HAS to be good. If it isn't, there is nothing else. Nothing.
But it will be.
Back to reality, where reality happens and not dreams, today has been... good. I awoke at stupid o'clock again, but I need to get back to the night shift pattern for my upcoming last weekend. I'm not sure what I'll feel come Monday morning. Mostly relief probably, but I will miss the feeling of being respectable. Went to play 5-a-side tonight, in which my true unfit self was revealed. I was struggling big time and really ran out of puff for the last 15 minutes. It is all the comfort eating I have been doing over the last year or so. But as Goulding pointed out this week, "my metabolism is just... insane!"
I was intending to go out to town tonight but I really wasn't feeling it when I came in. A few reasons. 1) I was knackered from football ... 2) I don't REALLY have the money to go out getting pissed. It is something I am going to have to get used to. And 3) I'm not so sure I would have enjoyed it. The people I was going out with have a ... unique... sense of humour, and despite being fantastic people, I do feel a bit quiet around their nonsense and completely insane remarks. It's certainly not a bad thing, and none of the reasons on their own are good enough reasons to reject a night out, but all together, it made sense!
Inevitably, because of my sensibleness, I have had to endure another night of desperate boredom and trying to create controversy without upsetting people too much. One conversation comes to mind... Despite this, they all seem to go to bed at a relatively normal time, leaving me with my own thoughts, (which haven't been so bad this week). I've been watching some comical videos involving the Carr brothers, (no relation to myself) and just random things. Trying to pass the time.
It's 02:12, and I'm starting to feel a little bit weary... Is that so?
No.
Have fun x
Tuesday 11 January 2011
Kill Me Now, (Or Maybe In a Few Months?)
For some reason, I decided to go through my blog and see whether I had titled all of my blogs with every letter from the alphabet. Apart from the wierd ones, (Q, X and Z), the only letter I have not used, is K!
Up until now...
Yep. You guessed it. Boredom has ensued and I haven't even officially left work yet. I suppose these are what days will be filled with, but luckily, I have a fair few unwatched DVD's to go through before true boredom sets in. A couple of series of Doctor Who, 2 series of Skins, (the good ones, not the wierd ones where everything becomes a bit nonsensical), Inception, Batman Begins, hopefully come the end of February, the extended highlights package of the 2010 Ashes and 2 series of newly-bought, Misfits.
Obviously, my title has a specific meaning to it. I would like to use these next couple of months to spend all of my money, then be dead up until the beginning of the cricket season, then live throughout the cricket season up until the beginning of my university life. For that, I would need the power of immortality from Nathan in Misfits. What a programme that is...
But, seeing as this is reality, there is no such thing and I will have to live, for the next few months at least, knowing that my days will be full of boredom and watching DVD after DVD. I scream, "NEET".
Even the rents, especially Mother Mitten, have started badgering me into looking for another job, making sure I do by checking what I'm doing every hour of the day. Almost...
As you can tell, I'm blabbering. There is, and will be, nothing to complain about in these blogs. No Wall to scream at hypothetically, no complaining about working at nights, no complaining about The Goddess of all Evil or Bastard Chris anymore. It's for the best.
Cya x
Up until now...
Yep. You guessed it. Boredom has ensued and I haven't even officially left work yet. I suppose these are what days will be filled with, but luckily, I have a fair few unwatched DVD's to go through before true boredom sets in. A couple of series of Doctor Who, 2 series of Skins, (the good ones, not the wierd ones where everything becomes a bit nonsensical), Inception, Batman Begins, hopefully come the end of February, the extended highlights package of the 2010 Ashes and 2 series of newly-bought, Misfits.
Obviously, my title has a specific meaning to it. I would like to use these next couple of months to spend all of my money, then be dead up until the beginning of the cricket season, then live throughout the cricket season up until the beginning of my university life. For that, I would need the power of immortality from Nathan in Misfits. What a programme that is...
But, seeing as this is reality, there is no such thing and I will have to live, for the next few months at least, knowing that my days will be full of boredom and watching DVD after DVD. I scream, "NEET".
Even the rents, especially Mother Mitten, have started badgering me into looking for another job, making sure I do by checking what I'm doing every hour of the day. Almost...
As you can tell, I'm blabbering. There is, and will be, nothing to complain about in these blogs. No Wall to scream at hypothetically, no complaining about working at nights, no complaining about The Goddess of all Evil or Bastard Chris anymore. It's for the best.
Cya x
Sunday 9 January 2011
Jubulani
After last nights catastrophic disaster, my optimism for the days football had subsided slightly. I did manage to get to sleep, albeit at 7.30am, and I was awake a whole hour and a half later to embark on the 1st journey. How can a man who has spent all week being so lazy, be so active after that amount of sleep? I am a unique human being...
Red Bull in hand, I drove to Jubilee Park. We were playing a team called Salento United, who are a mid-table-ish sort of team, so not to be taken lightly. I don't care about that though, I was more concerned with the match ball. For those of you familiar with everything to do with the World Cup 2010, you will know about the infamous Jubulani Ball. Famous for not staying in a straight line, it is nion impossible to cleanly catch because it wobbles as much as Rik Waller on a cobbled street. I found this out about 5 minutes in, as a shot whistled towards me from an insane distance and I nearly made a Rob Green-esque clanger but managed to keep it out. For most of the match, (before the ball was conveniently kicked off so far away, it was irretrievable), I had to contend with a swerving ball. Was a nightmare. But I did well none the less, we won 5-2, (both of their goals were from rebounds!), and 3 points is 3 points. Unless it's 2 points, then it's definitely 2 points... Our league is strange.
