Carry On World

2005-01-17T19:44:00.000Z

International disasters come and go, but it's trivial crap like bubble wrap simulators and Supper with the Stars ("Where fame meets food") that compell me to end my blogging silence.

G's now insisting on Keith Harris and Cuddles (an extra charge for the monkey) attending her 30th birthday dinner. I think i'd prefer fatima Whitbread, Snorbitz, Lennie Bennet and The Pasedenas. I'll have to start building that extension.

2004-12-09T21:21:00.000Z

Now, this is cool. Bubble wrap always reminds me of bank holidays in the 70's and early 80's. All my relatives would come around to my parents and we'd have M&S meringue nests with raspberries and ice cream. I always hated them (the dessert, not my family) but the packaging was excellent.

2004-12-09T18:37:00.000Z

There's a mad cul-de-sac in Clowne, an otherwise unremarkable town/village in Derbyshire. Every single one of about 50 houses looks like a project created by trainee electrcians with no taste. Despite being pretty tacky, it's well worth a visit. A mini Las Vegas transplanted onto a cluster of semi's. Watski would love it.

2004-11-10T17:56:00.000Z

Quentin and Dolly often call to see us on Saturdays. Quentin has a coffee whilst Dolly (who's two and a bit) amuses herself the best she can in our child unfriendly house. This usually involves trying to eat flowers, kicking over my cd's whilst cackling darkly and constantly looking like she's about the to knock the fish tank over (though G may also say I look like that occasionally).

Despite our house being completely bereft of Early Learning Centre gear. Dolly seems to find these visits fairly enjoyable and for some reason she finds "Silly Billie Rich" quite entertaining. indeed at some points it appears as though I could easily become the Peter Kay of the 2-3 year old comedy market, though my routine does err on the side of slapstick and makes the Chuckle Brothers seem like something from the "South Bank Show".

At about 10am this Saturday came "Quentin's knock", (that is a certain style of knocking at the door- not some ancient disease). Through the frosted glass of the front door I could see Dolly's red/pink coat. I stomped doorwards utilising several my vast array of "comedy" voices "OH NO! IT'S THEM!, WE DON'T WANT THEIR SORT AROUND HERE!!" etc etc I finished off with an inspired move. I lifted up the letter box and shouted "GO AWAY SILLY BILLY!".

I opened the door to see a slightly confused looking Postman awaiting a signature for a parcel.

Suffice to say G who'd witnessed this spent most of the rest of the day rigid in some sort of laughter induced coma.

2004-10-29T19:27:00.000+01:00

Mum took us out for a meal last night. Resteraunts are pretty hard to come by in this town, but I must say This plac e served up one of the best meals I've ever had. Duck salad to start followed by Lamb. Then a delightfully gluttonous dessert that was actually a selection of all the other desserts on the an enormous plate.

In a town full of kebab shops this place is a real find. Well worth splashing out on, especially when someone else is doing the splashing. Well she was celebrating a small premium bonds win - I wasn't aware they were still going!).

2004-10-25T19:45:00.000+01:00

At our local supermarket a notice from the Police has been posted. It is now illegal to sell flour and eggs to anyone under 16. Apparently the youth of the town aren't induldnging in illicit Yorkshire Pudding and pancake making parties. These items now form the arsenal of any self respecting trick or treater and Mischevious Night prankster.

Mischevious night has always been more about being a general pain in the arse than mischevious. When I was younger the main activity was taking peoples gates off. Hillarious. IT should probably be renamed "Just Plain Nasty" night.

As much as I hate it I can't help wondering haven't the Police got better things to do?

Ferretting About

2004-10-19T19:38:00.000+01:00

When I returned home this evening, it quickly became clear I'd brought along an uninvited guest. A blonde ~~haired~~ furred ferret. Yes, this is not an elaborate nickname for one of our friends but real vermin. I was unaware it had run in the house until G's supersonic "silent" screaming transformed into full blown banshee screaming after about five seconds.

It ran though our Lounge/Dining area and straight into the kitchen and did a quick tour behind the Cooker, washing machine and fridge. Using my previous bat prevention experienced I "isolated" the area and by then G could just about speak and managed to say "Get that fucking thing out of my house" I opened the back door and he scurried out into the cold wilderness of my back garden.

G then asked me what it was (she'd thought it was a squirrel? Presumably some sort of killer squirrel judging by her reaction). I explained that it was probably someone's pet and that we should ask around to find it's owner. After knocking on about five doors we found out he belonged to the little girls who lived across the road, they hadn't realised "Hague" had gone. They came across in a search party which included his little pal "Charlie". The search was fruitless, I almost suggested that a dog may help in the search, but quickly realised that we'd probably find eight pieces of "Hague" rather than a whole one.

Of course G is now in the throes of guilt. I've suggested that she goes on some sorting of "finding Nemo" (but with vermin) type quest, but she's not feeling that guilty.

I'll keep you updated.

2004-10-17T15:12:00.000+01:00

I got a call the other day from a customer on a mobile. There appeared to be interference on the line, and there were big gaps in the conversation. "You're breaking up" I said. Anyway, we managed to complete the call and he arranged to come into the office the next day.

Imagine my horror when he arrived and it was immediately clear that there wasn't a problem the phone line, but he'd got a pronounced stammer.

Back in the eighties I had a Saturday job as a silver service waiter. All the staff were pretty used to various feeble jokes from customers usually to do with the white gloves we had to wear., usually the jokes were snooker based. This was also at a time when speech impediments were considered fair game as a topic of comedy, mainly thanks to Ronnie Barker in "Open All Hours".

I was serving at a wedding and one of the guests said "C.. c.. can I have some p...p..p....p.. peas... p...p.please". I of course presumed this was a "comedy" stutter and giggled and shot the customer an indulgent smile. Of course it was a real stutter, and I probably ruined that persons day.

She should have told me to "p....p..piss off".

2004-10-11T18:54:00.000+01:00

I visited Mum over the weekend, and heard her latest gossip. Apparently there's uproar in her neighbourhood. An organistion that works with austic children is planning to convert a house into a residential centre.

At the head of the protests is Mum's neigbour who also happens to be head of the local planning committee. Our local council is "Independent", a bunch of reactionary local business folk who would probably spurn the BNP for being too liberal. Also for people who proclaim themselves as independent, they seem to manage to vote in unison a hell of a lot.

I've wracked my brains for possible objections to the plans. I'm no expert on autism (though ~~caring for~~ living with G has given me a few pointers). Perhaps they're worried that they'll demand that cars on the street are organised into colour groups, or that they'll terrorise the area obsessively making lists.

2004-10-11T18:42:00.000+01:00

I spoke to somebody today who works for the National Rounders Association. I was amazed. Is rounders a proper sport? I thought it was just a made-up playground game, like French cricket. Presumably they have conferences with ITOGOO (International Tiggy Off Ground Organisation) and ETF (European Tiddleywinks Federation) and EWSLU (England and Wales Sleeping Lions Union).

2004-10-06T19:39:00.000+01:00

I've spent the last few days in some sort of Mexican stand off with the Tesco broadband support line. Yes, we've only just got broadband (and yes I'm also slightly ashamed to have a Tesco email address, but at least it's not Aldi).

I've spent nearly eight of the past 48 hours listening to the same four bars of their on hold music. An annoyingly chirpy early 1990's house refrain that sounds like it was knocked together on a Casio keyboard. This is interspersed every 30 minutes or so by a recording of an incredibly sincere sounding man telling me how upset he is that they haven't yet got around to answering my call. Wankers.

It doesn't really help matters that when I got through the problem was more to do with me being a fuckwit (technical term) than any fault of theirs.

2004-10-03T18:17:00.000+01:00

Spent today cleaning my fishtank. The inhabitants seem to have embarked on some sort of dirty protest and the result is that it resemble pea soup. The worst part is siphoning out the dirty water inevitably involves me getting a mouthful of the shit-ridden stuff. Nice.

We've long since abandoned our practice of naming the fish after family and friends as all gets a bit harrowing when they expire.

We also spent a few hours shopping in Nottingham. The proliferation of poncho's meant that at times we were part of Sergio Leone epic. G claims they're rather passe. Apparently cropped cardigans are the new ponchos.

2004-09-30T19:56:00.000+01:00

G's always wanted a Highland terrier called "Warrior". I, of course being the voice of reason, pointed out that with us both working long hours it would be cruel.

Now there's no stopping us. Mobile phones for dogs are here. A brilliant idea. Though I think somebody needs to remind the manufacturers that dogs can't talk. Otherwise the parks would be full of canines Screaming Trigger Happy TV style "I"M LICKING MY BALLS" etc etc.

Glad to see they've configured it so that they can only receive calls from recognised numbers. Hopefully avoiding crank phone calls from pesky cats.

2004-09-28T18:54:00.000+01:00

I got a text from G today "I've just seen a monkey having a wank". Luckily she was at the zoo and not at college or out shopping. She was on one of her celebrated excursions that she manages to pass off as work. I'm sad to say she'd forgotten the digital camera, and so we can't share that magical moment. Though it was on an "Observational drawing" trip, so keep your fingers crossed for some sketches.

"It was the tiniest penis I've ever seen" she said. I was obviously anxious to know how long it took and whether he "shot his load", she refuses to answer. I don't think she's telling us the full story.

2004-09-27T19:37:00.000+01:00

I played golf for the first time yesterday. It's fairly remarkable that it took me this long to try it. My Dad was apparently on the golf course whilst Mum was giving birth to me.

I thoroughly enjoyed it. It's amazing that stumbling around hacking bits of turf from the ground for a couple of hours could be so much fun. There was also the additional bonus of a couple of beers afterwards. Luckily it wasn't one of those high class golf courses, so I didn't feel out of place in jeans and trainers. Indeed I think I was about the only without a fag on the go.

I came home and G saw our score card "Wow, you won" she exclaimed. With some reluctance I had to explain that the idea of the game was to achieve the lowest score possible.

