I fear I am losing sight of why I started this blog in the first place. The honesty, the "frankness", some would call it, the "downright rudeness".. I haven't been very honest in this blog recently, and seeing as this blog's fundamental purpose is to be honest to the world when my own mouth fails me, I feel this has been rather redundant recently. And seeing as I'm as drunk as a skunk, right now seems to be the right time to disclose all of these secrets that I seem to have been keeping.
We'll start with the reason I am in this state to begin with. For some strange, strange reason, I thought it might be a good idea to round up as many people as possible and arrange an "impromptu" night out on the town. It is Beddoe's birthday today after all, so it would be rude not to! I hosted pre-drinks, seeing as the rest of the Family Mitten are away on their travels, and despite there only being 5 of us, the drink flowed and the game of Ring of Fire resulted in many phone calls to a disgruntled Ellie Goulding as she attempted to sleep amongst the madness. Why she didn't turn her phone off was beyond me... Anyway, after the longest walk to a taxi ever, seeing as he went the wrong way, we were on our way to town. My latest trick is to lure the other hawkers into thinking I am a complete nutter and buy as many Jagerbombs as I see fit.. Albeit being an expensive idea, I managed to get everyone wasted enough to get to Saints, where the ridiculousness kicked off for good. For your information, I bought 10 Jagerbombs and a mixed Kopperburg for Fieldy, as I owed him a drink, at a price of 18.60... It is an expensive party trick, and I feel I may have to stop it, in fear of bankruptcy.
Even so, after a rushed trip to the cashpoint to get more money out, (Yeah, the effort to get the title of 'Chief Waster' was an expensive one!), we ended up in Saints, not knowing what to expect. I thought it might be a bit quiet, seeing as it was a Wednesday. Wednesday night in Bedford town is usually "student night", but seeing as all the students had gone home, I thought it may be a bit silent.. How wrong I was...
I have to admit.... as if it's worth admitting, that I have never ended up in just my boxers on a night out before... But, there is a first for everything! Saints was busy, as it was a foam party, and after being COVERED in the stuff, for some ridiculous reason, me, Beddoe and Fieldy ended up in a jacuzzi at the back of the club, in just our boxers, with some girl and guy we didn't know. I didn't have a clue what was going on, and once again, the pictures taken are going to be insane.. Even now, I cannot remember what on Earth happened... I fear the hangover tomorrow...
You know what, even with the usual pattern of .... tipsy, drunk, ruined, remorseful, tired, I cannot, and do not want to, disclose my troubles at the moment. I feel the Summer, as it has begun, will be full of good times and antics and I do not want to ruin that. I only see good times ahead, and seeing as this is me talking, who would ever have thought that after the last couple of years?
Maybe I should live in independance all the time.... Bring on September! (And I think I've done quite well here, considering my eyes feel like they have been stung by a Queen Bee!)
Thursday 30 June 2011
Monday 27 June 2011
Back to the Good Old Days
There were many potential titles to this particular blog entry. 'Mini Heatwave' in accordance with the sudden raise in temperature that is almost certain to finish as soon as it started. I sit here in my room, at 6:30am, with the window thrown wide open in a desperate attempt to let in any cool air that may have survived from the night. 'Dude Looks Like a Lady', after the song with that title started playing instantaneously with the arrival of a transvetite that entered BP, and even 'The King of Jaegerbombs' was considered, after the events of Saturday night, with which I shall begin with.
It was Colin's 21st, so naturally a night out on Bedford town was to be had. I finished work at 10pm, making swift arrangements to get into town with the free help of Father Mitten as taxi, and was in town half an hour later. I was greeted by a wasted Colin, surrounded by workmates, who had already had past his quota of drink, and had no intention of stopping, even after his stripper embarrassed him. After a few change of hearts, we decided on Chameleon to meet with other people, but was greeted by a massive queue. Bedford town was ridiculously busy. I had never seen this amount of people on a night out in this place before, and after about 20 minutes, we eventually got in. Another 20 minutes went by waiting to get served. It was 11:15pm by the time I had any drink inside me, which is a rather poor effort, so after a JD and coke and a few jaegarbombs, I decided to go on the offensive. I had been paid from GoOutdoors, so had some money in the bank, and seeing as I had to wait another 15 minutes or so to get served, I thought I may aswell get drinks for everyone. 14 Jeagerbombs were ordered, much to the amazement of the barman, and with the help of Mason and Beddoe, managed to get them upstairs to where everyone was sitting. Or, at least, where everyone else WAS sitting. They had vanished, which meant we had 14 jaegerbombs to share between 3 people, (as Billie "doesn't do" Jaegerbombs!) For those of you who have no clue of the alcohol world, a Jaegerbomb is pretty nifty way of getting drunk quickly, and after I had had past 10 of them in "that night with the camera" last week, I was well on my way to giving my liver another beating, as me and Beddoe had at least 5 each, and Mason, 3. I think we ended up giving a couple away! On the plus side, it was midnight, and I was finally mittoed. Mission accomplished.
We ended up in Saints, where we were reunited with an even drunker Colin and the ridiculous kids who had run out on us in Chameleon, and a good night was had by all, before alcohol took a strangle hold of my negative side for 45 minutes or so. I'm almost used to it, and after I had had some water and a walk with a ruined Watty, I was good to get a cab home, albeit with a spinning head.
It took me a while to get to sleep, but I was happy as I didn't have to go to work on Sunday afternoon, leaving me free to play cricket in this beautiful, beautiful weather we had! Unfortunately, our performance was less than beautiful, as I don't think we even made it to triple figures chasing a medoicre target of 170. I'm not sure everyone's heads were in it, (I know mine wasn't!), but I really wasn't too bothered. I took a good catch at slip regardless, and we had a laugh so I can't really ask for much more. I only made 6 runs, (for some reason, everyone expected me to be on "top form" after my ton a few weeks back, but that was the last time I had picked up a bat!), and I was home by 7.30, in time for the new series of Top Gear!
However. Oh dear... Seeing as I had swapped shifts to free myself up for cricket, I had to work tonight. After vowing I would never, ever, in a million years, work another night shift in my life, here I was going through the motions of what was a very, very long night. Even more so when the shop closes at midnight for 5 hours, and you have to serve through the very awkward and annoying night box. After only a few hours sleep the night before also, plus a game of cricket, I was well and truly back to where I was last year. Fighting to stay awake, in the chilly BP store, doing all the mundane tasks a night-shift person has to go through. When 6am came around, I was pleased to be cycling home, (the Mittenmobile is once again, out of action), and although I really should be going to sleep, it is already around 20 degrees, and the time is approaching 7am. I think it's going to be a scorcher today...
Of course, I won't have any trouble sleeping in it. I could sleep through a tsunami. This week, as Sister Mitten continues her globe-trotting, and the Parents Mitten go on holiday to The District of Lakes, I'm home alone for 4 days. Whether or not the food I prepare, (Even if they are ready meals), will be edible, remains to be seen, and in the eyes of Mother Mitten, it will be a success if the house isn't burnt to the ground by the time she and Father Mitten return!
Anyway. Seeing as I've been waiting around 12 hours to go to sleep, I guess the most sensible thing to do is do just that.
It was Colin's 21st, so naturally a night out on Bedford town was to be had. I finished work at 10pm, making swift arrangements to get into town with the free help of Father Mitten as taxi, and was in town half an hour later. I was greeted by a wasted Colin, surrounded by workmates, who had already had past his quota of drink, and had no intention of stopping, even after his stripper embarrassed him. After a few change of hearts, we decided on Chameleon to meet with other people, but was greeted by a massive queue. Bedford town was ridiculously busy. I had never seen this amount of people on a night out in this place before, and after about 20 minutes, we eventually got in. Another 20 minutes went by waiting to get served. It was 11:15pm by the time I had any drink inside me, which is a rather poor effort, so after a JD and coke and a few jaegarbombs, I decided to go on the offensive. I had been paid from GoOutdoors, so had some money in the bank, and seeing as I had to wait another 15 minutes or so to get served, I thought I may aswell get drinks for everyone. 14 Jeagerbombs were ordered, much to the amazement of the barman, and with the help of Mason and Beddoe, managed to get them upstairs to where everyone was sitting. Or, at least, where everyone else WAS sitting. They had vanished, which meant we had 14 jaegerbombs to share between 3 people, (as Billie "doesn't do" Jaegerbombs!) For those of you who have no clue of the alcohol world, a Jaegerbomb is pretty nifty way of getting drunk quickly, and after I had had past 10 of them in "that night with the camera" last week, I was well on my way to giving my liver another beating, as me and Beddoe had at least 5 each, and Mason, 3. I think we ended up giving a couple away! On the plus side, it was midnight, and I was finally mittoed. Mission accomplished.
We ended up in Saints, where we were reunited with an even drunker Colin and the ridiculous kids who had run out on us in Chameleon, and a good night was had by all, before alcohol took a strangle hold of my negative side for 45 minutes or so. I'm almost used to it, and after I had had some water and a walk with a ruined Watty, I was good to get a cab home, albeit with a spinning head.
It took me a while to get to sleep, but I was happy as I didn't have to go to work on Sunday afternoon, leaving me free to play cricket in this beautiful, beautiful weather we had! Unfortunately, our performance was less than beautiful, as I don't think we even made it to triple figures chasing a medoicre target of 170. I'm not sure everyone's heads were in it, (I know mine wasn't!), but I really wasn't too bothered. I took a good catch at slip regardless, and we had a laugh so I can't really ask for much more. I only made 6 runs, (for some reason, everyone expected me to be on "top form" after my ton a few weeks back, but that was the last time I had picked up a bat!), and I was home by 7.30, in time for the new series of Top Gear!
However. Oh dear... Seeing as I had swapped shifts to free myself up for cricket, I had to work tonight. After vowing I would never, ever, in a million years, work another night shift in my life, here I was going through the motions of what was a very, very long night. Even more so when the shop closes at midnight for 5 hours, and you have to serve through the very awkward and annoying night box. After only a few hours sleep the night before also, plus a game of cricket, I was well and truly back to where I was last year. Fighting to stay awake, in the chilly BP store, doing all the mundane tasks a night-shift person has to go through. When 6am came around, I was pleased to be cycling home, (the Mittenmobile is once again, out of action), and although I really should be going to sleep, it is already around 20 degrees, and the time is approaching 7am. I think it's going to be a scorcher today...
Of course, I won't have any trouble sleeping in it. I could sleep through a tsunami. This week, as Sister Mitten continues her globe-trotting, and the Parents Mitten go on holiday to The District of Lakes, I'm home alone for 4 days. Whether or not the food I prepare, (Even if they are ready meals), will be edible, remains to be seen, and in the eyes of Mother Mitten, it will be a success if the house isn't burnt to the ground by the time she and Father Mitten return!
Anyway. Seeing as I've been waiting around 12 hours to go to sleep, I guess the most sensible thing to do is do just that.
Friday 24 June 2011
My BBC1 Debut
I am milking this for all it's worth. I don't think I even mentioned it when it happened, but during September/October of last year, during one of the long nights at BP, (albeit with Ann the Capable One), we had a visit from a Police Officer called Tanveer Hussain and a cameraman. He had come in for a coffee, and had noticed a drunk gentleman getting on his motorbike... If you watched BBC1 tonight, at around 8.30pm, (or alternatively, you can catch it on iPlayer!), you'd already know the story!