So, Part 1 successfully negotiatied without feeling too tired. Part 2 was the part which I was a little more nervous about. My first middle in 9 months, but when I turned up, it all just flooded back. The match itself was as well-contested as it was well mannered, finishing 1-1, and I was pleased with my overall performance. Onwards and upwards! 2 parts out of 2, successfully negotiated! A good days work!
But now? I am truly shattered. No, I am not 5 years old or 95 years old and yes, it's only 5:40pm, but I'm going to bed in a bit. I may well end up waking up at 6am tomorrow, but at least I'll be back into a normal sleeping pattern and even if I do have an infamous 15-hour sleep, it will still only be 9am.. All is well then.
Not a lot more to say, apart from Goodnight!
Goodnight!
(Definitely is this time!) x
Red Bull in hand, I drove to Jubilee Park. We were playing a team called Salento United, who are a mid-table-ish sort of team, so not to be taken lightly. I don't care about that though, I was more concerned with the match ball. For those of you familiar with everything to do with the World Cup 2010, you will know about the infamous Jubulani Ball. Famous for not staying in a straight line, it is nion impossible to cleanly catch because it wobbles as much as Rik Waller on a cobbled street. I found this out about 5 minutes in, as a shot whistled towards me from an insane distance and I nearly made a Rob Green-esque clanger but managed to keep it out. For most of the match, (before the ball was conveniently kicked off so far away, it was irretrievable), I had to contend with a swerving ball. Was a nightmare. But I did well none the less, we won 5-2, (both of their goals were from rebounds!), and 3 points is 3 points. Unless it's 2 points, then it's definitely 2 points... Our league is strange.
So, Part 1 successfully negotiatied without feeling too tired. Part 2 was the part which I was a little more nervous about. My first middle in 9 months, but when I turned up, it all just flooded back. The match itself was as well-contested as it was well mannered, finishing 1-1, and I was pleased with my overall performance. Onwards and upwards! 2 parts out of 2, successfully negotiated! A good days work!
But now? I am truly shattered. No, I am not 5 years old or 95 years old and yes, it's only 5:40pm, but I'm going to bed in a bit. I may well end up waking up at 6am tomorrow, but at least I'll be back into a normal sleeping pattern and even if I do have an infamous 15-hour sleep, it will still only be 9am.. All is well then.
Not a lot more to say, apart from Goodnight!
Goodnight!
(Definitely is this time!) x
The Vicious Circle Of Laziness
I should have gone to the pub earlier. I'll tell you the reasons why. Despite telling myself that I wouldn't stay up all night while not at work, I did, and seeing as I am the dictionary definition of the 'L' word, I ended up going to sleep at 3am and sleeping for nearest makes no difference, 12 hours. The mates went to the pub at around that time, and seeing as Beddoe rang me when I had literally just woken up, I was still a bit grumpy and ignored his phone call. I "cba" to walk to the pub. (i. That's teen talk for "Can't be arsed" and ii. Father Mitten had stolen the car).
Because of my extreme laziness, I lazed about for a few hours before meaningfully getting up at a ridiculous 5pm. It is the worst attribute of man, being lazy. If you are clumsy, you can work on getting less so by simply concentrating. If you are a loud speaker, you can work on being more quiet. If you are lazy, you cannot work on being less lazy, because you can't be bothered, because you're too lazy to do so. FML. (More teen speak).
So, here I am, at 3.37am, with the alarm set for a very solidly early 9am, bloggling, because seeing as I am so lazy and unattracted by anything that isn't my bed, I am having to pay the price because I simply cannot sleep. My plan of going to sleep at a respectable 1am were ruined slightly by having some fun with Beddoe, (no homo), but I did manage to climb into bed at 1:50am. Nearly 2 hours on, after all the sleeping techniques in the world, (including counting sheep, dreaming of success and counting Welshmen), I have given up. I may go to sleep in a bit, or I may play the extreme version of the game I have played for the last 9 months and stay up and drink Red Bull by the barrel.
It's not as if I can do this either now, because, unlike all Sundays this season, I am resurrecting the refereeing career as of tomorrow afternoon. So I can't go straight to sleep after playing in the morning. I got a phone call this afternoon, asking me to fill in for an injured referee and thought, "Why not!". Now, I am regretting it, but I am looking forward to running around in black, none the less.
I mentioned earlier that Father Mitten had stolen the car and the reason why was quite funny. Earlier in the week, he had pointed out that one of my tyres was "illegal", and my chances of having a blowout, (Beddoe, please remove the childish smirk from your face at once!), were high. Basically, in short, if I didn't change the tyre, I would die. So, he went today to get a new one. The funny thing is, this car of mine has an engine that sometimes hasn't got any power in it at all, a gearbox that sounds like a shark eating a human leg when you change gear, a door that doesn't open properly, a door that doesn't lock properly, headlights that are as bright as the darkest night and a steering wheel that needs the muscles of Britain's Strongest Man 2010 to operate for the first mile of your journey before the fluid kicks in and, despite all of these problems, since I have owned this car, the one problem that Father Mitten has been OBSESSED with is that my tyres do not have the required 1.6mm tread on them. (And, breathe.)
"Did you know your front-left tyre needs changing"
"Your back-left tyre has rubber missing off of it.
"Your front-right tyre has a tread of 1.4mm and that's a fine and a 6-point penalty."
Really Dad, really? How good is a Police Officer if he, (or she - Don't want to be sexist now do we!), notices a deficit of 0.2mm on a moving car tyre? The Police in this county can't even stop a drugs raid in broad daylight so if they have the super-human ability to see my moving illegal tyres, I don't think my car is the worst of their problems. Deary, deary me.