2004-09-07T20:13:00.000+01:00

Apologies for the recent lack of updates. As you'll understand it''s partly due to the fact that I now have a job to go to. Ironically I'm finding it harder to write, even though I've got much more going on. It's also as if I've got too much to choose from. It was easy to write when the main event of the week was going for a bike-ride and spotting a Goldfinch and some rampant toads.

I'll try my best not to allow this thing to get completely derelict, but it will have a different rhythm. More an ambient chill out feel rather than four to the floor techno.

Meanwhile the hot news in our town is that we now have a Sainburys. On the opening day Mum accosted a group of visiting management big-wigs and announced that she was a founding shareholder of the company, and she'd been waiting for the store to open a site for years. She knows no shame. Sometimes it seems she's becoming more and more like a caricature of that woman from "Keeping Up Appearances" by the day.

On my visit I gasped in wonderment at their shitake mushrooms, lemongrass and range of smoked salmon. However I was slightly peturbed when I purchased some ham and found it contained milk. At one point did it become a good idea to add milk to ham? Would people complain if they removed it. It was "premium" ham as well, none of that sliced teddy bear head novelty ham that they sell in Asda.

G's ordered a shed/summerhouse/artists studio for the bottom of the garden. We've finally cleared the chunk of rubble strewn jungle that has taunted us for over 18 months. Amazingly, though we'd procrastinated about doing this for so long it only took us a couple of days. I did most of the hard work though (queuing for the tip).

2004-08-24T20:26:00.000+01:00

One of my new colleagues, Jane, is a valeter/driver (it's a car rental firm I work for). I've always found in organisations it usually pays to stay on the good side of the seemingly least powerful. They usually know more about the place than anyone else, and indeed often turn out to be in control of the whole operation.

Anyhow she's been "lumbered with' a speeding ticket. She's objecting to it, quite reasonably, as she wasn't logged as the driver at the time- nobody was. She's been pulled in for "chat's" with senior managers, and still refuses to accept the ticket. She was discussing/complaining about this today and said several times "There's no way I'm being an escape goat!" Obviously I nodded sympathetically with a strange sort of semi-smirk on my face.

We've not had our "Preparing for emergencies" leaflet yet, but I think in a perfect world they would include a whole chapter on "Escape goats", presumably they'd be a bit like St Bernards dogs.

2004-08-22T19:20:00.000+01:00

A fairly quiet weekend. G's ordered a shed/workshop for the garden that she can paint in. This means we've got to dig over the bottom half of the garden. We've been meaning to do this for nearly two years now. The most fun/danegrous (the two generally go hand in hand) part of this was a big bonfire.

Saturday night was Bernard's little sister's 21st birthday party. Held in a nightclub, amongst the guests were a number of toddlers, due to the lack of babysitters. It was strange seeing such small childeren in this setting. Needless to say they loved it, completely entranced by the lights and music.

2004-08-19T18:38:00.000+01:00

Day four and work is still fun. This is perhaps helped by the fact that me and the rest of my group have been taken out to lunch by different department heads every day this week. Yesterday I spent a day at the local office where I'll initially be working. It was pretty hectic and much more like "real" work, luckily this was the best day of the week so far.

The big mouthed woman who made the faux pas with the Regional Director is getting steadily more annoying. Today on the way back from lunch she launched into a diatribe about crime and punishment. Apparently public execution is too lenient and that she'd opt for torture followed by execution. One of us asked whether she'd got enough faith in the Police and judicial system for this to occur. She didn't seem to hear and said that this could occur at football matches. All apparently without irony. I'm beginning to think that perhaps, after all, torture isn't such a bad idea. Happily after today I won't have to see her again, apart from occasional training sessions. I think she used to be a journalist on the Daily Express.

2004-08-17T20:10:00.000+01:00

Yesterday was my first day in my new job. I suppose it was fairly typical of a first day, reading endless health and safety guidelines ans staff handbooks, filling in what seemed like dozens of forms, many of which I'm sure I'd completed before. We watched a cheesy corporate video and then had lunch, joined by the regional director. He was American (this is a US firm) and was as enthusiastic as you'd expect. There are six of us being enrolled on the management scheme this week. This guy, asked us what had attracted us to his company. One of my new colleagues a Yorkshire woman answered without hesitation "I just applied for about 15 on the same day, you were the only ones that replied". He took this in his stride well, "But hey, had you heard good things about us?" "No, I'd never heard of you, you just came up on an internet search". I felt quite sorry for the poor bastard.
The group is a mixture of fairly young graduates, and a few older ones, obviously I'm the oldest. I find the whole thing slightly reminscent of Big Brother's early stages. Everyone's real personalities are slowly begining to emerge. I'm trying not to develop into an "Ahmed" type character, but I'm probably being more resrved than I normally would.I'll be worried if I start scremaing and smashing plates.
Today was still very much a training day, more video's, more learning about standards and procedures, but at least a bit taxing. Tomorrow is my first day in a local office and should be interesting.
Meanwhile back at home, G is climbing the walls with boredom. However she taken over the mantle of Head Chef with great ease, and I've had some fatntastic food waiting for me so far this week (Glamorgan sausages yesterday and pasta with roast vegtables and herbs tonight) .

Cardiff

2004-08-17T18:21:00.000+01:00

We arrived on Monday afternoon, and were booked in at The Big Sleep. A converted office block, billed as the UK's first Budget design hotel and part owned by the American actor John Malcovich and a family involved in the production of Formica. The Formica link was evident, and it's clear they developed this place as a showpiece for the deeply unfashionable material. The place was covered in the stuff in an array of attractive colours. I think as far as we're concerned, as a Formica propaganda exercise it worked. I'm sure G is hatching secret plans for a new bathroom as we speak.
In addition to being athestically pleasing (we had a corner room with stunning views across the city) it was also clean, very central and cheaper than a Travel Lodge at £46 for a double room including a good continental breakfast. It's easy to see why it gets booked up quickly come cup final and play off time.
As a city Cardiff was even better than we had expected. Europe's newest capital city certainly has a a vibrant feel to it. The array of shops kept G happy, though obviously I wasn't a particularly enthusiastic partner. The bars and restaurants were also as good (if on a smaller scale) as you'd find in Birmingham or Leeds. The Cardiff Bay area showed how the city is regenerating. G's Dad was quite dismayed when we told him we planned to go down there "It's dead rough, be careful". Of course now it's yuppie heaven teeming with bars, restaurants and a frenzy of builders constructing the spectacular new concert hall and the home of the Welsh assembly. Probably the most interesting part of the area though was the Norwegian church, apparently at one time threatened with demolition and then refurbished as a little clapboard arts centre and cafe, which served excellent gravlax.

One of the highlights of our stay was the Millennium Stadium tour. Here you got to visit the dressing rooms and have your photograph taken with cut-outs of unknown Welsh rugby players. I say unknown Welsh rugby players, not because they died in combat, but because neither of us had a clue who they were. We also sat in the Queen's Box, and found out that some railings had to be replaced with a wall so that people on the tiers below couldn't see her, erm, box (sorry). We also got to run down the players tunnel, bumping into all the other people fervently brandishing digital cameras. All in all, a fun tour, even G loved it.
We spent our last day in the city visiting the very impressive Gallery and museum. G was excited as they'd apparently got the world's best collection of impressionist paintings in the world outside Cardiff. We spent over two hours in there and I didn't see any pictures of Bobby Davro, Phil Cool or even Mike Yarwood. Still it was very good if you're into that sort of thing, and a good escape from the heat if you're not (it was hot in Wales whilst the East Midlands and most of the rest of the country were enduring biblical rainstorms).
I'll update the rest of the trip later in the week (I know you can't wait).

2004-08-15T20:09:00.000+01:00

John Malcovich; Formica; Over 75 different types of vodka; Starting smoking again; The Queen's box; Bobby Davro; Cooking brandy; Typhoon; chocolate muffin; Creepy anamatronics; Three bottles of wine each; A bloke nearly getting his nose bitten off; Germans playing table tennis in a field; Stunning views; A fart in a hot tent; Slight sunstroke.

You know how I said I'd give a full update today? Erm, well, sorry but a combination of sunburn, generally feeling tired, having piles of washing to do and feeling a bit nervous about starting work tomorrow means all you're getting for now is the above. I'm hoping it might give you some sort of feel for the time we had. A great week, taking in Cardiff, Porthacawl and Gower. I hope to be able to give a bit more detail and some snaps in the near future. Also thanks to Bernard, Summer (Bernard and his wife Summer, not Bernard Summer the lead singer from New Order, although thanks to him as well) and their charming daughter Olive for being such excellent hosts in Porthacawl.

2004-08-08T21:09:00.000+01:00

One of G's older sisters came to our house for the first time this weekend. They didn't grow up together and G naturally felt a bit nervous. As it turned out we had a great time. I think I've perhaps mentioned before showing people around the place where you live sometimes helps you appreciate what you've got.

The only low point was the football on Saturday, but I won't dwell on that. G's sister and the friend who came with her are re-born Christians. At one point they said that I'd make a good vicar. Religion is certainly not one of my strong points (my Mother describes me as a "dirty heathen"), but I dread to think what their church is like. Presumably their vicars drink too much and swear profusely.