I would like to make it plain, that I did not instigate this campaign to stardom, as I was simply playing pool in the Exec Club, before my phone started to go beserk. At around 9pm I think it was, my phone vibrated constantly for about 5 minutes, revealing around 20 texts saying things along the lines of, "I think I just saw you on Traffic Cops!" My initial reaction was one of confusion and fear, as I couldn't remember being a criminal in recent years, but given I had had many drunken experiences where I couldn't remember anything, maybe I was?! In a few seconds though, I remembered the episode, deep into the early hours of another Wednesday night at the "berp", and chuckled to myself that I had been a, "celebrity", (if you can possibly call it that), for a matter of the few seconds that I appeared on one of the biggest television channels in the world. As I put it like that, it makes it sound incredible! And it was... Come on! It was!
Myself and Ann looked a bit bored, and rightly so, however, watching this episode back brings a few smiles to your face. Even the commentator on the programme stated that, "the cigarettes he bought were expensive", which just goes to show that the prices we have are ridiculous...
Back to the real world, and today has been largely deleted due to my ridiculous sleeping habits. I got to sleep last night at around 5am, when the Sun had completely risen, meaning it was effectively daytime, and I awoke at about 3.30 this afternoon. Laziness in it's entirety. I then found out that I had been paid double what I had been expecting after my brief stay at GoOutdoors last month, (at least I THINK it's the pay from them!), and went on to steal a winning scratchcard from Cool Will at the "berp" as I bought some much needed fuel. I then spent the night watching Watty and co. sink into their drinking trousers as we threw away a lot of money on the quiz machine, (winning some back), and failing at darts and pool, surrounded by the whole BBC1 episode!
I am quite pleased that I got noticed! Can you tell?
I would like to make it plain, that I did not instigate this campaign to stardom, as I was simply playing pool in the Exec Club, before my phone started to go beserk. At around 9pm I think it was, my phone vibrated constantly for about 5 minutes, revealing around 20 texts saying things along the lines of, "I think I just saw you on Traffic Cops!" My initial reaction was one of confusion and fear, as I couldn't remember being a criminal in recent years, but given I had had many drunken experiences where I couldn't remember anything, maybe I was?! In a few seconds though, I remembered the episode, deep into the early hours of another Wednesday night at the "berp", and chuckled to myself that I had been a, "celebrity", (if you can possibly call it that), for a matter of the few seconds that I appeared on one of the biggest television channels in the world. As I put it like that, it makes it sound incredible! And it was... Come on! It was!
Myself and Ann looked a bit bored, and rightly so, however, watching this episode back brings a few smiles to your face. Even the commentator on the programme stated that, "the cigarettes he bought were expensive", which just goes to show that the prices we have are ridiculous...
Back to the real world, and today has been largely deleted due to my ridiculous sleeping habits. I got to sleep last night at around 5am, when the Sun had completely risen, meaning it was effectively daytime, and I awoke at about 3.30 this afternoon. Laziness in it's entirety. I then found out that I had been paid double what I had been expecting after my brief stay at GoOutdoors last month, (at least I THINK it's the pay from them!), and went on to steal a winning scratchcard from Cool Will at the "berp" as I bought some much needed fuel. I then spent the night watching Watty and co. sink into their drinking trousers as we threw away a lot of money on the quiz machine, (winning some back), and failing at darts and pool, surrounded by the whole BBC1 episode!
I am quite pleased that I got noticed! Can you tell?
Thursday 23 June 2011
Where's the Ambition?
As Sister Mitten flew off on the latest leg of her world tour, to explore what are surely the incredible sights of Far East Asia, and a few friends get ready to leave for the messy weekend that is Glastonbury, I can't help but feel a little bit jealous. I know these people have worked hard to earn these opportunities, and I have done anything but, however, I do lament the lack of ambition in me sometimes.
Sister Mitten left for Thailand at around 6am yesterday morning, and has just arrived in Bangkok to a plethora of strange culture and a language she doesn't understand. She intends to spend a considerable amount of time travelling around Thailand aswell as Vietnam and Laos, which is simply incredible, given that I know nothing about Laos worth knowing, and ask the question, "IS there anything worth knowing about Laos?" My sister's ambiton and hunger to see the world is something I have no interest in. The only time I've even been on a plane is a 40-minute flight to Jersey, when I was 9, and I've been on the Eurostar to Paris. That's it. I haven't been abroad otherwise. I don't mind this so much. It doesn't matter that I don't want to travel the globe, as this is not everyone's cup of tea, but I can't think of anything that I want to do. Something out of the ordinary, and interesting. I stick to the status quo, and very occasionally this troubles me.
At work today, from the redundant hours of 5pm-10pm, I saw a few old faces from the Newnham days. Mrs Rush, who was my old P.E teacher and spent a considerable amount of time giving me some serious tennis coaching, came in with a huge basket full of things. I could see the disappointment in her eyes that I had ended up behind a till at a petrol station, and hearing about my sister's exploits and her law degree. However, after I managed to get a word in, I told her I was going to University in Brighton, to do Sports Coaching, she seemed rather pleased!
"You'll love it! Brighton is an awesome place aswell!"
I liked Mrs.Rush. She was firm but fair, and a very good P.E teacher, but I firmly believe that she still takes the credit for me winning the school tennis tournament in Year 7. I won the final, on a Friday afternoon, (I believe I missed double science for the finals), after being coached by her all year! She was cool though.
Another old face from Newnham, was Ms.Swales, who runs the S.E.N department at the school. I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but I spent a fair few months, 1 day a week, volunteering in the S.E.N department back in the day where I thought I wanted to become a Primary school teacher. These were a few months before things started to fall apart at the seams, but she did still recognise me. However, once again, she seemed a bit disappointed at hearing I was not at University, but instead at some crappy BP station, and she had gone before I had a chance to tell her I am going!
This is the thing though. My idea of ambition is gambling upon going to University, whereas that seems like the normal thing to do for a young person these days. My ideas of ambition are anyone else's idea of normality, which leads me to think where this lack of ambition may lead me. Am I going to spend the rest of my life in averageness, or is there going to be a stage in my life where I seriously jump in at the deep end, with both feet? Only time will tell I suppose!
It's difficult to fathom just how much my Sister has achieved since she left school herself. She spent 3 Summers in Camp America, in the time she wasn't getting her Law degree, working her way up to Team Leader, she's travelled to Australia and spent a fair while working Down Under, and now she has gone to a place that she knows little about, where the culture must be extraordinarily out of her comfort zone. I don't know how she does it. Part of me does feel like I need to match her though, and I know that this won't happen. I know it sounds ridiculous.
And here I am, awake in the very early hours, again, waiting for something to come to me. Classic Mitten. I have yet to learn the lesson of life, and seeing as I'm in my 20's now, I don't have long left to learn. University, I believe, however difficult it may be, will be the turning point. I just wish I buck my ideas up enough to achieve something there.
Sister Mitten left for Thailand at around 6am yesterday morning, and has just arrived in Bangkok to a plethora of strange culture and a language she doesn't understand. She intends to spend a considerable amount of time travelling around Thailand aswell as Vietnam and Laos, which is simply incredible, given that I know nothing about Laos worth knowing, and ask the question, "IS there anything worth knowing about Laos?" My sister's ambiton and hunger to see the world is something I have no interest in. The only time I've even been on a plane is a 40-minute flight to Jersey, when I was 9, and I've been on the Eurostar to Paris. That's it. I haven't been abroad otherwise. I don't mind this so much. It doesn't matter that I don't want to travel the globe, as this is not everyone's cup of tea, but I can't think of anything that I want to do. Something out of the ordinary, and interesting. I stick to the status quo, and very occasionally this troubles me.
At work today, from the redundant hours of 5pm-10pm, I saw a few old faces from the Newnham days. Mrs Rush, who was my old P.E teacher and spent a considerable amount of time giving me some serious tennis coaching, came in with a huge basket full of things. I could see the disappointment in her eyes that I had ended up behind a till at a petrol station, and hearing about my sister's exploits and her law degree. However, after I managed to get a word in, I told her I was going to University in Brighton, to do Sports Coaching, she seemed rather pleased!
"You'll love it! Brighton is an awesome place aswell!"
I liked Mrs.Rush. She was firm but fair, and a very good P.E teacher, but I firmly believe that she still takes the credit for me winning the school tennis tournament in Year 7. I won the final, on a Friday afternoon, (I believe I missed double science for the finals), after being coached by her all year! She was cool though.
Another old face from Newnham, was Ms.Swales, who runs the S.E.N department at the school. I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but I spent a fair few months, 1 day a week, volunteering in the S.E.N department back in the day where I thought I wanted to become a Primary school teacher. These were a few months before things started to fall apart at the seams, but she did still recognise me. However, once again, she seemed a bit disappointed at hearing I was not at University, but instead at some crappy BP station, and she had gone before I had a chance to tell her I am going!
This is the thing though. My idea of ambition is gambling upon going to University, whereas that seems like the normal thing to do for a young person these days. My ideas of ambition are anyone else's idea of normality, which leads me to think where this lack of ambition may lead me. Am I going to spend the rest of my life in averageness, or is there going to be a stage in my life where I seriously jump in at the deep end, with both feet? Only time will tell I suppose!
It's difficult to fathom just how much my Sister has achieved since she left school herself. She spent 3 Summers in Camp America, in the time she wasn't getting her Law degree, working her way up to Team Leader, she's travelled to Australia and spent a fair while working Down Under, and now she has gone to a place that she knows little about, where the culture must be extraordinarily out of her comfort zone. I don't know how she does it. Part of me does feel like I need to match her though, and I know that this won't happen. I know it sounds ridiculous.
And here I am, awake in the very early hours, again, waiting for something to come to me. Classic Mitten. I have yet to learn the lesson of life, and seeing as I'm in my 20's now, I don't have long left to learn. University, I believe, however difficult it may be, will be the turning point. I just wish I buck my ideas up enough to achieve something there.
Tuesday 21 June 2011
Empty
It seems the ability to go to bed before the mad hour of 2am has completely deserted me. Even after a busy 8-hour shift on Sunday afternoon, in which I returned home from in a state of disrepair, as if I'd ran a marathon, I didn't get to sleep until 3am, and I fear that my night tonight is heading in the same direction. I failed at attempting to get to sleep earlier, at the stupidly early hour of 12.30am, in the same way I failed at attempting my IT exam due to the misdemeanours of alcohol, and now I find myself awake with the owls and insomniacs. As usual.
Today was your typical example of a middle-aged man's average day. Not that I am one. Wake up, (albeit at a silly hour of the afternoon), go to work, stand behind a till wistfully looking at a relatively empty forecourt and store, purchase a meal for one, cook said meal, eat said meal, and sit on the internet playing random games and watching stand-up comedy, including Al Murray's versions of Hell. You couldn't get more average than that. I had a bit of a down stage earlier aswell. A couple of hours before leaving to work, I was sat upstairs, not doing a lot, just thinking. Shouldn't do a lot of that. It hurts my brain.
Strangely enough, my mood got better as I got to work, as me and Cool Will rated girls out of 10 as they walked in the door. I know. "How immature!", you may be thinking, and you'd probably be right, but you need to find ways of passing the time somehow, and seeing as it was as quiet as a mime artist all evening, we definitely needed to shift the clock along. Even a light-hearted chat about my upcoming university venture to Brighton, inevitably including the fact that Brighton is the "gay capital of the UK", a joke of which I have started to get bored of!