Anyway. With that rant over, let's get back to business. Today, (or what was left of it), was OK despite my extreme laziness. I went to Ellie's for a good catch-up where we discussed... certain things... and no, she isn't Ellie Goulding! Beddoe then forced me at panda-point to take him to Tesco's for some drugs, (otherwise known as Sorbet), and then came home and dossed!
Music aswell, has been important lately. I have a unique taste in music I feel. Not many people have Jamie Woon, Will Smith, Black Sabbath, Black Eyed Peas, The Doors and James Blake in sequence on their Spotify playlist and if I listed all the artists/bands that were on my Spotify playlist, it would take up a whole post! (Sorry in advance!) But seriously, given the week I have had, which has been as rocky as a yacht trip in the middle of a stormy Atlantic, the music on my playlist has severely helped in calming me down from a dangerously depressing mood and harmoniously happy mood, in equal quantities. Music is a fantastic invention.
I'm completely wide awake. It's now 4:14am, I have to be awake in less than 5 hours and despite doing this all Summer for cricket, I am not looking forward to it. I am looking forward to the football, once I wake up. But it isn't cricket is it..
Summer needs to hurry up.
Night Night x
(I wish)
P.S. And if you are interested, I genuinely did start a long list of all the bands, but I am too lazy to complete it.
Because of my extreme laziness, I lazed about for a few hours before meaningfully getting up at a ridiculous 5pm. It is the worst attribute of man, being lazy. If you are clumsy, you can work on getting less so by simply concentrating. If you are a loud speaker, you can work on being more quiet. If you are lazy, you cannot work on being less lazy, because you can't be bothered, because you're too lazy to do so. FML. (More teen speak).
So, here I am, at 3.37am, with the alarm set for a very solidly early 9am, bloggling, because seeing as I am so lazy and unattracted by anything that isn't my bed, I am having to pay the price because I simply cannot sleep. My plan of going to sleep at a respectable 1am were ruined slightly by having some fun with Beddoe, (no homo), but I did manage to climb into bed at 1:50am. Nearly 2 hours on, after all the sleeping techniques in the world, (including counting sheep, dreaming of success and counting Welshmen), I have given up. I may go to sleep in a bit, or I may play the extreme version of the game I have played for the last 9 months and stay up and drink Red Bull by the barrel.
It's not as if I can do this either now, because, unlike all Sundays this season, I am resurrecting the refereeing career as of tomorrow afternoon. So I can't go straight to sleep after playing in the morning. I got a phone call this afternoon, asking me to fill in for an injured referee and thought, "Why not!". Now, I am regretting it, but I am looking forward to running around in black, none the less.
I mentioned earlier that Father Mitten had stolen the car and the reason why was quite funny. Earlier in the week, he had pointed out that one of my tyres was "illegal", and my chances of having a blowout, (Beddoe, please remove the childish smirk from your face at once!), were high. Basically, in short, if I didn't change the tyre, I would die. So, he went today to get a new one. The funny thing is, this car of mine has an engine that sometimes hasn't got any power in it at all, a gearbox that sounds like a shark eating a human leg when you change gear, a door that doesn't open properly, a door that doesn't lock properly, headlights that are as bright as the darkest night and a steering wheel that needs the muscles of Britain's Strongest Man 2010 to operate for the first mile of your journey before the fluid kicks in and, despite all of these problems, since I have owned this car, the one problem that Father Mitten has been OBSESSED with is that my tyres do not have the required 1.6mm tread on them. (And, breathe.)
"Did you know your front-left tyre needs changing"
"Your back-left tyre has rubber missing off of it.
"Your front-right tyre has a tread of 1.4mm and that's a fine and a 6-point penalty."
Really Dad, really? How good is a Police Officer if he, (or she - Don't want to be sexist now do we!), notices a deficit of 0.2mm on a moving car tyre? The Police in this county can't even stop a drugs raid in broad daylight so if they have the super-human ability to see my moving illegal tyres, I don't think my car is the worst of their problems. Deary, deary me.
Anyway. With that rant over, let's get back to business. Today, (or what was left of it), was OK despite my extreme laziness. I went to Ellie's for a good catch-up where we discussed... certain things... and no, she isn't Ellie Goulding! Beddoe then forced me at panda-point to take him to Tesco's for some drugs, (otherwise known as Sorbet), and then came home and dossed!
Music aswell, has been important lately. I have a unique taste in music I feel. Not many people have Jamie Woon, Will Smith, Black Sabbath, Black Eyed Peas, The Doors and James Blake in sequence on their Spotify playlist and if I listed all the artists/bands that were on my Spotify playlist, it would take up a whole post! (Sorry in advance!) But seriously, given the week I have had, which has been as rocky as a yacht trip in the middle of a stormy Atlantic, the music on my playlist has severely helped in calming me down from a dangerously depressing mood and harmoniously happy mood, in equal quantities. Music is a fantastic invention.
I'm completely wide awake. It's now 4:14am, I have to be awake in less than 5 hours and despite doing this all Summer for cricket, I am not looking forward to it. I am looking forward to the football, once I wake up. But it isn't cricket is it..
Summer needs to hurry up.
Night Night x
(I wish)
P.S. And if you are interested, I genuinely did start a long list of all the bands, but I am too lazy to complete it.