We're off on a hastily arranged holiday to Wales next week. I'll update on our adventures on Sunday

2004-08-06T12:12:00.000+01:00

Yesterday evening there was a knock at the door. It was the wife of one of our neighbours (the kareoke obsessives). "Could she borrow us for a few minutes", behind her lying on the pavement was her husband. He'd had a rough day working in a factory in hot stuffy conditions with no air con and not many opportunities to have a drink. He'd been feeling ill, and had a headache, finished his shift, driven home and collapsed in front of our house. G fetched him a cushion for his head and a glass of water. He was really quite shaky, complained of a pain in his head and vision problems. He could just about answer our questions. I considered taking him down to his GP, but given that he couldn't stand unaided I was about to call an ambulance. I then remebered reading the excellent paramedic blog Random Acts of Reality, and the problems unnecessary call-outs cause. We lifted him into G's car and I drove him to A&E. I parked up and got one of those rubbish shopping trolley style wheelchairs they have, and got him checked in. Any doubts I'd had about taking him in disappeared when the nurse gave him the once over and whisked him past the full waiting room into a cubicle and on to an ECG machine. A young student doctor came and asked him a few questions, he was extremely puzzled by his symptoms. Using my experience of watching various daytime medical docu-soaps and Quincy I was trying to conduct my own diagnosis: A stroke? (his ECG was normal); diabetes? He'd had regular meals and previously been tested- though I think it's a possibility; dehydration-possibly; I also wondered about some sort of neurological complaint, meningitis- he looked like he'd got some sort of rash on his chest, but perhaps he was just a bit spotty.

They then took some blood, which was rather traumatic experience for the poor lad, it took five attempts to get a vein and then it was clear he was, as the nurse said, a "slow bleeder". Trying to add a bit of humour I said that she was being a little harsh. I don't think she aprreciated my efforts, but thankfully she didn't call security. They had to use a syringe in the end and really pump it for ages to get any blood. He must have been in some form of shock. He was then taken for an x-ray. Whilst we were waiting (by the way his wife had asked me to stay, I wasn't just hanging around like some uninvited, ghoulish, joke-cracking voyeur) a member of staff walked into an office and the door was left open. On the desk was some sort of rack for dispensing stickers. The only one I saw was a rather jolly fluorescent green colour and in big letters it said "DECEASED". Obviously I was sorely tempted to quickly pilfer a roll, but that would have only added to our problems. I discussed this with G later, she wasn't as fascinated as me by the existence of such stickers, I found it rather freaky, especially as they looked like a sign for a clearance sale.

After the X-ray his brother in law tuned up, and I went home, they'd told him he'd definitely have to stay the night and have some tests. I gave his wife a lift to the hospital this morning and she said his torment had continued after I left when he'd had some pain-killers injected into his arse. Ouch.

2004-08-05T15:36:00.000+01:00

An interesting few days (well, I guess you'll be the judge of that).

Tuesday was my final interview. It was with a panel of three managers and all seemed to go well. I was slightly put off by one of the interviewers saying several times, that I'd get feedback in a few days. I then began thinking that they'd only be giving me feedback if I wasn't successful.

They then asked me a question that sent me into further turmoil "How do you feel about being an older member of staff,as managers, we're a few years younger than you, and with your level of experience, how would you feel?" I gave pretty much the only answer I could give, of course it wouldn't be a problem, modern business isn't a strict hierarchy run on an age basis (I didn't use such poncey phrasing, but it was along those lines). The interview continued, and all seemed well, except this member of the panel managed to mention me getting feedback again a couple of times.

I left feeling pretty despondent. I expected in a few days to get a call explaining hat I was over-qualified, a convenient euphemism for "too old". I'm only 33 for fucks sake. I then got a call from my Mum, she'd been to a hospital appointment and was told that she'd been sent there as they thought she may have cancer. The tests to confirm it will take two months. I'm finding it quite difficult to deal with, as my Mum's natural resting state is about half a notch below hysteria. Oddly she seemed fairly calm.

She came across for dinner and joined us and G's parents. A good time was had despite the circumstances, the drink flowed and a lengthly conversation was held about different types of laxatives. I did feel a bit better, Mum said she'd told the doctor she'd lost her appetite, she still managed to eat a gargantuan meal though, but undoubtedly something isn't right with her.

Wednesday G went with her parents to Birmingham for the day and I stayed at home to get a few job applications done, I desperately needed to feel in control of the whole job situation.

This morning I got a call re: the interview, they were calling to give me feedback, but first they wanted to know what I thought. I expressed my feelings about the age question, thankfully I did so calmly and professionally. The guy then said that I'd made a good point and that in retrospect they wouldn't ask such a question again. He then said they all thought I was an excellent candidate....I was waiting for a "but", it didn't come. They were calling to offer me the position. Obviously I felt relief more than anything, it would only get harder for me to find work as time progressed, and a financially a tight situation was due to get tougher as my benefit is due to be stopped this week.

Just a couple of hours ago there was a knock at the door, it was the Vicar's wife (I've just about forgiven them for the tax thing, the good heathen that I am). The old lady next door but one had passed away, she'd been found in a severe state of decay by the Vicar. She'd told us this because a couple of weeks ago we'd seen a middle aged couple looking at the property. We didn't know anybody lived there, it was a very decrepit semi-derelict bungalow hiding behind a very over-grown garden. They said an old lady lived there and they'd not seen her for a few days, she regularly walked into town and on the last sighting she'd looked unwell. We said we'd have a word with the vicar, the next day it became clear the vicar had gone away on holiday. So we went to the bungalow and knocked on the door, no reply. We called the police who stated that officers had been a couple of days before and that the old lady was deaf and was shocked when they forced entry. Apparently she's a recluse. Social services were now in charge of the matter and we were advised not to disturb her as she liked her privacy. No one knows whether Social Services attended, hopefully there will be some sort of investigation. As far as the Vicars wife knows she didn't have any family. We're thinking of attending the funeral.

2004-08-03T10:50:00.000+01:00

A quiet, but fun few days of garden digging, barbecues and bike rides, enjoying the first patch of decent weather in what seems like ages.

G's parents are are arriving in a couple of hours, so cleaning needs to be done. Updates unlikely until Thursday.

2004-07-30T14:51:00.000+01:00

The assessment centre went well. Thankfully all candidates were allowed to stop for lunch. I was fairly appalled by one of the group putting a whole packet of crisps in a sandwich. Obviously I'm a food snob , but I'm not 100% anti-crisp sandwiches, but it just doesn't seem right for an interview situation. At least they were plain Walkers rather than Monster Munch and she didn't add ketchup and brown sauce as well.

The interview in the afternoon was fine. I was a bit unnerved by the interviewers determination to put my name into every sentence as many times as possible.

Interviewer: Well, Richard, you've found a bit more about us this morning, about the way we run things, Richard, and bout the culture of the company, Richard. But I'd like to ask you, what appealed to you about working for us, Richard.

Needless to say I looked upon this as some sort of challenge, and managed to fit his name into my sentences more that he did mine. I think that's why I made it through to the next stage.

If I get the job, I might treat myself to this.

2004-07-28T18:16:00.000+01:00

I've just spent several hours completing an application form in preparation for an assessment day tomorrow. Of course they've already got a copy of my CV which includes all the information contained on the application form anyway, but who am I to doubt the expertise of human resources practitioners.

I've only once been to an assessment day. That was particularly surreal in that it was at Alton Towers, a group of us were competing for a student placement position with the theme park. We all had to complete a pre-prepared presentation first. Mine went well, but, I suppose a PR student should, if anything be able to prepare a half decent 20 minute spiel. This being about eight years ago, the most rudimentary Powerpoint display attracted gasps of wonderment. It included images and everything, at one point I thought they were going to trial me as some sort of witch.

We then completed some sort of pointless group exercise and we were then told that the panel would get together and review our performance. They would do this whilst we had the opportunity to look around the park. On our return we were to be informed who was through to the next stage- in the afternoon.

We then, not dissimilar to a gaggle of politicians eager for a photo-opp trooped around the site, all wearing business suits and feeling rather self conscious. Not self conscious enough to miss out on the chance to go on the rides for free though. We actually ended up having a great time, and bonded quite well as a group.

We then returned to the offices and most of my new friends were sent home without any lunch. It all felt quite insensitive. They had to do a walk of shame past the trays of mini pork pies and chicken satay, whilst the rest of us did a slow hand-clap and sang "Cheerio, Cheerio, Cheerio!", actually that last bit didn't happen, but it would have been fun. I was one of the lucky few who got to the afternoon stage for a full interview. I didn't get the job, otherwise today I might possibly be the UK's number one fun-fair spin doctor.

The ~~winner~~ successful candidate had done some part time work there and managed as part of his presentation to tell a hilarious story about a diarrhea incident in the ball pool. I think that's what clinched it, snazzy ("snazzy" I'm finally sounding like my mum, please shoot me) graphics are no match for "pooh on children's play equipment" stories.

Try as I might, I can't see me being able to rope one in tomorrow, I'm wondering whether it's worth me turning up.

2004-07-27T16:37:00.000+01:00

On Friday at about 11.45pm the phone rang. Unusually for this time on a Friday we were in bed and asleep. It continued to ring out. We both pondered for a while before I was volunteered to go and check the voicemail. There's always a possibility that calls at that time of night can be terrible news. If you ignore them there's no real chance of getting to sleep anyway.

I shuffled grumpily downstairs. Unsurprisingly it was my Mum, sounding fairly hysterical (again, not that unusual). She'd gone up to bed and found her bedroom was inhabited with a bat. I discussed it with G, who said if required, she'd drive me across (I would have been borderline for driving as I'd had some wine). I had hoped I'd be able to persuade her to shut the bedroom door and sleep in one of her other three empty bedrooms, leaving me to sort it out first thing. Alas she was having none of it, and was afraid of what a rampant bat might do, if left in her room all night. This is the fourth time I've had to deal with bat invasions at Mum's. So rather than being horrified by the whole experience it's getting more irritating. Possibly the most scary bat incursion was when my Dad was taking a piss and a large bat flew in the window. Needless to say there was a right mess.

On arrival I found Mum making "scary ghost" type noises, she was talking as well, she'd not been rendered incapable of traditional speech through sheer terror. I'm quite glad some restraint had been shown and there wasn't a collection of about 20 neighbours gathered around. An opportunity for melo-drama was missed there. I was quite disappointed to find the bat was the least scary of the creatures I'd seen. It wasn't even flying. It was sat there on the carpet, only a little bigger than a £2 coin looking quite sleepy. I dropped a towel on it and took it out to the garden. Shortly afterwards it flew off.