Very surprisingly, despite it only being a few months away, I haven't really thought about university that much. I think it's probably because I've had so long to think about, it's almost exhausted as a subject, and now, around the time I do need to start thinking about preparing, I've just lost all the enthusiasm. Well, that's a lie. I am still as excited as I was, but all of a sudden, the reality that my life will change in a few months is starting to take effect... I'm even starting to feel a little nervous... Really?
Anyway. Day off tomorrow, that I will no doubt sleep through before attending the weekly Tuesday night pub quiz, in which we will win nothing. How fun.
Today was your typical example of a middle-aged man's average day. Not that I am one. Wake up, (albeit at a silly hour of the afternoon), go to work, stand behind a till wistfully looking at a relatively empty forecourt and store, purchase a meal for one, cook said meal, eat said meal, and sit on the internet playing random games and watching stand-up comedy, including Al Murray's versions of Hell. You couldn't get more average than that. I had a bit of a down stage earlier aswell. A couple of hours before leaving to work, I was sat upstairs, not doing a lot, just thinking. Shouldn't do a lot of that. It hurts my brain.
Strangely enough, my mood got better as I got to work, as me and Cool Will rated girls out of 10 as they walked in the door. I know. "How immature!", you may be thinking, and you'd probably be right, but you need to find ways of passing the time somehow, and seeing as it was as quiet as a mime artist all evening, we definitely needed to shift the clock along. Even a light-hearted chat about my upcoming university venture to Brighton, inevitably including the fact that Brighton is the "gay capital of the UK", a joke of which I have started to get bored of!
Very surprisingly, despite it only being a few months away, I haven't really thought about university that much. I think it's probably because I've had so long to think about, it's almost exhausted as a subject, and now, around the time I do need to start thinking about preparing, I've just lost all the enthusiasm. Well, that's a lie. I am still as excited as I was, but all of a sudden, the reality that my life will change in a few months is starting to take effect... I'm even starting to feel a little nervous... Really?
Anyway. Day off tomorrow, that I will no doubt sleep through before attending the weekly Tuesday night pub quiz, in which we will win nothing. How fun.
Sunday 19 June 2011
The Afternoon After the Night Before
Oh dear, Friday night. In what had been dubbed 'The End of Ellie Goulding's Tour', I feared that my now famous lack of money, plus the fact that I had to be at work the next day, may mean a quiet night in terms of antics and ridiculousness. I should really know by now, that rarely a night out goes by without a massive amount of insane acts, (obviously caught on camera), being... acted.
This time, we met at Beddoe's for a rather quiet pre-drinks in where Mother Beddoe showed off her Rod Stewart trousers, much to the embarrassment of her son! Father Beddoe had long hobbled upstairs on his crutches, but she left us to it after a while and after a couple of JD and diet coke's and vodka and oranges with bits in, we left Kettle behind, (much to our dismay), and went on our way. I was a little bit tipsy, as were some of the others, and I was determined to forget about work for the night, and just enjoy myself.
Once again, after a few drinks were inside me, I seemed to forget that I was alive at all, let alone had work the next day. Seeing as I knew the guy behind the bar, I decided to show off a little bit and order 4 of the 12 Jaegerbombs that I had last night, which set me on the road. I decided to go for the, "Lets Go Mental" approach, without going as far as I had done in previous times, and by the time we left Chameleon, I was already stumbling and was pleasently drunk, followed not far behind by Beddoe and Trainee Waster Goulding! After sharing a 'Scrubs Vanilla Bear' moment with Ashley Field, who works at Embassy, we made our way to Saints. Incidentally, you know you go out too much when you get to know the people working at these places, personally.
What happened in Saints, (THE Bedford night club, apparently), was nothing short of incredible. I have yet to see the photos, but when they do turn up, I imagine them to be rather embarrassing, not just for me, but for many people. I blame Billie, as she was wreaking havoc with her camera, and I feel sorry for the camera as it must have felt violated to take pictures of what was nothing short of a free-for-all. Oh dear.
I think I got a taxi home at around the 3am mark, trying desperately to not be sick as we were driving home, and although the usual schedule means a bit of light-hearted, drunken facebooking after a night out, I simply set my alarm for 1.15pm, and collapsed, fully clothed, on my bed.
The next thing I knew, the incredibly loud and annoying alarm was wailing and I had to get up for what was going to be the longest and most painful shift of my life. For some reason, I had gone around telling people I had to be at work for 6am the night before, but luckily, this was not the case. Today's shift was as slow as the car I had to sit behind on my journey. Impossibly slow, and when the clock said 5.30, I thought I was going home already. And I wasn't even half way through! Sigh...
Same again tomorrow. Think of the money..
This time, we met at Beddoe's for a rather quiet pre-drinks in where Mother Beddoe showed off her Rod Stewart trousers, much to the embarrassment of her son! Father Beddoe had long hobbled upstairs on his crutches, but she left us to it after a while and after a couple of JD and diet coke's and vodka and oranges with bits in, we left Kettle behind, (much to our dismay), and went on our way. I was a little bit tipsy, as were some of the others, and I was determined to forget about work for the night, and just enjoy myself.
Once again, after a few drinks were inside me, I seemed to forget that I was alive at all, let alone had work the next day. Seeing as I knew the guy behind the bar, I decided to show off a little bit and order 4 of the 12 Jaegerbombs that I had last night, which set me on the road. I decided to go for the, "Lets Go Mental" approach, without going as far as I had done in previous times, and by the time we left Chameleon, I was already stumbling and was pleasently drunk, followed not far behind by Beddoe and Trainee Waster Goulding! After sharing a 'Scrubs Vanilla Bear' moment with Ashley Field, who works at Embassy, we made our way to Saints. Incidentally, you know you go out too much when you get to know the people working at these places, personally.
What happened in Saints, (THE Bedford night club, apparently), was nothing short of incredible. I have yet to see the photos, but when they do turn up, I imagine them to be rather embarrassing, not just for me, but for many people. I blame Billie, as she was wreaking havoc with her camera, and I feel sorry for the camera as it must have felt violated to take pictures of what was nothing short of a free-for-all. Oh dear.
I think I got a taxi home at around the 3am mark, trying desperately to not be sick as we were driving home, and although the usual schedule means a bit of light-hearted, drunken facebooking after a night out, I simply set my alarm for 1.15pm, and collapsed, fully clothed, on my bed.
The next thing I knew, the incredibly loud and annoying alarm was wailing and I had to get up for what was going to be the longest and most painful shift of my life. For some reason, I had gone around telling people I had to be at work for 6am the night before, but luckily, this was not the case. Today's shift was as slow as the car I had to sit behind on my journey. Impossibly slow, and when the clock said 5.30, I thought I was going home already. And I wasn't even half way through! Sigh...
Same again tomorrow. Think of the money..
Friday 17 June 2011
It's A Long Day Being Stalked
As I sit here, listening to 'Sultans of Swing' by Dire Straits, reflecting on what has been a long and tiresome day in the "Berp", and contemplating a busier than usual day tomorrow, I can't help but feel my life may JUST be taking a step in the right direction.
Of course, it's all because Summer does bring out the best in me. It may not feel like Summer at the moment, with the low temperatures and drizzle hanging around like a billy no-mates at school, but nothing can beat this time of year. The potential for good weather at least, plus the fact that all of your friends are back from their university ventures, planning this, that and the other, whether it be lazy days in the park or full-on waster sessions, can only end in good results. Even when sometimes all I want to do is lay in bed and sleep it away.
The last couple of days has been spent doing some quick mental arithmetic, as I struggle to work out whether or not I can afford to go on this planned golfing holiday, that looks more certain than not to go ahead. The meer fact that it's been at least 10 years since I've been abroad anywhere, with the scene of a hustle and bustle airport still a dream in my mind, is enough to get the heart racing at the prospect. And that's just the travelling! I am DESPERATE to go on this holiday, and I am determined to do what I can to get a seat on that plane. I make it sound like a competition... I suppose it is a competition... Against my own bank balance. I have less than £100 to play with now, with £20 due to be spent simply getting drunk tomorrow plus the fact I still need to buy Father Mitten something for Sunday.. It all disappears so quickly.. Financially then, I am on the ropes, with a severe cut under my left eye and legs wobbling. Money wise, I am under the cosh.
None of this is helped by the fact that my passport expired about 6 years ago. With a picture of me with the 1996 David Beckham hairstyle. Of course, this is only more money to be spent, plus an appointment in Peterborough which will take time, money and effort. I am starting to see the reasons why people think even going on holiday is more stress than it is worth!
And what about today you may or may not be asking? Well, after going to sleep at around 4am, I was awoken by my horrid wailing alarm clock at the meer average hour of 1pm, enough time for me to get ready for my 1st full shift at BP. I wasn't not looking forward to it, but I could definitely think of better places I would rather be. It turned out to be 8 hours of complete and utter averageness that took a long time to disappear, and by 10pm, I was very relieved to walk out the door and leave the night people to get on with it. Even a strange-looking violinist who came in and offered free tickets to his next show, failed to improve the mood of what is a very average job at the best of times. But like I said yesterday, at least I knew exactly what I was doing. I even treated myself to a Burger King after, which given my money situation, was quite possibly the most stupid thing I could of done, and drove home again, attempting to text Watty whilst keeping my eyes on the road and any passing rozzers. Oops.
However, it was not the free violin/fiddle tickets, or the fact it was Moo's birthday that was the most interesting thing about this shift, (if you can call it interesting!) but, just before my break, I got, quite possibly, the most strange and ... disconcerting text, I am ever likely to receive. I have deleted it since, due to the sheer freakiness of it, but it went something along the lines of this:
"Hey, it's Mark K.. I got a text from Hannah saying you want me? How about we meet in Uxbridge for a coffee?"
Say what now?? 1) Who the hell is "Mark K."? ... 2) Who the hell is "Hannah"? ... 3) Where the hell is Uxbridge? and 4) Why on God's green Earth, was this random guy, who's number I did not recognise, texting me asking me out on a date in Uxbridge when, not only did I not know who he was, but strangely enough, he didn't seem to know who I was either! What the hell just happened?! I texted back saying, "I don't know who you are, who Hannah is, and how you got my number, so would appreciate it if you leave me be", and didn't get a reply. Either this guy, severely embarrassed at getting 1 digit wrong in the number he was supposed to send it to, was rather unlucky, or it was a prank of some sort. I imagine it was the latter! Either that or it was a proper stalker... Weird...
Anyway, I won't think about it much longer, and if he does, for some reason, get in contact again, I may just take it to the coppers! Would be good to see some controversy!
As for tomorrow, I have an insanely busy day. The alarm is solidly set for 10am, (Yeah... I know, right?), in a day that involves me taking Kettle to have his arm amputated, cleaning the car to make it look more respectable to sell, going to buy a Father's Day present/card, organising an appointment to get a new passport, (hopefully!), getting time off work so this holiday can happen, (again, hopefully!) all before getting ready to go out on yet another session. Has to be done these days, even in my situation! After having doubts yesterday over whether I can actually afford it, I have figured that Ellie Goulding needs extensive training on how to be a professional waster and I do not want to miss out on what will surely be a night full of story-telling and incident. Even if I do have to go back to the "Berp" on Saturday...
Holy cow! I've just remembered I've got £115 in a savings account!! Score! Definitely going out tomorrow night now! Waking up for 10am though? No, I don't think so either...