Saturday 8 January 2011
The Mowsbury Galacticos
This evening saw the return of the football season after an unintentional winter break and, despite everyone being noticeably fatter and breathing a lot more heavily, the football on show was of Real Madrid proportions. Or Barcelona? Barcelona won 5-0, so Barcelona!
I was expecting everyone to be highly off-colour and not interested because of it, but everyone showed up with a willing to perform, which meant I had to be bothered so I didn't seem so far out of sync. I was blowing after the warm-up, (oi!), and for some reason my thighs were feeling as if I had had a whole hour workout on them. Still, football was being played and played well! Both teams were passing it around at a rate of knots and both were as smooth as a chocolate gateau. Or a pint of John Smith's. It was all good.
The only thing that wasn't good, was me asking a fellow team-mate, "How drunk were you when you got all your hair shaved off?!" only to face the reply of, "I was ill innit", (yeah, some of them are proper Gangster blood). It was one of those moments, similar to the old, "When's the baby due?" ... "When's the WHAT due?" gag. Oh well!
Personally? I made a couple of good saves, as I usually do, but struggled with the basics that need to be fixed before Sunday's game. I have a new pair of gloves, maybe my 674th pair since starting as a goalkeeper, so I'm confident that today was just rustiness. Also, Sunday will be the first match of the season where I won't be half-asleep and wanting to go back to sleep! Wahey!
I also got my post-Christmas smack in the Gentleman's vegetables thanks to a mighty volley. He didn't hit it softly either! I felt a bit sick for a bit, but I shook the pain away... No, wait... I caressed them better... Ok... I'll be quiet now.
As for the rest of the day, nothing. I didn't get a lot of sleep due to the fact of going to sleep half-drunk and, as I remember, very very very hot. Don't know what happened there, but I only got a few hours in, so I will soon be getting ready to hit the hay. So to speak. But not until a few more episodes of Mitten FM, where I basically improvise my way to ruining someone's facebook page with a random story from nowhere. After 3 episodes in 2 hours, it's already highly popular. YOU should check it out..
For now, though..
Laters x
I was expecting everyone to be highly off-colour and not interested because of it, but everyone showed up with a willing to perform, which meant I had to be bothered so I didn't seem so far out of sync. I was blowing after the warm-up, (oi!), and for some reason my thighs were feeling as if I had had a whole hour workout on them. Still, football was being played and played well! Both teams were passing it around at a rate of knots and both were as smooth as a chocolate gateau. Or a pint of John Smith's. It was all good.
The only thing that wasn't good, was me asking a fellow team-mate, "How drunk were you when you got all your hair shaved off?!" only to face the reply of, "I was ill innit", (yeah, some of them are proper Gangster blood). It was one of those moments, similar to the old, "When's the baby due?" ... "When's the WHAT due?" gag. Oh well!
Personally? I made a couple of good saves, as I usually do, but struggled with the basics that need to be fixed before Sunday's game. I have a new pair of gloves, maybe my 674th pair since starting as a goalkeeper, so I'm confident that today was just rustiness. Also, Sunday will be the first match of the season where I won't be half-asleep and wanting to go back to sleep! Wahey!
I also got my post-Christmas smack in the Gentleman's vegetables thanks to a mighty volley. He didn't hit it softly either! I felt a bit sick for a bit, but I shook the pain away... No, wait... I caressed them better... Ok... I'll be quiet now.
As for the rest of the day, nothing. I didn't get a lot of sleep due to the fact of going to sleep half-drunk and, as I remember, very very very hot. Don't know what happened there, but I only got a few hours in, so I will soon be getting ready to hit the hay. So to speak. But not until a few more episodes of Mitten FM, where I basically improvise my way to ruining someone's facebook page with a random story from nowhere. After 3 episodes in 2 hours, it's already highly popular. YOU should check it out..
For now, though..
Laters x
Friday 7 January 2011
The Last 48
It's going to be tough describing what has been a 48 hours full of high ups and very, very low downs. My head is fit to burst.
I suppose it started on Wednesday evening. I had previously booked the week off work, which is a place where I don't feel a part of anymore, and rightly so. We were looking for something to do, the usual crowd. We decided on going to the cinema, courtesy of Orange, where we saw the 3rd instalment of the 'Fockers' franchise. Still cost enough to get in, and honestly? I didn't pay a lot of attention to the film. It was very average, so I sat in my seat in the corner, just thinking about things. Thinking about things that I keep closed in my head, tell no one of. I had been happy the few days before that and could just feel the down time coming. The Bipolar in me was rearing it's ugly side once more. It's not official, but it might aswell be.
I felt bad upon leaving the cinema. Everyone was quite bubbly, reviewing what they had just seen, but me? I just walked alongside them, reviewing what I had just thought about. I was incredibly silent, I knew I was, but I didn't really care. I knew what was coming, it always does after a few days of happiness. I said so myself, in this very blog, that it wouldn't last very long, but I didn't expect what was to come.
Upon dropping everyone off back at their respective houses, as is accustomed these days, they must have felt that something was up. My tone of voice and general body language suggested it. I dropped the last person off, (Beddoe), and decided on going for a drive. It's what I usually do when I feel a bit down, try and clear my head a bit, but for some reason, this time I couldn't. I just couldn't clear my head. The depression just drowned me, I couldn't get rid of it. I stopped in a lay by somewhere, I don't know where, and just ... cried. I had never felt so bad. Never. Not even during the darkest days had I felt so bad. I couldn't even work out why. There were a couple of things I was annoyed about, but they shouldn't have made me like that. I texted a few people, just to keep me on Planet Earth, but they all said the same things. Said what I wanted to hear, or just said anything just for the sake of replying. It didn't help.