Given the regularity of these bat attacks I'm thinking of trying to change Mum's attitude to these animals. The endangered species approach isn't working. She doesn't seem even slightly impressed that they're not far from extinct and have chosen share her habitat. In fact she's stated that they'd be completely extinct if she had anything to do with it.

The only approach I can see working is getting my Mum to become a goth. I think perhaps start her off on a bit of The Mission and Fields of Nephilim, encouraging her to go out immediately after baking dusted in flour, wearing that new black apron outfit and hat I bought her. Gradually weaning her on to Marilyn Manson, discouraging her from wearing her glasses and explaining that the latest thing for her sight defect is special bi-focal contacts, that by coincidence happen to make your eyes look a bit feline-like. Get her to hang around shopping precincts and outside the local skate/patouli oil/bong shop and bats may then come to be seen by her as a positive thing. Unfortunately having to remove hordes of Slipknot-topped, depressed teenagers from the house may take more than a towel.

2004-07-26T17:16:00.000+01:00

A rather disgruntled looking tree snapped last week by G at Clumber Park. Perhaps he's heard about our local tree protestors who are on eviction alert. G wants to join them, but she's afraid of tunnels, heights, baliffs and Policemen. So we'll bake them some cakes instead.

2004-07-23T16:52:00.000+01:00

Apologies for not keeping up regular posting. Still suffering the emotional hangover after our team beat the once mighty Leeds 2-0 on Wednesday. G came to the match with me, Patrick and Shetland Tony from Leeds. Being a Leeds girl, and it only being her second football match (previously she'd attended a wet Tuesday night game at Halifax). She spent most of the time looking enviously at the Yorkshire contingent "I wish I was with them, they look like they're having much more fun". Her enjoyment was obviously heightened by me regularly nudging her saying "we're all over Leeds" and "wait 'till I see your Dad".

After the game Shetland's post match analysis was frankly astounding, and not a little ungracious. Apparently, our goals were two lucky breaks, in a match dominated by the Yorkshiremen. Happily the match reports from both the Notts and Yorkshire media seem to vilify my views.

I'm also still very deeply moved by Michelle from BB's beautiful rendition of Pie Jesu. Like a true kareoke diva she sang the choral classic in a pub-Whitney style. Almost managing to resist any Trisha style "talk to the hand 'cos the face ain't listenin'" style sideways head movements.

I can't wait to see what more elaborately engineered shag-dens her and Stewart will construct before the end of the series.

2004-07-21T17:16:00.000+01:00

I normally don't write about my opinions on music, just occasionally updating the music section of the sidebar. However I recently got hold of an album that's inspired me to feature it in the main section. I first heard it pretty much by chance on a listening post in Borders.

The Kings Of Convenience are a Norwegian duo, one of whom looks like the bloke from Bo Selecta, but without a rubber chin (I can tell you're all excited already). Anyhow, their latest album Riot On An Empty Street is a beautiful, gentle of collection slightly quirky acoustic songs that has hardly been off my stereo for the past two weeks. If you've ever enjoyed Simon and Garfunkel, Beth Orton, Elliot Smith or even fucking Dido then I suspect you'll enjoy this.

The tunes are catchy, the production lush and the lyrics thoughtful. I'll stop now as my evangelical zeal for this record is getting embarrassing.

Year Zero

2004-07-20T15:59:00.000+01:00

On Sunday I was aware that G had been unusually quiet for a while upstairs. Suspicious that something was awry I ventured up to investigate. She was clearing the spare bedroom and queried the identities from photos of a few people I knew from university.

I then happened to look down and saw a wallet of photo's peering out of the top a bin bag. Below these were about 6 other collections of snaps. This bag was destined for the rubbish (as refuse sacks traditionally are) . I asked what was going on, and she said they needed to go, and were just rubbish silly photo's anyway.

If you don't know who anybody is I'm sure they are silly. G immediately stated that it was OK, that she'd sorted through them and saved the best ones. How can she sort through them if she doesn't know who anyone is? I took a look at the "save" pile, predictably it was full of shots of people we both knew. I felt like I was on Life Laundry hosted by Pol Pot. A whole section of my life was headed for a land-fill site.

How can she have possibly sorted through the pictures if she wasn't there to decide whether it's a memory worth keeping or not? I suggested I sort through some of her old paintings and the pile of photographs were hastily removed from the bag.

2004-07-16T15:48:00.000+01:00

Someone in the comments section recently suggested that, given my use of aliases in the blog, that maybe the whole thing could be fictional.

Viewed from this perspective this apparently drivel-ridden, luxurious lifestyle I lead (not that the two are mutually exclusive) seems to me a bit more interesting.

So the Tourette's suffering cookery adjudicators (some of whom have pedigree) are fictional, then "I" decided to bring a Chesterfield fan into the mix. Finally 'I" create a suitably menacing alter-ego who adds an element of Matrix-style conspiracy (cue- a parade of (fictional) Matrix obsessives in the comments section questioning the usefulness of this comparison).

All the time in the main blog a narrative is being maintained involving some bike-riding, amphibian-spotting doley and a whole host of other characters including a chronically constipated Mother, a ~~poncho,~~ ~~vintage buckle,~~ ~~cape~~ jumpsuit obsessed ebay addict of a girlfriend and a narky Job Centre Officer.

Is this the work of one man with multiple personality disorders arguing with the voices in his head about the construction of Eggs Benedict? Alternatively it could be the work of (a bit crap, but enthusiastic) creative writing group. All adding posts or comments as they see fit.

I suggested to G that it may have legs as part of some conceptual art project. Perhaps Arts Council funding wouldn't be out of the question? She doesn't seem very hopeful.

2004-07-14T17:57:00.000+01:00

Had a great time in Leeds. It's G's hometown and I lived there for about 9 years, after moving there to study. On Saturday, we went for an early drink in Headingley, then headed up to Douglas and Imogen's in Pudsey where we were to have a cook-off. The idea was For myself, Douglas and Barnaby to prepare a course each.

Douglas was first off, with a warm salad of prawns and courgettes. A very strong start, the bar was well and truly raised. Courgettes have never tasted so good, beautifully flavoured with red chilli and lime juice.

Barnaby then took over in this tag-team culinary extravaganza. Delicious fillet steak on a bed of mash with shitake mushrooms and a red-wine sauce, and topped off with asparagus (obviously earning extra points, although it wasn't British).

Finally I got involved with raspberry cheesecake chocolate brownies served with organic vanilla ice-cream. More of a pudding than a cake (settling an argument with G who beforehand had claimed I'd bottled it by baking a cake/biscuit type thing).

I think we were supposed to choose some sort of winner. We didn't get around to this (red wine may have had a bearing), and I possibly think we'd have all been fairly happy to call it a draw on the night. However, as we were all stopping over, Barney somehow scored a last minute bicycle-kick winner by serving a superb breakfast. Poached egg served on a toasted muffin with Hollandaise sauce with crispy bacon, asparagus and rocket. Amazingly he said he'd invented this dish one Sunday morning, just using stuff he'd got in the house. This comes from a man who, when I moved into his house following University, had to ask me how to cook bacon.

We're hoping to replicate the whole thing at some point in the future in aid of Breast Cancer Research, as part of Douglas's Great North Run Fund-raising efforts.

Sunday was a fairly low key affair ending with a bargain Italian meal. Monday was fun meeting up with Shetland Tony and Mikhail at the Elbow Room, the site of many a drunken session whilst I was in Leeds. Until Monday I'd never actually played pool there. I don't generally do the P-word. In fact I'm pretty opposed to any form of bar-sport. I generally find they detract from drinking, really the only reason to go into a bar as far as I'm concerned. Anyhow, I also realise, that another factor is that I'm totally rubbish at it. It was fun, but I'm still going to retain my anti-pool stance.

Monday evening we completed a triple whammy of meals out on the trot with a visit to the mighty Amigo's in Kirkstall. We were taken there by G's parents and had a great time with sangria flowing freely. Perhaps not the best preparation for G's interview the next day.

2004-07-08T13:29:00.000+01:00

Last week I was given an old car by an Aunt. It's 14 years old and a bit battered, but mechanically sound with an MOT. On job interview days I suspect I'll be wanting to swap cars with G for the day, or I'll be parking around the corner and using camouflage netting and a bit of foliage.

Next door to us is the Vicarage. The Vicar and his wife always seem quite friendly. He could probably safely be catgorised as a "trendy" vicar as he has a diamond earring, and G once saw him head-banging as he was driving his car. Not that either of those two thing would qualify anyone else as trendy (in fact the head-banging whilst driving thing would put you firmly in the "mental" bracket), but for a Vicar it renders him a virtual fashion victim.

The tax on this car ran out at the end of June. So last Thursday I duly went to fetch the car tax. I didn't put it straight in the car as I hadn't been out in it. I'm fully aware that as it was on a public highway it should have been displayed, but I forgot/couldn't be bothered. On Sunday we were seeing our guests off and I put the new tax disc in the window. The vicar was outside "Oh, that's yours is it?", "erm, yes, I've just got it", "Oh, I've reported it to the police as the tax disc was out of date, don't worry, I shouldn't imagine they'll prosecute".

For the past few days I've been trying to work out whether I'd have been as angry if he'd been not been a vicar. Apart from the obvious benefits, being spiritually fulfilled and getting first dabs on jumble sale stuff, at times it must be a pain in the arse being a man of the cloth. Football matches must be particularly difficult, trying to abuse the referee/away fans and retaining some decorum must be hard. I should also imagine it must be tricky relaxing in the pub, he's an Anglican, from what I understand Catholicism is a different kettle of fish, though my body of knowledge on the Catholic faith has mainly been assembled from watching a few episodes of "Father Ted".