Of course, it's all because Summer does bring out the best in me. It may not feel like Summer at the moment, with the low temperatures and drizzle hanging around like a billy no-mates at school, but nothing can beat this time of year. The potential for good weather at least, plus the fact that all of your friends are back from their university ventures, planning this, that and the other, whether it be lazy days in the park or full-on waster sessions, can only end in good results. Even when sometimes all I want to do is lay in bed and sleep it away.
The last couple of days has been spent doing some quick mental arithmetic, as I struggle to work out whether or not I can afford to go on this planned golfing holiday, that looks more certain than not to go ahead. The meer fact that it's been at least 10 years since I've been abroad anywhere, with the scene of a hustle and bustle airport still a dream in my mind, is enough to get the heart racing at the prospect. And that's just the travelling! I am DESPERATE to go on this holiday, and I am determined to do what I can to get a seat on that plane. I make it sound like a competition... I suppose it is a competition... Against my own bank balance. I have less than £100 to play with now, with £20 due to be spent simply getting drunk tomorrow plus the fact I still need to buy Father Mitten something for Sunday.. It all disappears so quickly.. Financially then, I am on the ropes, with a severe cut under my left eye and legs wobbling. Money wise, I am under the cosh.
None of this is helped by the fact that my passport expired about 6 years ago. With a picture of me with the 1996 David Beckham hairstyle. Of course, this is only more money to be spent, plus an appointment in Peterborough which will take time, money and effort. I am starting to see the reasons why people think even going on holiday is more stress than it is worth!
And what about today you may or may not be asking? Well, after going to sleep at around 4am, I was awoken by my horrid wailing alarm clock at the meer average hour of 1pm, enough time for me to get ready for my 1st full shift at BP. I wasn't not looking forward to it, but I could definitely think of better places I would rather be. It turned out to be 8 hours of complete and utter averageness that took a long time to disappear, and by 10pm, I was very relieved to walk out the door and leave the night people to get on with it. Even a strange-looking violinist who came in and offered free tickets to his next show, failed to improve the mood of what is a very average job at the best of times. But like I said yesterday, at least I knew exactly what I was doing. I even treated myself to a Burger King after, which given my money situation, was quite possibly the most stupid thing I could of done, and drove home again, attempting to text Watty whilst keeping my eyes on the road and any passing rozzers. Oops.
However, it was not the free violin/fiddle tickets, or the fact it was Moo's birthday that was the most interesting thing about this shift, (if you can call it interesting!) but, just before my break, I got, quite possibly, the most strange and ... disconcerting text, I am ever likely to receive. I have deleted it since, due to the sheer freakiness of it, but it went something along the lines of this:
"Hey, it's Mark K.. I got a text from Hannah saying you want me? How about we meet in Uxbridge for a coffee?"
Say what now?? 1) Who the hell is "Mark K."? ... 2) Who the hell is "Hannah"? ... 3) Where the hell is Uxbridge? and 4) Why on God's green Earth, was this random guy, who's number I did not recognise, texting me asking me out on a date in Uxbridge when, not only did I not know who he was, but strangely enough, he didn't seem to know who I was either! What the hell just happened?! I texted back saying, "I don't know who you are, who Hannah is, and how you got my number, so would appreciate it if you leave me be", and didn't get a reply. Either this guy, severely embarrassed at getting 1 digit wrong in the number he was supposed to send it to, was rather unlucky, or it was a prank of some sort. I imagine it was the latter! Either that or it was a proper stalker... Weird...
Anyway, I won't think about it much longer, and if he does, for some reason, get in contact again, I may just take it to the coppers! Would be good to see some controversy!
As for tomorrow, I have an insanely busy day. The alarm is solidly set for 10am, (Yeah... I know, right?), in a day that involves me taking Kettle to have his arm amputated, cleaning the car to make it look more respectable to sell, going to buy a Father's Day present/card, organising an appointment to get a new passport, (hopefully!), getting time off work so this holiday can happen, (again, hopefully!) all before getting ready to go out on yet another session. Has to be done these days, even in my situation! After having doubts yesterday over whether I can actually afford it, I have figured that Ellie Goulding needs extensive training on how to be a professional waster and I do not want to miss out on what will surely be a night full of story-telling and incident. Even if I do have to go back to the "Berp" on Saturday...
Holy cow! I've just remembered I've got £115 in a savings account!! Score! Definitely going out tomorrow night now! Waking up for 10am though? No, I don't think so either...
Thursday 16 June 2011
Goodbye Mittenmobile
After 21,000 miles, many skeletons of animals crushed under it's tyres and many a trip round the UK, it's time to say goodbye to the Mittenmobile. Quite frankly, there are only one group of people to blame, and that is politicians.
Despite being on the road for over 2 years without a registered accident or any sort of incident at all, somehow, my insurance quote has gone up £30 per month. And despite the desperate attempts to reduce fuel prices, it is the best part of £50 to fill up the tank of this beautiful and faithful machine nowadays, which begs the question. Is there a point for me to own a car?
Great, I'll be able to get to places, but I won't have any money to spend at these places, which means the fact that I own a car becomes completely redundant. My new hours at BP are by no means certain, (only 8 certain hours a week), so what's the point in spending nearly £200 a month on a car, when there's only roughly £200 a month coming in through the letterbox. I'd end up driving to and from work, and nothing else. And seeing as there is a Summer ahead of us, with many opportunities of fun and enjoyment, I honestly think the decision is an easy one. I really should of thought about this earlier!
However, the reason I didn't do this earlier comes down to the fact that I am not forceful enough when expressing my opinion. Any discussion had between myself and the Parents Mitten ends up with me accepting their point of view as I try to avoid any disagreement and potential argument over the matter, due to my brain being too sensitive. We have had this discussion before, after all. Whether or not I should keep it, and I feel that the only reason Mother Mitten wanted me to keep it, is that it is a useful tool for her to use, despite me paying for all the monthly costs. I am however wary of the fact that they have spent a fair amount of money getting a new clutch and exhaust for the thing, and now I'm deciding to sell it...
I do already have a couple of interested buyers, so I presume it will be gone within a week or 2. My bike, (despite having an open hatred of cyclists), will certainly get more use as I trek to and from work, but otherwise, I will be doing what all of my friends have done to me over the past 2 years, and beg for lifts everywhere. I reckon though, after the amount of driving around I've done for certain people, I am owed a few!
On another subject, I spent my first 5 hours in daylight at the new BP, and I have to say I kind of enjoyed it... Well, Ok... I didn't ENJOY it as such, but it was certainly bearable. At least I know EXACTLY what I'm doing, 100% of the time, which makes it much easier. And as an added bonus, you don't need knowledge of 5 man tents, polyester sleeping bags and gas bottles! Well, that's a lie actually, as BP do actually sell gas.. But I'll deal with that problem when it comes! Tomorrow sees me stand behind a till for 8 hours and despite working with the cheeriest person on the planet, the ultimate hard worker and a lad who's on cloud nine at the moment, I still imagine it to be ridiculously boring.
Oh well.
Despite being on the road for over 2 years without a registered accident or any sort of incident at all, somehow, my insurance quote has gone up £30 per month. And despite the desperate attempts to reduce fuel prices, it is the best part of £50 to fill up the tank of this beautiful and faithful machine nowadays, which begs the question. Is there a point for me to own a car?
Great, I'll be able to get to places, but I won't have any money to spend at these places, which means the fact that I own a car becomes completely redundant. My new hours at BP are by no means certain, (only 8 certain hours a week), so what's the point in spending nearly £200 a month on a car, when there's only roughly £200 a month coming in through the letterbox. I'd end up driving to and from work, and nothing else. And seeing as there is a Summer ahead of us, with many opportunities of fun and enjoyment, I honestly think the decision is an easy one. I really should of thought about this earlier!
However, the reason I didn't do this earlier comes down to the fact that I am not forceful enough when expressing my opinion. Any discussion had between myself and the Parents Mitten ends up with me accepting their point of view as I try to avoid any disagreement and potential argument over the matter, due to my brain being too sensitive. We have had this discussion before, after all. Whether or not I should keep it, and I feel that the only reason Mother Mitten wanted me to keep it, is that it is a useful tool for her to use, despite me paying for all the monthly costs. I am however wary of the fact that they have spent a fair amount of money getting a new clutch and exhaust for the thing, and now I'm deciding to sell it...
I do already have a couple of interested buyers, so I presume it will be gone within a week or 2. My bike, (despite having an open hatred of cyclists), will certainly get more use as I trek to and from work, but otherwise, I will be doing what all of my friends have done to me over the past 2 years, and beg for lifts everywhere. I reckon though, after the amount of driving around I've done for certain people, I am owed a few!
On another subject, I spent my first 5 hours in daylight at the new BP, and I have to say I kind of enjoyed it... Well, Ok... I didn't ENJOY it as such, but it was certainly bearable. At least I know EXACTLY what I'm doing, 100% of the time, which makes it much easier. And as an added bonus, you don't need knowledge of 5 man tents, polyester sleeping bags and gas bottles! Well, that's a lie actually, as BP do actually sell gas.. But I'll deal with that problem when it comes! Tomorrow sees me stand behind a till for 8 hours and despite working with the cheeriest person on the planet, the ultimate hard worker and a lad who's on cloud nine at the moment, I still imagine it to be ridiculously boring.
Oh well.
Tuesday 14 June 2011
The Basketball Freak
'Freak' is an incredibly harsh word to use, to be fair. It isn't as if this young man turned into The Hulk or was half rabbit, half dolphin, but it was possibly one of the most awkward moments of the year so far. Unless you count Saggers doing his best impression of Jeremy Kyle.. Or Saggers asking incredibly... personal questions in the cab on Saturday night... Oh Saggers....
Anyway, back to today. After the epicness of the weekend, I suppose we had to keep the fun times going for as long as possible, so a swiftly arranged parkage was decided upon quite late in the day, (which helped my sleeping pattern), and we met at the famous Park of the Sand and sat around doing not a lot! Activities included concrete volleyball, "60" and Bully Billie which I refused to get involved in as I'm a good little Mitten... Ahem... Many drives were taken all over the marvellous town we live in, including a trip to McDonalds where I spent money I don't really have on not one, but 2 McDonalds, and then we decided to go to Bedford Park, where we had a rather poor quality game of Basketball, that turned incredibly "hawkward" after a while...
There was this guy. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans but wearing black gloves, which was a tad odd. Upon entering the park, where me and Beddoe almost had our necks broken by a vigorous pushing session by Mason and Magic Man on this weird swing thing, we played a game of 3v2 B-Ball, which is where the fun started... I heard a voice saying something, (although I couldn't really hear what... I was IN THE ZONE!), but after a while the voice got louder and he started approaching us..
You know you secretly have that little debate with yourself? Half of you wishes he would just walk in the opposite direction, but the other half wonders what mental condition he's got, and whether it's safe enough to approach him without being seized. Either that, or you can work out in a couple of minutes whether or not he's going to be a child-snatcher when he's older.. Or, seeing as we're all 20, (or near enough), whether he already is one! He was hanging around a park on his own after all.. Anyway, the game sort of stopped as we all awkwardly walked around in circles like we were all in a game of 'The Sims', then I thought, "fuck this", threw the ball at this randomer and ran. Taking the easy option out! This sort of left Beddoe and Kettle to negotiate the awkwardness with the strange man before slowly making their way out of the park and towards us, with rather disgruntled faces on! Never trust a man wearing gloves in Summer...