I felt lost at this time of night. I felt like there was nothing worth living for, I didn't feel wanted or like anyone cared. I was so scared. I came to my senses and went home at about 12:45, and went straight to sleep. Maybe after a good, long sleep, the feeling will just disappear. I cried myself to sleep, still feeling as bad as I ever had done. I have no explanation.
My bad mood continued today. I was supposed to go to town to buy things for the University interview. I never made it, and I presume I left my sister waiting for a good couple of hours in town before she realised I was never coming. I just stayed in bed all day, sleeping for the sake of sleeping, realising that if I slept, I wouldn't be awake to think about things. I can be incredibly selfish at times like this, but you must realise that if I wasn't, I wouldn't survive.
Many people are off back to university tomorrow or at the weekend, so they had an, "epic", night out planned, but I realised that I had to leave for my University interview incredibly early, so refused. Preperation was needed, as was an early night, despite sleeping for most of the day anyway. I then had a strange feeling. Lots of people were saying they had University offers, so I decided, on the off chance, to have a look at my university status. I had got an e-mail.
"Your UCAS Status has changed".
Ohhh. Someone had made a decision. I logged in as quickly as I could, hoping for good news. As with last time, my laptop decided to freeze at just the wrong point, but when I finally made it on to the choices page, I saw an 'Unconditional' next to my 1st choice, Brighton. In a matter of seconds, my vicious mood had turned to one of great joy. My future was decided. I am going to university next year, 100%. I no longer had to attend my interview and I was free to go and say goodbye to everyone.
My head had exploded. Emotionally, I was all over the place. I couldn't really think straight, because part of me was still recovering from the awful episode, but part of me was joyous at the news I had just recieved. The night out wasn't amazing, a bit too gangster for my liking, but it was good to see everyone before they went back.
Even if................. Ahhh, what's the point.
And despite sleeping for the best part of 17 hours, I am knackered 8 hours after waking up. My emotions are just, everything. I'm still feeling a little bit down, nowhere near yesterdays level, but the news that my life will definitely be changing in 8 months time, definitely for the better, just makes me so relieved, that I can't possibly explain it. It will be hard work, and a huge step for someone like me, but if I didn't do it, as some monkey would say... What is the point in me?
And I also have a monstrous headache. Alcohol maybe? Or just the fact that what I am feeling right now, every emotion on the planet, just hurts my brain.
Bye x
I suppose it started on Wednesday evening. I had previously booked the week off work, which is a place where I don't feel a part of anymore, and rightly so. We were looking for something to do, the usual crowd. We decided on going to the cinema, courtesy of Orange, where we saw the 3rd instalment of the 'Fockers' franchise. Still cost enough to get in, and honestly? I didn't pay a lot of attention to the film. It was very average, so I sat in my seat in the corner, just thinking about things. Thinking about things that I keep closed in my head, tell no one of. I had been happy the few days before that and could just feel the down time coming. The Bipolar in me was rearing it's ugly side once more. It's not official, but it might aswell be.
I felt bad upon leaving the cinema. Everyone was quite bubbly, reviewing what they had just seen, but me? I just walked alongside them, reviewing what I had just thought about. I was incredibly silent, I knew I was, but I didn't really care. I knew what was coming, it always does after a few days of happiness. I said so myself, in this very blog, that it wouldn't last very long, but I didn't expect what was to come.
Upon dropping everyone off back at their respective houses, as is accustomed these days, they must have felt that something was up. My tone of voice and general body language suggested it. I dropped the last person off, (Beddoe), and decided on going for a drive. It's what I usually do when I feel a bit down, try and clear my head a bit, but for some reason, this time I couldn't. I just couldn't clear my head. The depression just drowned me, I couldn't get rid of it. I stopped in a lay by somewhere, I don't know where, and just ... cried. I had never felt so bad. Never. Not even during the darkest days had I felt so bad. I couldn't even work out why. There were a couple of things I was annoyed about, but they shouldn't have made me like that. I texted a few people, just to keep me on Planet Earth, but they all said the same things. Said what I wanted to hear, or just said anything just for the sake of replying. It didn't help.
I felt lost at this time of night. I felt like there was nothing worth living for, I didn't feel wanted or like anyone cared. I was so scared. I came to my senses and went home at about 12:45, and went straight to sleep. Maybe after a good, long sleep, the feeling will just disappear. I cried myself to sleep, still feeling as bad as I ever had done. I have no explanation.
My bad mood continued today. I was supposed to go to town to buy things for the University interview. I never made it, and I presume I left my sister waiting for a good couple of hours in town before she realised I was never coming. I just stayed in bed all day, sleeping for the sake of sleeping, realising that if I slept, I wouldn't be awake to think about things. I can be incredibly selfish at times like this, but you must realise that if I wasn't, I wouldn't survive.
Many people are off back to university tomorrow or at the weekend, so they had an, "epic", night out planned, but I realised that I had to leave for my University interview incredibly early, so refused. Preperation was needed, as was an early night, despite sleeping for most of the day anyway. I then had a strange feeling. Lots of people were saying they had University offers, so I decided, on the off chance, to have a look at my university status. I had got an e-mail.
"Your UCAS Status has changed".
Ohhh. Someone had made a decision. I logged in as quickly as I could, hoping for good news. As with last time, my laptop decided to freeze at just the wrong point, but when I finally made it on to the choices page, I saw an 'Unconditional' next to my 1st choice, Brighton. In a matter of seconds, my vicious mood had turned to one of great joy. My future was decided. I am going to university next year, 100%. I no longer had to attend my interview and I was free to go and say goodbye to everyone.