After mulling over the issue I've come to the conclusion that I'd be fairly offended if a neighbour had done this regardless of whether he was a vicar or not. I told my Mum about this, she's a county level curtain twitcher and a semi-regular church-goer. She was outraged. I felt a bit better about my feelings about the matter then. Being a heathen I'm not sure if there's anything in the Bible about not grassing up your neighbours for innocuous traffic offences, but If they could include stuff like that in a revised version, then I might consider attending church.

Off to Leeds for a few days. Will return Tuesday or Wednesday.

2004-07-07T18:17:00.000+01:00

Our friend Bernard is something of a Photoshop ~~whizzkid~~ ~~whizzman~~ expert. This is his latest work, a thoughtful portrait of me at dinner (for those interested I'm eating fillet of salmon wrapped in pancetta on a bed of puy lentils).

2004-07-06T12:40:00.000+01:00

Late last night, for no reason in particular I was discussing my recent visit to Wales for the Division Three Play Off Final. I explained that one of our party, Rupert (a Welshman through and through) had addressed a bus driver as "Drive". Us English were quite impressed and amused by this very logical system of producing nicknames. I think I perhaps was a little over zealous with my "when in Rome" attitude, enthusiastically saying "Thanks Drive!" as we got off. You'd have thought he'd have appreciated me making the effort at least.

Anyway G and I were discussing this, and I, thinking aloud and said that our friend Bernard would be called "Post" (he's a Postman), Quentin could be called "Map" (he does Geography type stuff for a conservation/heritage trust). G would be called "Teach" (an FE lecturer), and the conversation then jumped to what I would be called. G immediately joined in, I suspect she'd not really been listening until then. "Twatty?", she said, "that's not a verb" I corrected her. "Twat?", "well no not really, it would be correct if I went round hitting things, a boxer or something" "Cunt?....cunty?" I never fail to be shocked at her language, especially as one who's job is to help mould the youth of our nation into responsible adults. "Dick?...mong?.....mongy?" I don't think she really understood the principle, she's never been to Wales.

2004-07-05T13:49:00.000+01:00

Having friends to stay is always fun. It's almost like going on holiday yourself. So this weekend having Jasper and Serena to stay was great, despite the weather being a bit grim.

We actually didn't do much, except eat nice food and get fairly drunk. The exception is on Saturday we went into Nottingham late afternoon, wandered around a few shops and went for a few drinks. G bought the Super Furry Animals DVD. Which we watched when we got home. It was very surreal and seemed specifically designed for viewers who'd indulged in psychedelic drugs. Luckily we had.

I'd had magic mushrooms quite a few times when I was younger. The recent clarification of the law means that companies have sprung up openly selling them, the proviso being that they must be consumed fresh rather than brewed or dried. There were loads of stalls selling them at Glastonbury, but we didn't partake. My recollection have always been that they were great fun, but usually tinged with elements of paranoia.

I think this time was actually more fun. Probably because we were a bit more careful with the dosage, rather than just grabbing a handful and wandering around the streets/nightclubs, and because were were more comfortable in our environment, making sure all bases were covered. Unplugging phones, mobiles off, plenty to drink etc.

The evening was pretty much extreme hilarity, coupled with some fairly easy to control visuals. No paranoia, probably because we felt completely safe. We also all felt pretty good the next day, no hangover or come-down of any sort.

I'm not sure how long this loop-hole in the law will exist. At the moment those selling them seem reasonably sensible- advising on dosage etc, but I do suspect the shit may hit the fan as soon as some dickhead decides to drive on them and kills somebody. On the other hand, if they grow wild in our countryside isn't it difficult to outlaw them? Another proviso is that they're sold for experimental purposes, surely anybody who has them is experimenting? You wouldn't buy them because you'd like something to go in an omelette.

Suffice to say it was the best Saturday night in we'd had in ages. Not that I can see us doing it every week though.

I'm getting over the disappointment of my job news and approaching my job-search with renewed vim. Encouragingly I've got an interview on Wednesday. It's only with an agency, but it's progress.

2004-07-02T17:03:00.000+01:00

Just as I was getting used to living without the constant companionship of earwigs, and beginning enjoy the luxuries of home, I got some bad news.

I didn't get that job. As always I had to ring them. Frustratingly after 3 interviews, completing an online course, a report and being told that the job was pretty much mine, they've now said they need someone with more sales experience. Needless to say this wasn't mentioned anywhere in the specification for the job.

Whilst being fairly gutted, especially as things are getting a bit serious money wise, perhaps it's for the best, a better job will come up, they seemed like an army of numpties etc etc.

Still going to firebomb the place though.

On a lighter note (most things are lighter than pre-meditated arson) our friends Jasper and Serena are coming to visit for the weekend. We were hoping for some hard core chimnea action, but the weather is looking a bit grim. Still I suppose we could do it Glasto style.

More Glastonbury Images

2004-06-30T22:35:00.000+01:00

Top left is an American glass blower who was delivering a talk about his art and how each piece was totally unique, and that the modern strive for perfection in manufacturing was ultimately destructive etc. The only thing was every 2 minutes he took a toke on a great big bong next to him. I'm sure he was breaking health and safety regulations. Next is pretty obvious: a bloke with a fire on his head, a whale; G's pink wellies; The revoulutionary "She Pee" female urinals, nice, a banner advertising "aura cleansing in the TiPi Field (I'm sure mine would have required an industrial contractor), Joe Strummer Sound System, Wicker pods in the Greeenpeace Field.

I promise it'll be back to normal service tomorrow.

Glastonbury 2004

2004-06-29T20:54:00.000+01:00

Arrived home last night feeling quite tired and smelly. The whole experience was as always quite over-whelming. Possibly the easiest way of summing it up is with a list of highs and lows. In no particular order, here goes:

Lows

1 Arriving on Wednesday at a very damp site and getting lost despite asking about three stewards, none of whom new where they were (on the site, not in general). It got rather Blair Witch when G stormed off threatening to throw the map away, at one point we were in Michael Eavis's garden (yes, I know the whole of the site is technically his garden, but there were runner beans, lettuces and window boxes)

2 Mud caked blokes running around hugging random clean looking people

3 Missing parts of performances due to the programme times being wrong

4 Queuing for the toilet/sinks in the rain

5 Not finding the Miniscule of Sound (the world's smallest nightclub, capacity 6)

6 Morrisey being unsurprisingly grumpy "thankyou, well, thankyou some of you"

7 Going home

8 Paul Mcartney ruining things by singing some Wings songs, and constantly having to remind himself where he was "Glastonberry!" Like some demented Greengrocer

9 Trying to retain some vestige of cool dancing in 6 inch mud in wellies, a woolie hat and your hood up (and trousers, I'd not entered the spirit that much)

10 Losing contact lens on the first night. Vanity was out of the window from then on

11 A rather static Kings of Leon. Disappointing as they produced one of my favourite albums of the last year or so

12 Mud clogging the wheels on our sack trolley transforming it into some sort of sledge

13 The peace and love vibe going out of the window as soon as we reached the queues to get out of the car park

14 G dropping the weed in the mud

15 Some blokes in front of us pissing n a hospital style water bottle during Orbital and waving it above their heads like some sort of trophy for the rest of the set

Highs

1 Getting an amazing massage in the healing fields. Easing away the aches and pains of bag carrying

2 Morrisey singing "There Is A Light That Never Goes Out" and still sounding brilliant.

3 Random loved up comment "This mud is actually quite sexual"

4 Discovering that vegan food can taste nice

5 Arriving home and realising "Our house is actually quite big"

6 A really tight set from Franz Ferdinand, featuring some fantastic Bruce Foxton style running backwards guitar playing

7 Orbital's last ever live set somehow incorporating "I Believe In A Thing Called Love"

8 Watching the England match with an estimated 80,000 others on the Pyramid Stage. A bit like watching it on a portable TV in the world's biggest pub, but a great atmosphere. Pity we lost.

9 The catchy piano driven pop of Dogs Die in Hot cars in the New tent

10 The killers playing two songs of a very adept in complete darkness as the lighting rig failed

11 The smug feeling you get in your tent. staying dry in a massive downpour

12 Billy Bragg delivering an endearingly witty and inspiring set of old singalong favourites. His personal songs like "The Milkman of Human kindness" as touching as ever and his political songs as shockingly relevant today as 20 years ago. Joined on stage by his young son, Jack and comedian Bill Bailey

13 The insulting rabbit in the Joe Strummer part of Lost Vagueness "You smell like the worst pestilence in the world" (on arriving home I realised he was about right)

14 Badly Drawn Boy beginning a lovely set in the sunshine with "The Shining"

15 The Chemical Brothers headlining the Other Stage on Friday. Probably worth missing an apparently churlish Oasis for.

16 James Brown, probably the weekend's coolest pensioner. Despite looking like a Butlins showband.

17 Standing around a campfire in the serene Tipi Field on Sunday night. Listening to people drumming and chanting. Then being completely amazed as about 6 people emerged steaming from a tiny tent to the side of us steaming and naked all drenching themselves in cold water and sitting next to the fire. It was about that point that we realised most of the people sat by the fire were also naked.

Apologies for those of you who prefer form of balance, but I couldn't think of any more bad points.

You'll also notice the Audioblog thing didn't really happen apart froma pretty dodgy post in front of Franz Ferdindand that sounded more like a message for my Mum. Sorry, battery power was just too scarce. Hopefully I'll get chance to post more photos tomorrow.

2004-06-25T19:20:00.000+01:00

2004-06-22T22:12:00.000+01:00

Well, we're packed and ready to go early tomorrow. The weather forecast is looking slightly dodgy, but we're remaining positive. You can check out the web cam here.
I'm hoping to leave a few audio posts during the festival. Otherwise it'll be back to normal next Monday or Tuesday.

2004-06-21T16:44:00.000+01:00

A very low key weekend. Spent mostly stocking up on essentials for the festival: waterproofs, chocolate, batteries, booze etc etc.