After a bit of football, where Kettle failed at goalkeeping and the human post moved a lot, we headed home, and ever since then, barring a trip to Tesco's, (again, with money I don't have.... I really should stop this...), I have been sitting here listening to Arnold Schwarzenegger quotes and making funny pictures of ambulances with my face on the side...
I think I need September, fast.
Anyway, back to today. After the epicness of the weekend, I suppose we had to keep the fun times going for as long as possible, so a swiftly arranged parkage was decided upon quite late in the day, (which helped my sleeping pattern), and we met at the famous Park of the Sand and sat around doing not a lot! Activities included concrete volleyball, "60" and Bully Billie which I refused to get involved in as I'm a good little Mitten... Ahem... Many drives were taken all over the marvellous town we live in, including a trip to McDonalds where I spent money I don't really have on not one, but 2 McDonalds, and then we decided to go to Bedford Park, where we had a rather poor quality game of Basketball, that turned incredibly "hawkward" after a while...
There was this guy. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans but wearing black gloves, which was a tad odd. Upon entering the park, where me and Beddoe almost had our necks broken by a vigorous pushing session by Mason and Magic Man on this weird swing thing, we played a game of 3v2 B-Ball, which is where the fun started... I heard a voice saying something, (although I couldn't really hear what... I was IN THE ZONE!), but after a while the voice got louder and he started approaching us..
You know you secretly have that little debate with yourself? Half of you wishes he would just walk in the opposite direction, but the other half wonders what mental condition he's got, and whether it's safe enough to approach him without being seized. Either that, or you can work out in a couple of minutes whether or not he's going to be a child-snatcher when he's older.. Or, seeing as we're all 20, (or near enough), whether he already is one! He was hanging around a park on his own after all.. Anyway, the game sort of stopped as we all awkwardly walked around in circles like we were all in a game of 'The Sims', then I thought, "fuck this", threw the ball at this randomer and ran. Taking the easy option out! This sort of left Beddoe and Kettle to negotiate the awkwardness with the strange man before slowly making their way out of the park and towards us, with rather disgruntled faces on! Never trust a man wearing gloves in Summer...
After a bit of football, where Kettle failed at goalkeeping and the human post moved a lot, we headed home, and ever since then, barring a trip to Tesco's, (again, with money I don't have.... I really should stop this...), I have been sitting here listening to Arnold Schwarzenegger quotes and making funny pictures of ambulances with my face on the side...
I think I need September, fast.
Monday 13 June 2011
BTW
There is only one word I can use for this weekend. Immense. Immense in many senses of the word. Full of immense goodness, immensely drunken people, and immensely frightful sights. The perfect recipe for a weekend.
First off though, the weekend started in a bit of a dull vain, as I was asked to work from 10pm-2am on the Friday night shift. I was asked to work all night, but I did have to be awake by 7am, so offered as much as I could! It was sort of strange, being back at BP. Things have changed. So much so, that BP now closes at 1am which, I imagine, would make the rushing around completely needless! Somehow I managed to enjoy working those 4 hours. I picked things up immediately from where I left off 4 months ago, and worked with Medinat, who was nice enough, but I didn't really feel guilty leaving her alone for a few hours when I went home! Besides, despite being in a strangely fantastic mood, I did have to be awake in a few hours for the 2nd instalment of the weekend.
Which was, refereeing! It had been a couple of months since I had donned the black of the football referee, but the BPR tournament came-a-calling and seeing as the bank balance is struggling, the £25 for a few hours jogging came in handy! Unfortunately, I was stuck on the Under 11s, which was extremely dull, with absolutely no incident of any sort, (unlike the Under 16s where Elliot sent off 2 players in his very first game!), and I was pleased to be going home at 12:45, many pounds better off, (financially and weight-wise seeing as the burgers were free for referees!), I was driving home for the next, and arguably most successful, stage of the day. Cricket!
My own club, Bedford, didn't have a game, so I offered my services for Riseley, who are a team my uncle and cousin used to play for, and also the team my Sunday captain plays for on Saturdays! I only knew a few of the players, who I had played with before, but by the end everyone knew my name and most probably thought I was the next best thing, after the innings I played! My fellow opening batting partner got out in the very first over followed by our Number 3 who whacked a few decent boundaries before being bowled, leaving us 30-odd for 2 after 6 overs. I had a very slow start, just blocking and hitting away the odd bad ball for a couple. I felt good though, and after my recent frustration at getting out in the 20s, I had a feeling that today I could at least go on to get my first half-century of the season. I reached my 50 in 56 balls, (somehow), and from then on, there was only one place I was going to go, and that was The Land of Tons. Everything was coming off the middle of the bat, but I refused to lose my head and try and hit everything out the park. I hit away the bad balls with ease and respected the good balls, and slowly but surely, (with an acceleration at the end), I made my way to my 2nd career century! I only played and missed at one ball, (when I was in the 90s), and only edged, (or "Mitten Cutted"), 2 balls including the boundary that took me to my 100! 21 boundaries, and after only getting a few hours sleep and then refereeing the whole morning, my legs were like jelly. But I was very, very pleased with my performance. A final score of 119 is now the benchmark that I would like to beat come the end of the season. That is my new target. I think this innings, (apart from the amount of runs), beat my first century, because the bowling had a bit about it. Last time, they just put it up there to hit, but yesterday, there were slower balls, bouncers, a bit of pace and a decent enough spinner, and I was pleased to negotiate them all with a good technique! Even when fielding, I took a decent slip catch and we won by 90 runs in the end, so a very good day's work!
We were playing at Bedford Park, of which there are 2 cricket pitches. On the other pitch, the most extraordinary and frightful fight broke out between 2 Asian teams. Apparently, the bowler had punched the umpire who had refused an LBW shout, and all hell had broken loose. Our game stopped momentarily as a full scale war broke out, with players wielding bats and stumps and attempting to kill each other with them. Absolute craziness over a game of what is essentially, village cricket.
Anyway! After our comprehensive win, in which I gave myself the hypothetical man of the match award, I made my way home, incredibly tired but with a smile on my face, to get ready for the final instalment of what had already been a fantastic Saturday. I was almost on the floor, but my philosophy for the weekend was to keep going and going and going, and enjoy everything it had to offer. I was not going to give up because of tiredness. I had an hour to get ready and drink a few cans of .... 'Kick', before the kids came round to kick off what was going to be a very good night!
Honestly, for the first time in recent memory, I can't be bothered to tell this blog about the ins and outs of the whole night. All you need to know, is that we stole some Indian dude's glasses, Marriott was the drunkest I've ever seen him, Beddoe ended up half-naked under the traditional laws of Bedford-based nights out, and Saggers couldn't remember where he lived. Otherwise, it was a very good night, but I was very happy to reach my bed at 3am, and collapse.
I woke up at 4.30pm... So I imagine it's going to be a rather long night. But this weekend.... Definitely a BTW. Big Time Weekend!
First off though, the weekend started in a bit of a dull vain, as I was asked to work from 10pm-2am on the Friday night shift. I was asked to work all night, but I did have to be awake by 7am, so offered as much as I could! It was sort of strange, being back at BP. Things have changed. So much so, that BP now closes at 1am which, I imagine, would make the rushing around completely needless! Somehow I managed to enjoy working those 4 hours. I picked things up immediately from where I left off 4 months ago, and worked with Medinat, who was nice enough, but I didn't really feel guilty leaving her alone for a few hours when I went home! Besides, despite being in a strangely fantastic mood, I did have to be awake in a few hours for the 2nd instalment of the weekend.
Which was, refereeing! It had been a couple of months since I had donned the black of the football referee, but the BPR tournament came-a-calling and seeing as the bank balance is struggling, the £25 for a few hours jogging came in handy! Unfortunately, I was stuck on the Under 11s, which was extremely dull, with absolutely no incident of any sort, (unlike the Under 16s where Elliot sent off 2 players in his very first game!), and I was pleased to be going home at 12:45, many pounds better off, (financially and weight-wise seeing as the burgers were free for referees!), I was driving home for the next, and arguably most successful, stage of the day. Cricket!
My own club, Bedford, didn't have a game, so I offered my services for Riseley, who are a team my uncle and cousin used to play for, and also the team my Sunday captain plays for on Saturdays! I only knew a few of the players, who I had played with before, but by the end everyone knew my name and most probably thought I was the next best thing, after the innings I played! My fellow opening batting partner got out in the very first over followed by our Number 3 who whacked a few decent boundaries before being bowled, leaving us 30-odd for 2 after 6 overs. I had a very slow start, just blocking and hitting away the odd bad ball for a couple. I felt good though, and after my recent frustration at getting out in the 20s, I had a feeling that today I could at least go on to get my first half-century of the season. I reached my 50 in 56 balls, (somehow), and from then on, there was only one place I was going to go, and that was The Land of Tons. Everything was coming off the middle of the bat, but I refused to lose my head and try and hit everything out the park. I hit away the bad balls with ease and respected the good balls, and slowly but surely, (with an acceleration at the end), I made my way to my 2nd career century! I only played and missed at one ball, (when I was in the 90s), and only edged, (or "Mitten Cutted"), 2 balls including the boundary that took me to my 100! 21 boundaries, and after only getting a few hours sleep and then refereeing the whole morning, my legs were like jelly. But I was very, very pleased with my performance. A final score of 119 is now the benchmark that I would like to beat come the end of the season. That is my new target. I think this innings, (apart from the amount of runs), beat my first century, because the bowling had a bit about it. Last time, they just put it up there to hit, but yesterday, there were slower balls, bouncers, a bit of pace and a decent enough spinner, and I was pleased to negotiate them all with a good technique! Even when fielding, I took a decent slip catch and we won by 90 runs in the end, so a very good day's work!
We were playing at Bedford Park, of which there are 2 cricket pitches. On the other pitch, the most extraordinary and frightful fight broke out between 2 Asian teams. Apparently, the bowler had punched the umpire who had refused an LBW shout, and all hell had broken loose. Our game stopped momentarily as a full scale war broke out, with players wielding bats and stumps and attempting to kill each other with them. Absolute craziness over a game of what is essentially, village cricket.
Anyway! After our comprehensive win, in which I gave myself the hypothetical man of the match award, I made my way home, incredibly tired but with a smile on my face, to get ready for the final instalment of what had already been a fantastic Saturday. I was almost on the floor, but my philosophy for the weekend was to keep going and going and going, and enjoy everything it had to offer. I was not going to give up because of tiredness. I had an hour to get ready and drink a few cans of .... 'Kick', before the kids came round to kick off what was going to be a very good night!
Honestly, for the first time in recent memory, I can't be bothered to tell this blog about the ins and outs of the whole night. All you need to know, is that we stole some Indian dude's glasses, Marriott was the drunkest I've ever seen him, Beddoe ended up half-naked under the traditional laws of Bedford-based nights out, and Saggers couldn't remember where he lived. Otherwise, it was a very good night, but I was very happy to reach my bed at 3am, and collapse.
I woke up at 4.30pm... So I imagine it's going to be a rather long night. But this weekend.... Definitely a BTW. Big Time Weekend!
Thursday 9 June 2011
20 Going on 12
Before I start, a possible apology to Master Beddoe, (getting pissed in "that" club in Manchester as we speak), as I feel this blog post may go down the road to negativity once more, despite your feedback!