My head had exploded. Emotionally, I was all over the place. I couldn't really think straight, because part of me was still recovering from the awful episode, but part of me was joyous at the news I had just recieved. The night out wasn't amazing, a bit too gangster for my liking, but it was good to see everyone before they went back.
Even if................. Ahhh, what's the point.
And despite sleeping for the best part of 17 hours, I am knackered 8 hours after waking up. My emotions are just, everything. I'm still feeling a little bit down, nowhere near yesterdays level, but the news that my life will definitely be changing in 8 months time, definitely for the better, just makes me so relieved, that I can't possibly explain it. It will be hard work, and a huge step for someone like me, but if I didn't do it, as some monkey would say... What is the point in me?
And I also have a monstrous headache. Alcohol maybe? Or just the fact that what I am feeling right now, every emotion on the planet, just hurts my brain.
Bye x
Wednesday 5 January 2011
Finance
Sounds boring doesn't it... And you'd be right. I don't imagine this post being spectacularly amazing and I didn't even plan to write anything in here tonight, but seeing as there's a break in the cricket, (an event which I am committed to staying to watch until the close), let's see what we can muster up from the deeper segments of the brain of Mitten.
I can foresee difficult times ahead with flashes of greatness. Once I finish work, I can see me half-heartedly sifting through the Internet's darkest regions, (No Beddoe, not those regions), for the dream job that I will have for 8 months before hopefully, the inevitable. The closer future holds many great things.
I'm driving down to Bath on Friday, alone, to attend the interview that will hopefully open a door to the next few years. I'm starting to feel slightly nervous at the prospect but I am holding on to the fact that many of the other applicants haven't been through any sort of interview, whereas I have been round the block enough to know roughly what's going to happen. I suppose some money will be spent getting there and hopefully getting back, on the tyres that are as bare as a Thai woman's vegetable patch. The risk of a blowout is imminent... (I foresee Beddoe chuckling at this moment).
The rest of January, until the very end at least, is just as bare, with every Wednesday evening the only time on my timetable taken up by sporting events of 2 sorts. 5-a-side football and Indoor Cricket nets, alternate weeks, for 10 weeks. Time to get rid of the belly that has suddenly formed. £20 for 6 weeks of football and £3 per week of cricket, is just more money that will disappear. Sunday mornings also see the return of the regular football season and for the 2nd half of the season, I won't be needing the Red Bull to wake me up.
The end of January though, brings more tales of Manchester based woe and delight. Yet another trek up to the dizzy heights of the city will surely bring more stories of such prosterity and wasted times that a post in this blog will definitely be dedicated to it. I'm just as excited as any other time, except for the fact the morons I call, "my friends", have created an Operation. An operation that involves me and some girl I don't even know. I think you can work the rest out for yourselves, but in my past experience of, "Operations", I can't actually think of one that has failed.. Meaning that this one is bound to go down the same road, and to be completely honest guys... I am well and truly, in!
Money however, will be used, (maybe in the Operation itself if the rumours of this person are to be believed). I joke... Or do I.?
The cricket season aswell, is always drawing nearer, and I still intend to put plenty of money aside so I can play a full part without having to demand money from the rents, which will become as annoying for them as it will embarrassing for me. It's a bit different to the football, where I can sort of blackmail The Gaffer, (a.k.a Father Mitten), into not paying. I can just say, "I'm not paying and if you won't let me play because of it, you don't have a keeper". And that wouldn't go down too well with the squad... Hey, that's a plan you know! Money saved!
That is my point though. Good things cost money and seeing as I'm probably not going to have a job for months, this delightful resource will become scarce. I do want to sell the Mittenmobile, (as much as it pains me to say it), which will create more, but Mother Mitten is attempting to stifle those wants, probably because she wants to get to Tesco's at a decent hour. It is going to be a tough few months, and the things I have listed above are the only good things I can think of. The rest will be full of painstakingly long days, searching as if I want something. Hopefully all goes well on Friday...
Or my life will be as bare as that Thai..
Cya x
I can foresee difficult times ahead with flashes of greatness. Once I finish work, I can see me half-heartedly sifting through the Internet's darkest regions, (No Beddoe, not those regions), for the dream job that I will have for 8 months before hopefully, the inevitable. The closer future holds many great things.
I'm driving down to Bath on Friday, alone, to attend the interview that will hopefully open a door to the next few years. I'm starting to feel slightly nervous at the prospect but I am holding on to the fact that many of the other applicants haven't been through any sort of interview, whereas I have been round the block enough to know roughly what's going to happen. I suppose some money will be spent getting there and hopefully getting back, on the tyres that are as bare as a Thai woman's vegetable patch. The risk of a blowout is imminent... (I foresee Beddoe chuckling at this moment).
The rest of January, until the very end at least, is just as bare, with every Wednesday evening the only time on my timetable taken up by sporting events of 2 sorts. 5-a-side football and Indoor Cricket nets, alternate weeks, for 10 weeks. Time to get rid of the belly that has suddenly formed. £20 for 6 weeks of football and £3 per week of cricket, is just more money that will disappear. Sunday mornings also see the return of the regular football season and for the 2nd half of the season, I won't be needing the Red Bull to wake me up.
The end of January though, brings more tales of Manchester based woe and delight. Yet another trek up to the dizzy heights of the city will surely bring more stories of such prosterity and wasted times that a post in this blog will definitely be dedicated to it. I'm just as excited as any other time, except for the fact the morons I call, "my friends", have created an Operation. An operation that involves me and some girl I don't even know. I think you can work the rest out for yourselves, but in my past experience of, "Operations", I can't actually think of one that has failed.. Meaning that this one is bound to go down the same road, and to be completely honest guys... I am well and truly, in!