G made a flag with a monkey on it (makes it easier to find the tent).

Pleas don't expect any intelligent explainantion of what the monkey signifys. We just like monkeys.

2004-06-18T13:59:00.000+01:00

I've just had a phone conversation/row with my Mum that has completely done my head in. She's been ill for a few days with "bowel problems". She has a fascination for medical matters that I suppose is quite common for people her age, but she does push my patience at times.

Mum: I'm feeling much better
Me: Oh, well that's good news, sounds like the medicine might be working.
Mum: I've been to the toilet
Me: That's a relief, it seems like you're on the mend
Mum: It was enormous, and black and quite painful, really hard, about the size of half a loaf of bread......
Me: Mum, there's a certain level of detail I need to know, and I think you've gone way past that!
Mum: Oh I have to edit everything I say to you do I?
Me: Well yes, we all do, when we speak we make decisions about what words to use, and choose appropriately (slightly patronising from me there). You don't have to tell everybody everything!
Mum: Oh I might as well be dead for all you care, you'll read all about this in a novel one day (I think she meant autobiography, but I suppose that means her word processing classes are going well)

She hung up then. I was hoping to respond with,"That'll be an interesting chapter "The day my son didn't want to know about the shape, size and texture of my faeces", I'm sure it'll be a cult classic".

The weather forecasts are looking a bit grim for next week. I think I may need to buy some wellies at the weekend.

2004-06-17T15:37:00.000+01:00

Mum came around with a selection of "handy" things for Glastonbury. A 1950's camping stove which seemed great until the cartridge blew off and filled the house with butane. Some "jumbo" clothes pegs, not sure why- I don't think we'll be doing much laundry, and a gardening kneeling mat. Ho hum she means well.

If anyone want a Google email account please drop me a comment or email. I've got some spare. For those who don't know what I'm on about. Google have recently launched a web based email service with 1gb of storage (which is quite a lot). They're only currently available to Blogger account holders, and it's actually pretty good, much better than yahoo, Hotmail et al. I've got one for grabs, so if you want to make sure you "bagsy" your name before they go on general release then shout up.

2004-06-16T19:54:00.000+01:00

I was hoping to announce some good news today. Unfortunately though, as seems to be par for the course for this recruitment process everything hasn't gone quite according to plan. My application for this job was originally made in early April. Today I was supposed to be meeting the MD/Owner of the company and one of the directors. This was to "rubber stamp" my appointment. However I arrived to be met by the director who apologised that the MD couldn't be present as he was off sick, and tomorrow he's away on holiday to Cyprus for two weeks. My heart sank, as I presumed that I'd have to go through all this again on his return.

Apparently this might not be the case, but she said she wasn't sure what the MD would decide. I was initially quite angry. I really don't understand why the interview wasn't postponed until his return if there was any doubt as to whether a decision could be made without him seeing me. On a brighter note the interview went well, like the previous two interviews very relaxed and no difficult questions. The Director actually apologised and said that as a company they were rubbish at communicating, and she didn't realise that my application had been going on for so long. I was also felt vindicated by the news that the online course they asked me complete and produce a report on has now been withdrawn. Apparently due to technical problems. This makes me feel a lot better as at the time I felt quite bad about producing a negative report, highlighting all the bugs and generally slagging it off.

Meanwhile Glastonbury preparations have been stepping up. I ordered a couple of Maglight torches from Ebay (shock) a steal at £3.50 for the pair. I must admit I feel quite guilty, I used an Ebay sniper, a service that bids on your behalf at 5 seconds before the closing time. G's just been over my shoulder saying that I shouldn't tell you all about snipers as they're unethical. I then reminded her that she'd used one to procure 40 vintage buckles on Sunday (it's begining to look like a flea market around here).

I've also been having great fun producing a pre Glastonbury CD featuring some of the bands due to play. I'm actually quite looking forward to seeing some of the more old-school acts. I'm particularly excited about about Sister Sledge (yes, I know that's a bit camp) and Toots and the Maytals, who were excellent on Later with Jools Holland last Friday.

2004-06-15T16:24:00.000+01:00

Sometimes I wonder about this town. Switching on the local radio in most places is usually a cringe-worthy exeperience, but ours has got to be the worst. I usually try and time it so I only catch the football news but unfortunately usually end up listening to some of the programming. The competitions are the best/worst. A few weeks ago I caught a trailer for the breakfast show, presumably this was one of the highlights of their flagship show, chosen from over three hours of content. The host calls a member of the public "Congratulations, you've won a tenner!!!" and the sad thing is this chap seemed totally ecstatic. If we were in some third world country I could understand, but this chap was almost in tears. Other pprizes I've heard offered are a free MOT test, a free eye test and free admission to a "Golden Oldies" (their description) night above the Co-op (I wasn't aware, there was a venue there, I'm guessing there is and they've not just tidied up one of the stock rooms).

Many of the presenters have some sort of speech impediment. You'd think this would would be quite a barrier to getting a job in radio. But they all seem to be working at one radio station. As far as I can tell it's a commercial concern and not some sort of scheme, if it was it would be applaudable, perhaps they could apply for some kind of special funding. For years they had a news reader, and I'm not sure whether this counts as a speech impediment, but he always sounded like his false teeth were going fall out. Making a sort of whistling "shushing" noise as he delivered the hard hitting stories of the day.

Understandably this sort of broadcasting does have a certain appeal. Certainly not pleasant, but interesting, you know you shouldn't be listening but still can't resist. The audio equivalent of a car crash.

2004-06-14T12:27:00.000+01:00

Another fun weekend. Friday night we rushed across to Nottingham to see the end of year shows of G's students. I'm always amazed by the quality (not that I know much about art and design) that they produce. This year was even better and all of it was displayed in a very imaginative but professional way. Of course I was acutely aware that some of the students were incredibly curious about what G's partner would look like. Mostly because of paranoia on my part, but I always feel slightly "on parade" at such occasions.

On Saturday Douglas and Imogen came to stay with. They'd arranged to see some friends in Nottingham and as our place isn't too far it made sense for them to stay here. On Sunday we had a barbecue and G's Mum and dad came from Leeds to join us. All good fun especially when G's Mum went into great detail about "trimming her bush". Luckily she was talking about a plant. Then G's dad began to discuss a type of plant for scaring off cats, apparently called "Piss Off" plants. I hadn't heard of these before, but confirmed they exist after a quick Google. However appropriately for the mood of the afternoon he kept referring to them as "Pussy Plants". Which straight after the discussion of G's Mum's bush was almost too much to bear.

I went across to Quentin's to watch the England match. G didn't come despite promises that she's going to try and show a little more interest in football. We're completely gutted, if not surprised. It was a better match than I expected. I've still got high hopes for us making the next stage.

2004-06-11T14:39:00.000+01:00

The job saga continues. I received a call this morning 24 hours after they said they'd call me (they've always missed the deadlines they set themselves by at least 24 hours). They now want me to meet the owner of the company. The guy who interviewed me is recommending me for the job. I should probably be leaping around for joy, but my initial reaction is "For fucks sake!" It's not even a high level job. I dread to think whether they mess about so much for every decision they make. They presumably have to hold a focus group before buying coffee.

A few months ago I'd have probably told them politely to shove it at this stage. However unfortunately I can't afford to be that choosy at the moment. Anyway I haven't officially got the job yet, the MD could end up hating me, But I suppose it's good news, sort of.

Nothing exciting planned for the weekend. Going to see the final year shows of G's students this evening. Douglas and Imogen are coming to stay tomorrow (sorry- that is quite exciting). Plans for watching the Engerrland match are still to be made.

2004-06-10T10:43:00.000+01:00

When I was working I had to drive a lot. Some of my most joyful memories were driving through a small village in Cambridgeshire, called Three Holes. Of course I could never resist the temptation to call everyone I knew to inform them "I'm going through Three Holes!", Usually patching the old joke on the end "It's a funny place, looks quite small but quite roomy once you get inside". Sorry.

Anyway in this spirit Id like to point you towards this site that will provide amusing place names near you. I'm eagerly arranging a trip to Jug Hole Wood as we speak. Thanks to Boing Boing for the link.

2004-06-09T13:55:00.000+01:00

Received our Glastonbury tickets this morning. I've been doing what I always pledge not to do. Looking through the line up and deciding who I'd like to see. Already I can see loads of clashes, and already I'm sure we'll just go with the flow instead of streaming from one end of the site to the other in order to cross acts off our list. It's difficult not to look though.

Nearly every area has something I'm sure we'll want to see or do. In the Cabaret Tent I'd quite like to see camp Canadian comic Phil Nichol and legendary stand-up Jeff Green. In the Dance tent I quite fancy the Scissor Sisters, Goldie Lookin' Chain and the Stanton Warriors. In the Avalon field Adrian Sherwood and Blue States are on my list. The full on madness that is the Glade area offers Breakbeat maestro Freq Nasty and the legendary Jeff Mills.

Obviously I'd like to see personal hero Billy Bragg in the Leftfield, though I've said this before and never caught him. We also intend to spend quite a lot of time in Lost Vagueness. The area that probably typifies the character of the festival. We intend to book a silver service meal, play in the casino and possibly get involved in a roller disco. There's quite a few acts on the New Stage that I've heard bits of and would like to see: The Bees; The Killers; Dogs Die in Hot Cars and Hope of the States.

The Other Stage looks like being the best for me. Friday offers a fantastic line up: The Rapture; Snow Patrol; Franz Ferdinand; Goldfrapp and The Chemical Brothers. Which leaves me in a quandary as there's loads of other stuff on at the same time that I fancy. On other days there's: Bassment Jaxx; Gomez; belle and Sebastian and The Divine Comedy.