The last few days have been rather void of activity. So much so that I have resorted to going back to the daft sleeping pattern that means I am writing in here, once more, at the ridiculous time of 02:38. Everyone has drifted off to bed, and rightly so, leaving me, completely awake, wondering at what to do. And you know how the old saying goes. If you're bored, write a blog. After my last generic post about nothingness, I feel the need to at least update my few readers on what (has not) been happening in the life of Mitten recently. For some reason...
A couple of things have concerned me in the last few days. One being that sometimes I do feel like I really am too lazy for my own good. How many 20 year olds, who aren't at university at least, wake up the wrong side of midday to sit on their laptop eating Rocky bars all day? Not many I bet, which makes me feel completely unrespectable, before realising I do in fact have a job that I am starting next Tuesday. It is times like this, with the "summer holidays" coming up, where I wish I was back in Year 7 again. Nothing to worry about apart from hayfever and summer football tournaments. Yes, I did get my job back at BP, despite not being many hours. On the plus side, I will be working mostly days this time round. I hope...
Secondly is my organisational skills. Boring? Maybe. But my plan for this coming weekend has changed more times than an uncertain Gok Wan, and this isn't a good thing. My original plan was to referee at a football tournament on Saturday and Sunday morning, leaving me to play cricket on both afternoons. However, I got a startling text from CC that revealed we may have an audition for an ITV2 gameshow this weekend, which led me to re-evaluate my priorities. I cancelled cricket on the Saturday, leaving my refereeing just in case, leaving a potential gap for a trip to London. However, this never materialised, meaning I was available for cricket again on a Saturday, but then I found out the match had been called off so made myself available to referee all day on Saturday, and attempted to cancel Sunday morning so I could go out on the town with returning university friends, but then only got offered Saturday morning as a compromise. The final schedule is refereeing Saturday morning, playing cricket for some random team on Saturday afternoon as a favour, going out on Saturday night, (now with limited funds), probably recovering on Sunday morning before usual cricket on Sunday. Very little refereeing and no gameshow audition. Understand that? No, me neither. Best get my act together, in more ways than one..
I have also accepted my first pre-season friendly for refereeing, from a team I get on quite well with. I won't be missing any cricket for that luckily, and, for now at least, I am quite looking forward to it.
However, I can't escape from the fact that I am looking forward to university now, possibly more than I have ever done for anything else in my life, ever. I have started talking to a few people who are going to Brighton University next year and they all seem like great people! Plus, it will give me something prolonged and certain to concentrate on whilst being respectable at the same time. I don't know what it is with me about, "being respectable"...
I honestly don't have anything else to say. I have literally nothing planned until the weekend, which I hope will be a "big time weekend". Until then, boredom ensues.
The last few days have been rather void of activity. So much so that I have resorted to going back to the daft sleeping pattern that means I am writing in here, once more, at the ridiculous time of 02:38. Everyone has drifted off to bed, and rightly so, leaving me, completely awake, wondering at what to do. And you know how the old saying goes. If you're bored, write a blog. After my last generic post about nothingness, I feel the need to at least update my few readers on what (has not) been happening in the life of Mitten recently. For some reason...
A couple of things have concerned me in the last few days. One being that sometimes I do feel like I really am too lazy for my own good. How many 20 year olds, who aren't at university at least, wake up the wrong side of midday to sit on their laptop eating Rocky bars all day? Not many I bet, which makes me feel completely unrespectable, before realising I do in fact have a job that I am starting next Tuesday. It is times like this, with the "summer holidays" coming up, where I wish I was back in Year 7 again. Nothing to worry about apart from hayfever and summer football tournaments. Yes, I did get my job back at BP, despite not being many hours. On the plus side, I will be working mostly days this time round. I hope...
Secondly is my organisational skills. Boring? Maybe. But my plan for this coming weekend has changed more times than an uncertain Gok Wan, and this isn't a good thing. My original plan was to referee at a football tournament on Saturday and Sunday morning, leaving me to play cricket on both afternoons. However, I got a startling text from CC that revealed we may have an audition for an ITV2 gameshow this weekend, which led me to re-evaluate my priorities. I cancelled cricket on the Saturday, leaving my refereeing just in case, leaving a potential gap for a trip to London. However, this never materialised, meaning I was available for cricket again on a Saturday, but then I found out the match had been called off so made myself available to referee all day on Saturday, and attempted to cancel Sunday morning so I could go out on the town with returning university friends, but then only got offered Saturday morning as a compromise. The final schedule is refereeing Saturday morning, playing cricket for some random team on Saturday afternoon as a favour, going out on Saturday night, (now with limited funds), probably recovering on Sunday morning before usual cricket on Sunday. Very little refereeing and no gameshow audition. Understand that? No, me neither. Best get my act together, in more ways than one..
I have also accepted my first pre-season friendly for refereeing, from a team I get on quite well with. I won't be missing any cricket for that luckily, and, for now at least, I am quite looking forward to it.
However, I can't escape from the fact that I am looking forward to university now, possibly more than I have ever done for anything else in my life, ever. I have started talking to a few people who are going to Brighton University next year and they all seem like great people! Plus, it will give me something prolonged and certain to concentrate on whilst being respectable at the same time. I don't know what it is with me about, "being respectable"...
I honestly don't have anything else to say. I have literally nothing planned until the weekend, which I hope will be a "big time weekend". Until then, boredom ensues.
Tuesday 7 June 2011
10 Things I Hate
1. Gyms: Seriously people. Seriously. Why do people pay £35 per month, (or more), to use ridiculously shaped machines that make you perform silly actions and generally, make you look like an idiot. Why? What is the attraction to spending hours in a room where there is no one to talk to about normal subjects, wasting away your life pumping away on a rowing machine that goes nowhere. Maybe it's the professional help that people get? But, even so, these "professionals" turn up with a name like Brad, in a t-shirt 3 sizes too small for them, making them look like the next Hulk, and give you exercises that you will never ever need to repeat in any life situation. It's almost like the 'Reversing Round a Corner' manouevre whilst learning how to drive. Who uses that in real life?! I can see why people like to keep fit and healthy, but surely there are cheaper and less mind-destroying ways to do it?
2. Camping: I know. I know. I know EXACTLY what you're all thinking, but bear in mind I bullshitted my way into that job without thinking what I would actually have to be doing. I spoke a load of crap to get a job that PAID MONEY, and then realised I had made the most stupid mistake that mankind has to offer. I despise camping, and anyone who enjoys it. Where is the fun in pitching up a tent in gale force conditions and driving rain, whilst being as cold as if you were somewhere within the Arctic Circle, arguing with the other morons who decided that this trip may be, "fun". After you have created something that may be considered 'homely' in the outer regions of Mongolia, you run out of options of things to do that doesn't involve a toilet or walking many, many miles. Which begs the question, what exactly do you do on a camping trip...? Exactly.
3. Bullshitters: You all know the type. The sort of person who thinks they can show off by claiming they are the next big thing, or they have just bought the new top-of-the-range car or just slept with an Eastern European model, despite having the appearance of a llama that's been turned inside out, themselves. I know a few people like this. They infuriate the hell out of me, yet I don't have the bollocks to tell them to shut the hell up, which I suppose is the reason why they continue! But surely they can't think we believe them? We're not idiots!
4. The Attitudes of the Older Generation: The last few years, young people have had bad press shoved into their faces by the national media, thus creating a bad image that older generations seem to believe. The notion that anyone under the age of 25 is a swearing, binge-drinking bastard with jeans round their ankles and of course it's completely untrue. I walked through town a few days back, casually walking around. Dressed normally, not speaking "chav" to my friend, and seemingly not holding any can of Fosters or, low and behold, a bottle of Relentless, so why were we being avoided like the plague? Seriously! You're supposed to be the responsible adults, so stop being stupid.
5. Geoffrey Boycott: Strange one this, because before today I didn't mind the guy. But I was watching the cricket highlights earlier, in which England seemed to grab back some of the initiative from Sri Lanka, but all I could hear was this stupid, complaining Yorkshireman repeating the same line of commentary for 45 minutes, (before I left for a curry!) I have only just worked out that he infuriates me! "Corridor of Uncertente, bowl at the 4th stoomp, ba' proply, that's absolute roobish", just shut up, you ridiculous man. Bring Bumble to free-to-air TV, now that's commentary!
6. Political Correctness: The stupidity of political correctness. The fact that you can't assume that every terrorist is Asian, despite it being obvious. Most of you are reading that thinking, "Ohhh you can't say that", but it's true. Look at every news report involving a terrorist attack or attempted bombing, and all the suspects are Asian, (and sometimes from Luton!) It's fact.
7. Dubstep: I've changed my mind on this particular subject. I've always believed that dubstep should be banned from all clubs, based around the fact you CANNOT dance to dubstep. How can you dance to noise? For that is what it is. Noise. It's called a 'dancefloor' for a reason, not a 'standandlistentonoisefloor'. However, I used to think dubstep was alright to listen to on long car journies, for some reason, but I have now taken the same stance as I do with the clubs. It is just noise, not music. In fact, it shouldn't even be classed as 'noise', but instead 'The Hoff vomiting'. It is exactly what it sounds like.
8. Football Fans: I have started to despise avid football fans recently. Not all, just some. Those ones who gloat when they win and gloat when their rivals lose, but somehow when they lose, things suddenly become "unfair" and of course, their loss is blamed on the referee being useless. It's just petty, grow up. It is the reason why I have stopped being a supporter of top-flight football. Being a Man Utd fan somehow makes you a "glory supporter" despite me supporting them since conception. So now, I can't be bothered. Can't be bothered to deal with the people who haven't grown up enough to deal with their team losing in a gracious fashion.
9. Managers: Just generally, managers. Any job I have had, the main manager has been an absolute prick, which begs the question, do you have to become a knob to be successful? My first manager did anything he could to bag success, even if it meant hurting others along the way, my 2nd manager was a perverted, egotistical moron and my 3rd manager, (albeit only for a brief time), was a manager who wanted everyone else to act like him. He even said to me during my interview, "I love every single day I come to work". Bullshit. Absolute dog turd. NO ONE, loves coming to work every day. Unless you are a professional sportsman, or a celebrity of some kind, not one single person loves going to work. Not one. What a fruitloop! (However, the current manager at BP now, is a legend, so maybe this track record is about to end?)
10: Zane Lowe: You know that Radio 1 DJ? The one that speaks so fast that not a single listener can ascertain what he's actually saying? The one who thinks he is a God for finding new music and playing their track on the radio, even if he does speak all over the beginning and end of it? The one who just has one of those faces you could slap without having a guilty conscience afterwards? Yeah, him.
I'm not really sure what possessed me to write all that, but why not!
2. Camping: I know. I know. I know EXACTLY what you're all thinking, but bear in mind I bullshitted my way into that job without thinking what I would actually have to be doing. I spoke a load of crap to get a job that PAID MONEY, and then realised I had made the most stupid mistake that mankind has to offer. I despise camping, and anyone who enjoys it. Where is the fun in pitching up a tent in gale force conditions and driving rain, whilst being as cold as if you were somewhere within the Arctic Circle, arguing with the other morons who decided that this trip may be, "fun". After you have created something that may be considered 'homely' in the outer regions of Mongolia, you run out of options of things to do that doesn't involve a toilet or walking many, many miles. Which begs the question, what exactly do you do on a camping trip...? Exactly.
3. Bullshitters: You all know the type. The sort of person who thinks they can show off by claiming they are the next big thing, or they have just bought the new top-of-the-range car or just slept with an Eastern European model, despite having the appearance of a llama that's been turned inside out, themselves. I know a few people like this. They infuriate the hell out of me, yet I don't have the bollocks to tell them to shut the hell up, which I suppose is the reason why they continue! But surely they can't think we believe them? We're not idiots!