Money however, will be used, (maybe in the Operation itself if the rumours of this person are to be believed). I joke... Or do I.?
The cricket season aswell, is always drawing nearer, and I still intend to put plenty of money aside so I can play a full part without having to demand money from the rents, which will become as annoying for them as it will embarrassing for me. It's a bit different to the football, where I can sort of blackmail The Gaffer, (a.k.a Father Mitten), into not paying. I can just say, "I'm not paying and if you won't let me play because of it, you don't have a keeper". And that wouldn't go down too well with the squad... Hey, that's a plan you know! Money saved!
That is my point though. Good things cost money and seeing as I'm probably not going to have a job for months, this delightful resource will become scarce. I do want to sell the Mittenmobile, (as much as it pains me to say it), which will create more, but Mother Mitten is attempting to stifle those wants, probably because she wants to get to Tesco's at a decent hour. It is going to be a tough few months, and the things I have listed above are the only good things I can think of. The rest will be full of painstakingly long days, searching as if I want something. Hopefully all goes well on Friday...
Or my life will be as bare as that Thai..
Cya x
Sunday 2 January 2011
12 + 3 = Freedom
An extra day off than I had previously anticipated means I also have tomorrow off! Meaning I have a grand total of 12 days off, before my final 3 shifts, that will undoubtedly leave me with a whole host of problems on my final weekend before ... freedom!
I have thought, again, about whether I am making the right decision and I have guaranteed myself that I have. I can't do nights anymore with that man, I just can't. I am surprised I have lasted this long, given my track record of giving up too easily!
Despite being at work with the atrocity all weekend, I can't help but feel in a good mood. I shouldn't be. I should be annoyed that I never got to party on New Year's, but my friends more than made up for that, as I bloggled. I am still forever greatful for their kind thoughts. Tonight went fairly quickly before the Small Maritian offered to work my shift tomorrow because he, "needs the money". More than me anyway, and any offer to get out of a shift at Hell is more than taken by me these days. So, I have tonight off aswell! A night in which I plan, if all goes well, to enjoy a curry with my fantastic friends. The beginning of freedom!
Not a lot else to say. For once, I expect this good mood to last me for a while before souring as they usually do, so I'm determined to make the most of it. But for now, sleepy Mitten.
Bye x
I have thought, again, about whether I am making the right decision and I have guaranteed myself that I have. I can't do nights anymore with that man, I just can't. I am surprised I have lasted this long, given my track record of giving up too easily!
Despite being at work with the atrocity all weekend, I can't help but feel in a good mood. I shouldn't be. I should be annoyed that I never got to party on New Year's, but my friends more than made up for that, as I bloggled. I am still forever greatful for their kind thoughts. Tonight went fairly quickly before the Small Maritian offered to work my shift tomorrow because he, "needs the money". More than me anyway, and any offer to get out of a shift at Hell is more than taken by me these days. So, I have tonight off aswell! A night in which I plan, if all goes well, to enjoy a curry with my fantastic friends. The beginning of freedom!
Not a lot else to say. For once, I expect this good mood to last me for a while before souring as they usually do, so I'm determined to make the most of it. But for now, sleepy Mitten.
Bye x
Saturday 1 January 2011
Bringing in the New Year In ... Style?
Tonight was a strange one. At roughly 7pm, I felt exactly how I thought I would feel. Incredibly dispirited at having to go to work while the world partied in the new year. Another night of merciless and this time, busy, jobs to be completed, safe in the knowledge that every single one of my friends were drinking, partying and generally having fun. My life at that stage, was awful.
But it didn't really turn out that way. After my short passage of major depression, I decided to buck my ideas up. It's going to happen, so let's try and make the most of it, think of the double pay, and get on with it. I went to Beddoe's at 7:45 for an hour and a bit to socialise as much as I could, with as little drink as possible, before taxiing them to their destination. I dropped them off, deeply sighing to myself and drove to work. Here we go. Another night of The Wall, endless jobs and even more drunken custom than usual.
I suppose thinking positively helped massively. It's not usually the attitude I would take, but maybe I should take it more often. The night started a bit slow. It was relatively busy, full of people preparing for the change of the year and we got on with everything, amongst strangely cheerful chatter. The Wall was OK tonight. I was thinking, "it's a postive". I recieved a couple of visits from Kettle and Roger, then Roger on his own, before the turn of the year. The Wall wished me a Happy New Year, and I returned the wish. To be fair, I hope he has a great year, rotting away in that place, while I escape amidst my lies.
10 minutes after midnight though, it all broke loose. I was just going about my business, wondering what was going on at this house party that all of my friends were at, where I was answered almost immediately. Nothing was going on at the House Party, because no one was at the house... Everyone, (and I mean pretty much, EVERYONE), had ascended on BP. Wow.
I was seriously, properly speechless. Everyone, probably 15 of my great friends had decided that if I couldn't go to the party, they would bring the party to me! As I walked out of the warehouse door, I was mobbed by a load of hugging friends. I was amazed. Amazed that they had taken the time out of their party, to come to me and see how I was doing. I was genuinely touched, and I even started to cry a little, although obviously in the view of no one else! It's amazing to know that there are friends out there who care that much.
I think it's definitely the best moment of my year. (Well, it was effectively 2011 by that point, but you know what I mean!)