The Pyramid Stage is the area where we usually spend least time then end up regretting it when we get home as you're told how good so and so looked on the telly. I once came home and Mum told us that Moby had played an amazing set (I immediately scurried off to fling my Moby CD's out of the window). There's an awful lot of stuff that perhaps we're not that bothered about, but almost feel compelled to see, just because they're there. It'd be rude not to see these mega stars. Just like it'd seem odd to go to Paris and not see the Eiffel Tower. The Highlights here must be: Oasis; Kings of Leon; Groove Armada and Elbow (all on Friday!) and also Paul Mcartney on Saturday. Sunday should be fun with James brown, The Libertines then Morrisey.

Anyway all this is making me feel ill. Too many decisions to make. If anyone thinks I've missed anything vital please leave a comment

2004-06-08T12:04:00.000+01:00

An excellent weekend. Friday we discovered a superb curry house (the tapas bar turned out to not actually serve tapas-interesting marketing concept) in an amazing old 1930's theatre we never knew existed. Sadly given the desperation of the propietors pleas to tell everyone, I suspect they may not be around for much longer.

Saturday was spent mainly cooking for our guests that evening. I cooked asparagus vichysoise, beef carbonade and chocolate orange pots to finish. All very civilsed, though I think things began to go a little adrift with the pre-dinner vodka cocktails. Montague and Marcella, Patrick and Quentin and Crystal were all in attendance.

My recollection of events after dinner get slightly hazy. I know at about 11.30 I decided to fire up the chimnea. Despite the photo I don't think we put petrol on it. Though I'm sure the fire lighting scenes wouldn't look out of place during the first ten minutes of an episode of "Casualty".

Of course I awoke on Sunday feeling a bit poorly and bearing several mystery bruises and scratches (G informs me that I fell into one of the flower beds).

Yesterday was a busy day, spent mainly driving. To and from my interview (went well, thanks for asking) and to the doctors. It appears I may have some sort of dust allergy and have to buy new mattress and pillow covers. At this rate I'll be in a plastic bubble in six months.

2004-06-04T11:26:00.000+01:00

Oh, and I nearly forgot this: "Too Orangey for crows" , thanks to Link Machine Go.

2004-06-04T10:29:00.004+01:00

The most uneventful birthday in memory. If I'd been any more inactive I could have been an entry for the Turner Prize. I spent most of the day looking out of the window waiting for the postman, who didn't come. It was like a parody of the 1980's Royal Mail advert, apart from I wasn't a little girl and the postie didn't even come and take the piss.

No jobs to apply for in this weeks papers. Got a call from the job I went for ages ago, wanting to re-arrange my second interview, they seem pretty disorganised, but I suppose I'm not in a position to be choosy at the moment.

On a more positive note I'm off out for some tapas with G tonight. This may confuse my chums from Leeds- no Georgina isn't amazingly broad minded, it really is tapas. Whilst I lived in Leeds, for reasons not funny enough to go into here, tapas was always slang for a lap dancing club. Tomorrow Quentin, Patrick and Montague are coming across for dinner, which sounds civilised but will hopefully end up messy.

G's off taking a group of students around Birmingham. I asked what they were going to see in Birmingham expecting a list of galleries and museums. No, they're going to Selfridges (they don't by the way) and generally "around shops". It's amazing that she manages to co-ordinate college trips around her hobbies. Last month she went to the Tate Gallery and ended up trailing a posse of students around haberdashery stores looking for poncho equipment. Pah, I'm glad I'm not paying taxes.

2004-06-02T14:25:00.000+01:00

After returning from my trip to Cardiff I'm not really been in the mood to do anything much. The trip was a brilliant one. Quentin picked me up on Sunday afternoon and we headed off to Wales pipping and waving (along with the occasional ~~mentally ill~~ 70's style thumbs up) at our fellow fans. We were staying with our friends Bernard and Summer and their daughter, Olive, in a seaside town near Cardiff. We immediately went out for a few beers to calm the nerves.

Monday was match day and we got the short train ride to Cardiff, to be amazed by the carnival atmosphere on the streets, and we were also impressed with the convenient location of the stadium, just a few yards from the central station. We had several beers and both sets of fans seemed pretty friendly, we certainly didn't see any trouble. The stadium itself is a benchmark for good design. We were in our seats in seconds and had an excellent view despite our seats not being the most expensive.

I can hardly bear to talk about the match. It was certainly entertaining, and I felt we dominated. We also scored a goal in the final minute only to have it cruelly disallowed. There was then a tense period of extra time. We then saw our first penalty saved, then the second one missed by our star player in truly spectacular style. Our Yorkshire opponents duly scored all their spot-kicks and we were condemned to another season in the basement division.

The journey home was a miserable one. It certainly wasn't helped by seeing scores of our jubilant opponents proudly flying their scarves and flags from their windows. One of the most moving moments of the whole affair was getting a text from G immediately after the game "You deserved to win that". It might not seem like much but given that she's usually aggressively ambivalent (I know it's an oxy-moron but it's really the only way to describe it) to anything to do with football, it was quite an unprecedented show of empathy. She'd apparently watched the match from the gym and wished she'd come with us!

It's quite hard to say but we did thoroughly enjoy ourselves, but I'm now feeling pretty physically and emotionally drained.

But.....

It's my birthday tomorrow!

2004-05-29T15:27:00.000+01:00

Motor Show Fun.

2004-05-27T18:03:00.000+01:00

Endured my three monthly review at the Job Centre yesterday. It transpires that now I'll have to go in once a week for an individual job-search with my personal advisor, Gail. This would be fine if I wanted a job as a cleaning lady, lockstitcher or security guard- seemingly the only jobs they seem to advertise.

Gail seemed well meaning but not particularly well informed, she didn't know the difference between a web site and an email address for example. So I've got a feeling these sessions may prove a little pointless, however I don't have much choice in the matter. She also annoyed me by displaying a school-teacher attitude towards the end. I explained that I may be late for my signing on session next Tuesday as I would be travelling back from Wales (Play Off Final). She said, well the match is on Monday, I began to explain that I was getting a lift.. but she shouted over me ....."BUT! BUT! BUT!......" I couldn't quite believe it. Surely they're supposed to pretend we're customers (even though they probably believe we're idle scum)? So I left feeling like I'd had an encounter with Pauline from The League Of Gentlemen.

Shetland Tony is coming across tonight, and as he has a spare ticket we're off to the Motor Show in Birmingham tomorrow.

2004-05-26T18:56:00.000+01:00

Not that I've suddenly become interested in incongruous musicals, but last night we went to the first night of Slam Dunk at the Nottingham Playhouse. It was billed as a hip hop musical about basketball. We arrived to find the theatre absolutely packed with a really young audience, average age probably about 17, which can only be a good thing.

The physical and verbal athletics of the performers were amazing. The performance was certainly at it's best during the brilliantly choreographed dance/basketball pieces and the rapping musical numbers. But the whole thing was let down by a sub Jossy's Giants plot. It appears that the Writers/Directors decided they wanted to do a piece involving dance, hip-hop and basketball then cobbled together a story on the back of a fag packet. The characters weren't really given any good dialogue and as a result they were trying wring the best out of what they'd got which meant the performances sometimes verged on the hammy side.

Having said all that we both thoroughly enjoyed it. It was worth seeing for the dance/basketball set pieces alone. I'd also go and see another production by this company (Nitro) in the hope that next time the story would match the vitality of the performances.

2004-05-24T16:28:00.000+01:00

Had a great weekend. Saturday night cooked a meal: French onion soup with Gruyere croutons, grilled mackerel fillets with chorizo hash and peaches poached in a basil and chilli syrup (pictured). All very nice, was slightly disappointed as the peaches were a bit under-ripe and the syrup was a bit too sugary, the basil and chilli worked though.

Sunday morning went down to the football ground, with a view to buying tickets for the play-off final in Cardiff next week. However There was utter chaos, thousands of people none of whom seemed to know whether they were in the right queue. Apparently at the kiosks there was even more dis-organisation, piles of cash and tickets everywhere. I'll get mine later in the week.

Sunday afternoon went for a bike ride into the forest. Beautiful day, had a picnic and came back via a local park. There were some blokes sailing model boats. I'd have loved one of those when I was about 10. Needless to say it was all adults. The whole thing had a kind of retro feel. Perhaps it was just the fella in the background with his "too short" shorts.

Also discovered MP3 blogs this weekend. A really good way of listening to new music. I've downloaded loads of mad stuff in the past 24 hours: an accapella version of a U2 song, a track by a Japanese ska collective; a ragga version of a Bob Dylan tune etc etc. The best sites I've seen are: Fluxblog, New(ish) and Copy Right?. But there's loads more to be found.

2004-05-23T23:47:00.000+01:00

2004-05-21T16:09:00.000+01:00

"You're an embarrassment" (Shamed In Public By Your Parents).
Part one of an occasional series

Just prior to the 1986 football World Cup in Mexico an event came to our local theatre. It was a football Q&A session. The panelists were Geoff Hurst, Bobby Moore, Trevor Brooking and I think Bobby Charlton (I could be mistaken about him). The evening was hosted by the God-like Kenny
Lynch (this was the 1980's remember).

My Dad had insisted we go as a family. I fairly reluctantly went along, and at 14 I didn't really have much choice. The event was fairly poorly attended with about 100 people in a venue that could hold about 700. The evening began with Kenny asking a few questions and prompting the players about various anecdotes about 1966. Questions were then thrown open to the audience. The majority of the people there were fairly knowledgeable about football and asked the stars some interesting questions. But with there being not so many people there things began to slow down a bit.

It was then to my complete horror I saw my Mum put her hand up. We couldn't believe it. I began to feel very sick immediately. I'm sure my Dad tried to nudge her, but that seemed to make her more determined. She'd never been to a football match in her life! What on earth could she possibly ask without humiliating us completely. After a couple of questions the bloke with the microphone came towards my Mum. We were both staring at the ground at this point. I'm sure I was leaning my head into my hand in a subconscious effort to cover my face. Here we were in front of some of the greatest football players in history, and my Mum's question was:

"What I don't understand is why you have to kiss and cuddle each other after you score"

I think that's up there with Alan Partridge asking a racing driver "What's your favorite Road?"