4. The Attitudes of the Older Generation: The last few years, young people have had bad press shoved into their faces by the national media, thus creating a bad image that older generations seem to believe. The notion that anyone under the age of 25 is a swearing, binge-drinking bastard with jeans round their ankles and of course it's completely untrue. I walked through town a few days back, casually walking around. Dressed normally, not speaking "chav" to my friend, and seemingly not holding any can of Fosters or, low and behold, a bottle of Relentless, so why were we being avoided like the plague? Seriously! You're supposed to be the responsible adults, so stop being stupid.
5. Geoffrey Boycott: Strange one this, because before today I didn't mind the guy. But I was watching the cricket highlights earlier, in which England seemed to grab back some of the initiative from Sri Lanka, but all I could hear was this stupid, complaining Yorkshireman repeating the same line of commentary for 45 minutes, (before I left for a curry!) I have only just worked out that he infuriates me! "Corridor of Uncertente, bowl at the 4th stoomp, ba' proply, that's absolute roobish", just shut up, you ridiculous man. Bring Bumble to free-to-air TV, now that's commentary!
6. Political Correctness: The stupidity of political correctness. The fact that you can't assume that every terrorist is Asian, despite it being obvious. Most of you are reading that thinking, "Ohhh you can't say that", but it's true. Look at every news report involving a terrorist attack or attempted bombing, and all the suspects are Asian, (and sometimes from Luton!) It's fact.
7. Dubstep: I've changed my mind on this particular subject. I've always believed that dubstep should be banned from all clubs, based around the fact you CANNOT dance to dubstep. How can you dance to noise? For that is what it is. Noise. It's called a 'dancefloor' for a reason, not a 'standandlistentonoisefloor'. However, I used to think dubstep was alright to listen to on long car journies, for some reason, but I have now taken the same stance as I do with the clubs. It is just noise, not music. In fact, it shouldn't even be classed as 'noise', but instead 'The Hoff vomiting'. It is exactly what it sounds like.
8. Football Fans: I have started to despise avid football fans recently. Not all, just some. Those ones who gloat when they win and gloat when their rivals lose, but somehow when they lose, things suddenly become "unfair" and of course, their loss is blamed on the referee being useless. It's just petty, grow up. It is the reason why I have stopped being a supporter of top-flight football. Being a Man Utd fan somehow makes you a "glory supporter" despite me supporting them since conception. So now, I can't be bothered. Can't be bothered to deal with the people who haven't grown up enough to deal with their team losing in a gracious fashion.
9. Managers: Just generally, managers. Any job I have had, the main manager has been an absolute prick, which begs the question, do you have to become a knob to be successful? My first manager did anything he could to bag success, even if it meant hurting others along the way, my 2nd manager was a perverted, egotistical moron and my 3rd manager, (albeit only for a brief time), was a manager who wanted everyone else to act like him. He even said to me during my interview, "I love every single day I come to work". Bullshit. Absolute dog turd. NO ONE, loves coming to work every day. Unless you are a professional sportsman, or a celebrity of some kind, not one single person loves going to work. Not one. What a fruitloop! (However, the current manager at BP now, is a legend, so maybe this track record is about to end?)
10: Zane Lowe: You know that Radio 1 DJ? The one that speaks so fast that not a single listener can ascertain what he's actually saying? The one who thinks he is a God for finding new music and playing their track on the radio, even if he does speak all over the beginning and end of it? The one who just has one of those faces you could slap without having a guilty conscience afterwards? Yeah, him.
I'm not really sure what possessed me to write all that, but why not!
Monday 6 June 2011
What Happened to this "Heatwave"?
On Friday, as I was awaiting for CC to stop being lazy and getting ready for our epic trip to the BBC, I was watching TV. Seeing as it was around 11am, I had a choice between The Jeremy Kyle Show, shopping channels and the news, so opted for the latter. Upon switching to channel 80, I saw the weather forecast, and seeing as it was the day before another full weekend of cricket, I was intrigued to find out whether I would need to go out and buy suncream or an umbrella. I figured in fact, I may need to go out and become an Australian, because the forecast for the whole weekend was set for, "ridiculous". And these days, "ridiculous" means, "outstanding". In case you didn't know..
So I was looking forward to a long, glorious weekend in the sun, ending up on the wrong side of crimson, and hitting some much needed runs! Saturday morning was quite cold though, as me and Saggers went to The Honeycrust for a bite or 9 of breakfast, (on Kettle's recommendation), before preparing the teas for the afternoon's cricket. Me? Volunteering? Who'd have thought it! Anyway, the afternoon got much better and the temperatures promised were arriving. We chased down 191 aswell, with a fantastic solo effort from our, "Former Kenya International" ... *ahem*... 88 not out from him, and a measly 26 from me, where I really should of scored more, on a pitch that resembled a road. As flat as anything, otherwise known as a "batsman's paradise"... Ok, I'll shut up now.
After this resounding victory, I rushed off to Kettle's parents anniversary do, hoping to get there in time for the "SURPRISE!" part, but missed out by about 10 minutes. It was good to speak to the few people there I knew, including Mother Beddoe, who's own fantastic opinionated views on everything kept me entertained for a while! The speeches from the Family Kettle were especially poignant, even bringing a tear to my eye, and the evening was enjoyable, (apart from the ridiculous Irish music!). This time, "ridiculous" stands for exactly that... However, I couldn't stick around for long as a) I was knackered and b) Mother Mitten was complaining that no one was dancing, despite wanting to herself... Too much wine, bless her!
Despite me being superbly tired though, I managed to get into a couple of those meaningful conversations that end up going on for hours, and you can't possibly walk away from. You all know what I mean. The conversations that can only happen after 11pm on a Saturday night.... Yeah...
I managed to escape at about 1am and slept like a baby on sleeping pills. I woke up at 1pm, and an hour later I was back out batting, but the heatwave-like temperatures that had been promised on Friday never materialised. Today was cloudy, cold, and despite the pitch being as much of a beauty as the day before, the ball swang more because of the cloud and it was a bit more difficult.. Again, I got 26, in a grand total of 232, (Master Collins gaining a solid 63 and Mr.Kenya International, another solid innings of 45), but after 15 overs of their innings, it started to rain pretty solidly, and no result was found. Some would say it was a waste of a day, but I don't think so. Me being captain gave me a bit more experience in the art of being a cricket captain, and I enjoyed the "laff"!
Tonight, we made a rather abysmal attempt at trying to win the pub quiz, gaining a not wholly respectable 18 out of 70, but if you're going to ask questions like, "Who invented concrete?", what else can you expect?! However, we brought back the old tradition of the after-quiz trip to McDonalds with Magic Man and Mason, and again, a laugh was had! And it's the taking part that counts, right?
A good weekend overall then, but I would of been disappointed if it was anything but. At least I don't feel as bad as I did last week, where I was lying here dreading the next day... I only have to wait another 8 days for that moment again...
So I was looking forward to a long, glorious weekend in the sun, ending up on the wrong side of crimson, and hitting some much needed runs! Saturday morning was quite cold though, as me and Saggers went to The Honeycrust for a bite or 9 of breakfast, (on Kettle's recommendation), before preparing the teas for the afternoon's cricket. Me? Volunteering? Who'd have thought it! Anyway, the afternoon got much better and the temperatures promised were arriving. We chased down 191 aswell, with a fantastic solo effort from our, "Former Kenya International" ... *ahem*... 88 not out from him, and a measly 26 from me, where I really should of scored more, on a pitch that resembled a road. As flat as anything, otherwise known as a "batsman's paradise"... Ok, I'll shut up now.
After this resounding victory, I rushed off to Kettle's parents anniversary do, hoping to get there in time for the "SURPRISE!" part, but missed out by about 10 minutes. It was good to speak to the few people there I knew, including Mother Beddoe, who's own fantastic opinionated views on everything kept me entertained for a while! The speeches from the Family Kettle were especially poignant, even bringing a tear to my eye, and the evening was enjoyable, (apart from the ridiculous Irish music!). This time, "ridiculous" stands for exactly that... However, I couldn't stick around for long as a) I was knackered and b) Mother Mitten was complaining that no one was dancing, despite wanting to herself... Too much wine, bless her!
Despite me being superbly tired though, I managed to get into a couple of those meaningful conversations that end up going on for hours, and you can't possibly walk away from. You all know what I mean. The conversations that can only happen after 11pm on a Saturday night.... Yeah...
I managed to escape at about 1am and slept like a baby on sleeping pills. I woke up at 1pm, and an hour later I was back out batting, but the heatwave-like temperatures that had been promised on Friday never materialised. Today was cloudy, cold, and despite the pitch being as much of a beauty as the day before, the ball swang more because of the cloud and it was a bit more difficult.. Again, I got 26, in a grand total of 232, (Master Collins gaining a solid 63 and Mr.Kenya International, another solid innings of 45), but after 15 overs of their innings, it started to rain pretty solidly, and no result was found. Some would say it was a waste of a day, but I don't think so. Me being captain gave me a bit more experience in the art of being a cricket captain, and I enjoyed the "laff"!
Tonight, we made a rather abysmal attempt at trying to win the pub quiz, gaining a not wholly respectable 18 out of 70, but if you're going to ask questions like, "Who invented concrete?", what else can you expect?! However, we brought back the old tradition of the after-quiz trip to McDonalds with Magic Man and Mason, and again, a laugh was had! And it's the taking part that counts, right?
A good weekend overall then, but I would of been disappointed if it was anything but. At least I don't feel as bad as I did last week, where I was lying here dreading the next day... I only have to wait another 8 days for that moment again...
Friday 3 June 2011
Pointless
Today was one of those days where you can look at your long list of 'Things to do Before you Die', and tick another box. Today was an experience that was enjoyable, but would I do it again? I'm not so sure...
You see, I was invited, (at an impossible hour of the morning), by CC, to a recording of the popular BBC gameshow, 'Pointless', the show where the contestants have to correctly guess what 100 members of the public were not thinking of. Basically, the aim of the game is to get as little points as possible, to get a chance of going through to the final, and the chance to win a pointlessly small jackpot, (compared to say, 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire'), that, for legal reasons, is a show that happens on another channel..
Anyway. The journey there was smooth enough and after a little hunt for the audience entrance, we found ourselves being directed by a 'BBC Executive' into a rather impressive and cosy studio to enjoy 2 episodes of this famous gameshow being filmed. The host, Alexander Armstrong, and his co-host Richard Someone-or-other, came on to rapturous applause and despite some rather embarrassing answers from a pair of wierdly named students, (I think they were called something along the lines of Banoffee and Meringue), the whole thing seemed to go quite swimmingly. It was quite interesting to watch how these programmes are made, even if sometimes it did feel like we were simply watching a slowed down version of the finished product.. We had fun though, and it was good to play along, when the real contestants were struggling!