They even came back at 1.30am, when I went on my break and we stood around in the corner for a while just chatting. All of them came back, even with a few more people, just to see me! I couldn't care less about the sniding comments made by The Wall after they had gone, (he probably has never had so many friends in his life), because it was just fantastic that I was thought of when they could of just stayed indoors and partied on. Amazing.
As the night wore on, with a smile plastered across my face for the majority, there were many drunken stories of others to pass on. We had a man who stayed for 20 minutes, discussing the frailties of Shredded Wheat before I told him to literally, "go away". We had a man, who tried to pay for £10.34 worth of cigarettes in pennies, thank God, to The Wall. We had a man, (whilst my friends were in attendance), who offered to pay £1 for every person who pissed themselves. We had an arrest on the forecourt for something we never found out, and by the time I had ran out at 6.10am, refusing to do the weekend's papers because, "I had to go", someone had let off a fire extinguisher, creating a large cloud for me to escape from!
But I didn't go home. No, I did not. If my friends made the effort to come and see me, I would return the offering! I had been invited, even if everyone was a bit worse for wear by this stage, to the very latter stages of this party. As I walked in through the front door, I saw many people asleep and a few still awake, talking. I walked in and enjoyed a good chat with very tired people. The consuing trip to McDonalds was a fail, as it was predictably closed, and we had a bit more of a chat, (Apologies to Kettle here for outrageous innuendoes!), before people lay anywhere they could find to get some sleep. For some strange reason, I decided to lay on the floor with them... but then realised there was literally no point! So said goodbye to the remaining awake person, and crept out in near silence... Ok, I was pretty loud. But people were too knackered to wake up.
So tonight was made better by the joys of alcohol, (even if I had none), and the phenomonal friendships I hold. Seriously people, that made my year. Genuinely. After all the hardships of the year, to recieve a gesture like that... You have no idea how much it meant. And it's not usually I get sentimental. Thankyou.
Cheerio x
But it didn't really turn out that way. After my short passage of major depression, I decided to buck my ideas up. It's going to happen, so let's try and make the most of it, think of the double pay, and get on with it. I went to Beddoe's at 7:45 for an hour and a bit to socialise as much as I could, with as little drink as possible, before taxiing them to their destination. I dropped them off, deeply sighing to myself and drove to work. Here we go. Another night of The Wall, endless jobs and even more drunken custom than usual.
I suppose thinking positively helped massively. It's not usually the attitude I would take, but maybe I should take it more often. The night started a bit slow. It was relatively busy, full of people preparing for the change of the year and we got on with everything, amongst strangely cheerful chatter. The Wall was OK tonight. I was thinking, "it's a postive". I recieved a couple of visits from Kettle and Roger, then Roger on his own, before the turn of the year. The Wall wished me a Happy New Year, and I returned the wish. To be fair, I hope he has a great year, rotting away in that place, while I escape amidst my lies.
10 minutes after midnight though, it all broke loose. I was just going about my business, wondering what was going on at this house party that all of my friends were at, where I was answered almost immediately. Nothing was going on at the House Party, because no one was at the house... Everyone, (and I mean pretty much, EVERYONE), had ascended on BP. Wow.
I was seriously, properly speechless. Everyone, probably 15 of my great friends had decided that if I couldn't go to the party, they would bring the party to me! As I walked out of the warehouse door, I was mobbed by a load of hugging friends. I was amazed. Amazed that they had taken the time out of their party, to come to me and see how I was doing. I was genuinely touched, and I even started to cry a little, although obviously in the view of no one else! It's amazing to know that there are friends out there who care that much.
I think it's definitely the best moment of my year. (Well, it was effectively 2011 by that point, but you know what I mean!)
They even came back at 1.30am, when I went on my break and we stood around in the corner for a while just chatting. All of them came back, even with a few more people, just to see me! I couldn't care less about the sniding comments made by The Wall after they had gone, (he probably has never had so many friends in his life), because it was just fantastic that I was thought of when they could of just stayed indoors and partied on. Amazing.
As the night wore on, with a smile plastered across my face for the majority, there were many drunken stories of others to pass on. We had a man who stayed for 20 minutes, discussing the frailties of Shredded Wheat before I told him to literally, "go away". We had a man, who tried to pay for £10.34 worth of cigarettes in pennies, thank God, to The Wall. We had a man, (whilst my friends were in attendance), who offered to pay £1 for every person who pissed themselves. We had an arrest on the forecourt for something we never found out, and by the time I had ran out at 6.10am, refusing to do the weekend's papers because, "I had to go", someone had let off a fire extinguisher, creating a large cloud for me to escape from!
But I didn't go home. No, I did not. If my friends made the effort to come and see me, I would return the offering! I had been invited, even if everyone was a bit worse for wear by this stage, to the very latter stages of this party. As I walked in through the front door, I saw many people asleep and a few still awake, talking. I walked in and enjoyed a good chat with very tired people. The consuing trip to McDonalds was a fail, as it was predictably closed, and we had a bit more of a chat, (Apologies to Kettle here for outrageous innuendoes!), before people lay anywhere they could find to get some sleep. For some strange reason, I decided to lay on the floor with them... but then realised there was literally no point! So said goodbye to the remaining awake person, and crept out in near silence... Ok, I was pretty loud. But people were too knackered to wake up.
So tonight was made better by the joys of alcohol, (even if I had none), and the phenomonal friendships I hold. Seriously people, that made my year. Genuinely. After all the hardships of the year, to recieve a gesture like that... You have no idea how much it meant. And it's not usually I get sentimental. Thankyou.
Cheerio x
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