However... there was one element of the whole experience I certainly did not enjoy. Other than the weird pain you feel after sitting down for too long, we had to endure the most infuriating, un-funny, camp, stupid stand-up comedian the planet has to offer. His name is Joel Dommett, and after doing a bit of research since I've been home, I have found out he has a spot at the Edinburgh Festival and works on BBC shows such as this one, and Russell Howard's Good News. The question I want to ask is, how?! I was in that studio for 4 hours and probably at least 40 minutes of that was spent listening to this idiot attempting to do stand-up comedy. The major problem was, no one had come to see stand-up comedy. No one had come to get involved in the banter and joshing that comes with stand-up comedy, and no one was prepared to listen to a man, not much older than I was, waffle his way through pretty much the same material whilst waiting for what they had really come to see. I didn't envy his job at all, and he made pretty hard work of it. I did feel a bit sorry for him at the time, but since finding out he is, somehow, halfway to stardom, I now think he's an idiot. To even attempt to matchmake 2 members of the audience, who were sat on opposite sides and have the audacity to try Madeleine McCann and Fritzl jokes, to an audience mostly comprised of bus-pass users, is just suicidal. I mean, really...
It just about didn't ruin the experience though. No one won any money, but I did get a good look at the cleverly amusing Alexander Armstrong and stood next to Fiona Bruce at the pelican crossing outside the BBC earlier in the day. Apparently Russell Kane was in the audience aswell, but he probably walked out at having to witness the hideous stand-up he has so masterfully made his own in recent years.
The journey home was rather long and tiresome, mainly due to the outrageous Friday evening London traffic jams, but I made it home in one-piece before embarking on my taxi mission to pick up Master Kettle, of which I have just returned! A good day then, but hopefully an even better weekend of cricket coming up!
You see, I was invited, (at an impossible hour of the morning), by CC, to a recording of the popular BBC gameshow, 'Pointless', the show where the contestants have to correctly guess what 100 members of the public were not thinking of. Basically, the aim of the game is to get as little points as possible, to get a chance of going through to the final, and the chance to win a pointlessly small jackpot, (compared to say, 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire'), that, for legal reasons, is a show that happens on another channel..
Anyway. The journey there was smooth enough and after a little hunt for the audience entrance, we found ourselves being directed by a 'BBC Executive' into a rather impressive and cosy studio to enjoy 2 episodes of this famous gameshow being filmed. The host, Alexander Armstrong, and his co-host Richard Someone-or-other, came on to rapturous applause and despite some rather embarrassing answers from a pair of wierdly named students, (I think they were called something along the lines of Banoffee and Meringue), the whole thing seemed to go quite swimmingly. It was quite interesting to watch how these programmes are made, even if sometimes it did feel like we were simply watching a slowed down version of the finished product.. We had fun though, and it was good to play along, when the real contestants were struggling!
However... there was one element of the whole experience I certainly did not enjoy. Other than the weird pain you feel after sitting down for too long, we had to endure the most infuriating, un-funny, camp, stupid stand-up comedian the planet has to offer. His name is Joel Dommett, and after doing a bit of research since I've been home, I have found out he has a spot at the Edinburgh Festival and works on BBC shows such as this one, and Russell Howard's Good News. The question I want to ask is, how?! I was in that studio for 4 hours and probably at least 40 minutes of that was spent listening to this idiot attempting to do stand-up comedy. The major problem was, no one had come to see stand-up comedy. No one had come to get involved in the banter and joshing that comes with stand-up comedy, and no one was prepared to listen to a man, not much older than I was, waffle his way through pretty much the same material whilst waiting for what they had really come to see. I didn't envy his job at all, and he made pretty hard work of it. I did feel a bit sorry for him at the time, but since finding out he is, somehow, halfway to stardom, I now think he's an idiot. To even attempt to matchmake 2 members of the audience, who were sat on opposite sides and have the audacity to try Madeleine McCann and Fritzl jokes, to an audience mostly comprised of bus-pass users, is just suicidal. I mean, really...
It just about didn't ruin the experience though. No one won any money, but I did get a good look at the cleverly amusing Alexander Armstrong and stood next to Fiona Bruce at the pelican crossing outside the BBC earlier in the day. Apparently Russell Kane was in the audience aswell, but he probably walked out at having to witness the hideous stand-up he has so masterfully made his own in recent years.
The journey home was rather long and tiresome, mainly due to the outrageous Friday evening London traffic jams, but I made it home in one-piece before embarking on my taxi mission to pick up Master Kettle, of which I have just returned! A good day then, but hopefully an even better weekend of cricket coming up!
Wednesday 1 June 2011
I Must Be Mad
I would like to show you a quote from the very same person who is typing out this blog tonight. Me. 17th January 2011, from the blog post entitled, 'That As They Say, Is That':
"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."
This, of course, is about the fabled and well documented days I spent at BP, spending most of my nights grappling desperately with the huge shortcomings of my colleague. A lot of angry words were written about him in this blog, and despite claiming I would never even set foot in there again, even as a customer, tonight, I find myself with the real possibility of going back as an employee. The day I have had today goes beyond crazy into the fields of unimaginable thoughts.
You see, my last post was spent digesting the fact I was stuck in a job even worse than BP, (if that is at all possible), for the meer fact it was hugely embarrassing. Last night, I spent the WHOLE night laying there thinking of what would be the best option. When I say, "whole night", I don't mean a few hours.. I mean from 11pm to the crack of dawn, just lying there, thinking. I already knew I was going to call in ill, as the headache I had was mountaneous, but I spent most of last night trying to develop a fool-proof plan that would let me escape the damned place. I suppose I came up with a plan, but it was never going to be very pretty.
7.30am came and went, and with the stupid, derogatory manager's words of, "Ill Again?!", in my ears I settled down for a few hours kip, preparing myself to let loose the news later in the day. Thinking about it, how can I be ill AGAIN, when it's the same headache? Whatever. I don't care. I awoke at around 11am, and decided that I should get it over and done with. I rang up GoOutdoors and made up some bullshit story about how I'd found another job in the sports sector, and explained that it was, "much more my scene", blahdy-blah. I spoke to the nicer, more polite manager who sounded disappointed but understood and as I put the phone down, I was happy with how easy that seemed to be. Seeing as I was on a roll, I decided to ring up Mother Mitten at work. I was expecting an apoplectic response, but instead seemed to get a few words that screamed, "I was expecting this", but even so, she seemed to accept it without much hassle*. As I went back to sleep for a couple of hours, I was very surprised at the reaction I had received from both parties.
At about 1pm, I woke up for good and wondered what I should do. I was, again, labelled a sponger, scrounger, lazy arse moron, and for good reason. However, I had a brainwave.
I knew there were jobs going at BP. My neighbour, Luke, works there along with a few other people I knew before I even joined BP, and they had said that people were getting up and leaving quicker than you can say 'Explosion'. For some strange reason, that I will probably never be able to fathom, I found myself driving towards the place I had said I would never set foot in again. On the journey, I thought whether this was the right thing to do, and concluded that it would soften the blow of giving up once more on a safe job, and went for it.
I stepped inside and felt the familiar chill of the store famous for it's lack of heating. I went up to the counter, and started speaking to Danica, who never fails to have a smile on her face, and spoke to her for a few minutes. I found out that Bastard Chris, the store manager, had left for good, leaving Legend Alex in charge and that The Wall was off sick, "indefinitely", and that 3 people had quit in the past week. Positive. Legend Alex then popped up, and noticed me instantly, coming over to shake my hand. Alex is the nicest bloke you could ever meet. Popular, funny, an all round good egg. We had a brief chat, with me stating, "Even though it sounds crazy, I would like my old job back". The feedback was good, Alex saying he could probably do with weekend night staff and/or could even find me a few day shifts. However, we left it be and I am going to meet him tomorrow to be more detailed and see where I go.
So, although I am definitely not straight back into work, I am 99% sure I will be, even if it is back to those weekend nights that were so unfortunately eventful, "back in the day". I definitely, 100%, certainly won't have to put up with the antics of The Wall though, and I would only be working 3 shifts a week, leaving me with enough money to have enough of a social life to get by, and enough time to get a breather and keep the, "lazy bone idle" side of me happy enough.
I know what you're thinking, and yeah, I must be mad.
*Yeah, sorry Mum! You got mentioned AGAIN! ;)
"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."
This, of course, is about the fabled and well documented days I spent at BP, spending most of my nights grappling desperately with the huge shortcomings of my colleague. A lot of angry words were written about him in this blog, and despite claiming I would never even set foot in there again, even as a customer, tonight, I find myself with the real possibility of going back as an employee. The day I have had today goes beyond crazy into the fields of unimaginable thoughts.
You see, my last post was spent digesting the fact I was stuck in a job even worse than BP, (if that is at all possible), for the meer fact it was hugely embarrassing. Last night, I spent the WHOLE night laying there thinking of what would be the best option. When I say, "whole night", I don't mean a few hours.. I mean from 11pm to the crack of dawn, just lying there, thinking. I already knew I was going to call in ill, as the headache I had was mountaneous, but I spent most of last night trying to develop a fool-proof plan that would let me escape the damned place. I suppose I came up with a plan, but it was never going to be very pretty.
7.30am came and went, and with the stupid, derogatory manager's words of, "Ill Again?!", in my ears I settled down for a few hours kip, preparing myself to let loose the news later in the day. Thinking about it, how can I be ill AGAIN, when it's the same headache? Whatever. I don't care. I awoke at around 11am, and decided that I should get it over and done with. I rang up GoOutdoors and made up some bullshit story about how I'd found another job in the sports sector, and explained that it was, "much more my scene", blahdy-blah. I spoke to the nicer, more polite manager who sounded disappointed but understood and as I put the phone down, I was happy with how easy that seemed to be. Seeing as I was on a roll, I decided to ring up Mother Mitten at work. I was expecting an apoplectic response, but instead seemed to get a few words that screamed, "I was expecting this", but even so, she seemed to accept it without much hassle*. As I went back to sleep for a couple of hours, I was very surprised at the reaction I had received from both parties.
At about 1pm, I woke up for good and wondered what I should do. I was, again, labelled a sponger, scrounger, lazy arse moron, and for good reason. However, I had a brainwave.
I knew there were jobs going at BP. My neighbour, Luke, works there along with a few other people I knew before I even joined BP, and they had said that people were getting up and leaving quicker than you can say 'Explosion'. For some strange reason, that I will probably never be able to fathom, I found myself driving towards the place I had said I would never set foot in again. On the journey, I thought whether this was the right thing to do, and concluded that it would soften the blow of giving up once more on a safe job, and went for it.
I stepped inside and felt the familiar chill of the store famous for it's lack of heating. I went up to the counter, and started speaking to Danica, who never fails to have a smile on her face, and spoke to her for a few minutes. I found out that Bastard Chris, the store manager, had left for good, leaving Legend Alex in charge and that The Wall was off sick, "indefinitely", and that 3 people had quit in the past week. Positive. Legend Alex then popped up, and noticed me instantly, coming over to shake my hand. Alex is the nicest bloke you could ever meet. Popular, funny, an all round good egg. We had a brief chat, with me stating, "Even though it sounds crazy, I would like my old job back". The feedback was good, Alex saying he could probably do with weekend night staff and/or could even find me a few day shifts. However, we left it be and I am going to meet him tomorrow to be more detailed and see where I go.
So, although I am definitely not straight back into work, I am 99% sure I will be, even if it is back to those weekend nights that were so unfortunately eventful, "back in the day". I definitely, 100%, certainly won't have to put up with the antics of The Wall though, and I would only be working 3 shifts a week, leaving me with enough money to have enough of a social life to get by, and enough time to get a breather and keep the, "lazy bone idle" side of me happy enough.
I know what you're thinking, and yeah, I must be mad.
*Yeah, sorry Mum! You got mentioned AGAIN! ;)
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