I can't remember what answers they gave, but they were certainly stilted. If you got together a panel of experts in embarrassing scenarios I don't think you could beat that for a fourteen year old boy. I suppose I can only be grateful it wasn't televised. At the end of the evening we shuffled out of the venue and travelled home in silence. With me thinking desperately of ways to avoid ever going out in public with my Mother ever again.

2004-05-20T10:42:00.000+01:00

Spotted an amazing news story in the local paper. During an exhibition by local farmers at Tesco, one of them took it upon himself to terminate a ducking. It was "put into a carrier bag before being repeatedly hit against the side of a trailer". Fantastic! They should also have stunned some cattle and slaughtered some foxes whilst they were at it. I presume next week they'll have a badger baiting display. You can read the full surreal story here.

The local media always makes me cringe. Last week there was a letter from a pensioner who claimed he'd invented a new game. Whilst walking his dog on a municipal golf course he'd kicked a stray football and it had landed on the green. He'd then spent the next two hours booting the ball around the course. He was so excited with this new concept he wanted to share it with others and he believed that his idea could "put this town on the map". He wanted people to suggest names for this exciting new pastime. Jesus, it's like "Last of the Summer Wine". I'm just bitter because my brilliant "Footgolf" entry didn't win.

G's search for a poncho for Glastonbury has stepped up. She's been scouring the net for poncho patterns but usually ends up at Lord Of The Rings or Star Wars sites. I reckon she should make a Gandalf one or even better Star Wars. We could have an Ewok party and I could wear this. I think I'll drop the seller an email though, I'm not sure whether it's glossy or not.

2004-05-18T17:37:00.000+01:00

I've been having some odd dreams recently. The most interesting was probably last night. I was chased for miles by a giant Duck Billed Platypus that was remarkably agile despite its stumpy legs, Snapping at my heels with its big flat beaky thing. I eventually ran into a park and up some steps and stood at the top, under siege from this creature which stood patiently waiting at the bottom. Work that one out.

Underwent the fortnightly chore of signing on today. I generally try not moan about this, as I find people can tend to be a little over-dramatic about the whole experience "It was awful, there were people wearing track suits and everything! I think some of them hadn't even been to university!". However, today I did feel a bit left out. I'm sure I was the only customer without a facial tattoo. I'm going to get one before my review interview next week. I was thinking about tear drops. Then when they ask me about how my job search is going, I can just tilt my head to one side and my face will tell the whole tragic story.

Not so good for interviews though. Unless there's a sudden demand for sad clowns.

2004-05-17T17:14:00.000+01:00

Well I did it. To be fair it was relatively easy, the main problem being the sun. By the end of the 20 miles both myself and Quentin were a delicate salmon pink. We’d stupidly spurned all offers of sun cream, thinking that we'd be travelling so fast the sun wouldn't catch us.

The majority of the participants seem to have opted for the 10-mile event. Meaning that when we'd finished quite a few people had gone home. Still G was there at the finish with a heroes welcome and to take a few snaps. Thanks to everyone who sponsored me.

After the race Quentin had a barbecue and we huddled around his radio listening to our teams exploit in the play-off semi final. It seems quite dated huddling around a radio, a bit of a WWII vibe, but it was either that or go down to the ground to watch a poor quality big screen for £10. It always strikes me as being quite odd people singing and chanting at tv or cinema screens during sporting events. It's one thing making some noise to encourage the players and intimidate the opposition if your there, but to a screen?

I've got the details through of the online course that I've got to do as part of the selection process for the job I've applied for. The idea is I do the course, see what I think, it's the type of thing I'll be supporting learners in. I've done it, but I've noticed quite a few bugs and errors. I'll obviously have to be diplomatic when giving feedback, but surely they'll respect me more for raising the issues than just saying everything was fine and dandy?

For the past few days been enjoying the music I copied from Percy's ipod,. I double d my music collection in a few hours. Needless to say I wouldn't want anyone to scrutinise my CD collection in its full glory, but so far I've spotted some Def Leppard and Deacon Blue amongst Percy's collection.

2004-05-14T12:45:00.000+01:00

It's all gone a bit quiet........

Our guests have left after a fantastic few days.

They finally arrived at about 8.30 on Tuesday after a further delay. I had to hang around at the service station near the airport for about 90 minutes as I didn't want to pay extortion airport parking charges. Whilst there I was approached by a marketing research guy, who seemed amazed when I enthusiastically agreed to take part in a survey about chocolate. I pondered each question at a length and depth I'm sure he'd never seen before. It was all a bit like getting the Jehovah Witnesses at the door and inviting them to stay for the weekend. I managed to make the whole process last about 40 minutes. He looked relieved when it was over.

On Wednesday I took them around Edwinstowe- the home of Robin Hood and to see the Major Oak. Luckily G was at work or we wouldn't have been allowed to go. She always claims that it's boring and "Just a crappy old tree", however our guests were suitably impressed, which was a personal victory for me. Though I must admit the tree always remind of a really really old person, who you see on the regional TV news every so often, "102 and still going strong!" but in reality they look fucking terrible but your fascinated that they're somehow still alive. Well the tree is a bit like that, with every branch having it's own steel girder walking stick.

On Wednesday night we went into Nottingham and had a few drinks after meeting up with Patrick and Montague. They took us around loads of select little bars hidden up alleyways that we'd have never found on our own. It seems that the fine bars of Notts can hold their own against some of the best that Paris has to offer.

Yesterday we went to GO APE in the forest. The most fun you can have with a load of ropes and some really tall trees. We also cycled about 15 miles, so now I'm feeling a bit the worse for wear. Nothing to do with the vodka cocktails we had on our arrival back home.

All in all a really fun few days. Only slightly marred by Percy's observation that my hair now has a kind of sheen "Like a dominant Silverback Gorilla". Also he revealed this morning that since being made redundant like myself he now gets French dole money which is 75% of his original salary! He now gets much more benefit than I ever got paid when I was working! He can claim this for 2 years!! My jaw has only just come off the floor. Vive Le France!

Still not heard anything about the job.....is no news good news?

2004-05-11T10:10:00.000+01:00

Just sat in Sainsbury's near G's work killing time before going to collect our friends from ~~East Midlands Airport~~ Nottingham East Midlands Airport. Discovering the joys of broadband (we have narrowband at home)on this pay as you go thing. I've just checked the airport website and the flight is cancelled, due to industrial action. Obviously being a socialist I can only support my French comrades in their struggle. But honestly what a bunch of ~~tossers!~~ tosseurs! So fitting national stereo-type.

So it's back home, fingers crossed that the next flight will actually take off.

2004-05-10T20:57:00.000+01:00

The interview went well. Interviews that are so stress-free can sometimes be a bit worrying. No real tough questions, just "tell us about yourself" and "what do you know about the job?" type stuff. The usual process for me now is to mull over the job for the next few days, finally convince myself that I really want it, then get a letter saying I've "Not been successful on this occasion".

The only other real thing of note is the candidate before me looked like a cross between the Punch and Judy man from "Hi De Hi" and Ray Reardon. He was apparently up for a different job. Snooker playing puppeteer probably.

Percy and Cassandra are with us tomorrow until Friday, so there's not likely to be many entries. I'll return, no doubt with a comparison of our little town with the delights of Paris or at least some form of cross-cultural hilarity.

2004-05-07T17:09:00.000+01:00

Got some good news today. I've got an interview on Monday. I know the drill, not to get too excited, but after over two months of not hearing anything back from numerous applications this is a bit of a boost. Especially given that this was a hand-written application form, G's suggested that they've invited me in because they can't read it and they're intrigued.

I'm dreading telling my Mother. On the phone she has an annoying habit of asking you repeat everything. I've got a horrible feeling she takes notes. Handy for getting her facts straight as she's gossiping to her little friends. And then the next day she'lll tell me that Joyce, the Golden Greeter at Asda thinks that X is a good company and I'll do well there.

The last time I had an interview she gave me the following helpful tips:

1) Don't be late
2) Make sure I know where I'm going
3) Shave (I usually do but for some reason she seems to think I might decide that the Gerry Adams look would be just the ticket for an interview
4) Polish my shoes
5) Don't shout ("You usually do when you're talking to me")
6)Don't wave my arms around, or bang my fist on the table (See no 5)
7) Don't talk to them through gritted teeth (see numbers 5 and 6)
8) Take a clean handkerchief
9) Iron my shirt
10) Wear a tie

Each of these invaluable hints was made in a separate phone call, in addition to two other phone calls on the day to ask if I was nervous. Cheers.

It's on Monday, wish me luck.

2004-05-06T22:21:00.000+01:00

It's quiet days like today that I rue blogging opportunities missed. Last week I had the opportunity to see something that could only have been blogging gold. G went to see an amateur dramatics production of a musical play about the miners strike. I find the whole concept of musicals in general quite a difficult one to deal with. But one about such a serious issue just seems plain wrong.

However G returned saying it was really excellent and moving. As I wasn't there I can't pass any comment. I had the chance to go and I missed it. Even if it had been brilliant it would still have been quite an amazing topic, a good musical, involving men trying to be butch and singing simultaneously!

I got some exciting news today, our friends Percival and Cassandra are visiting us from Paris next week. Making a brief stop before setting off on an around the world jaunt for at least 18 months. We've not seen them since our visit last August to France. In a stiflingly hot Paris with pensioners dropping like flies and a national shortage of fans. We didn't realise the weather was particularly extraordinary until we returned and saw news stories with people bathing in the pools beneath the Eiffel Tower. We'd thought this was normal practice, but it turns out that it was the first time in history it had been allowed.

On her return from work I excitedly informed G of their impending visit "Guess who’s coming to see us?" "Santa Claus?" she replied, seemingly without a hint of irony. It seemed quite an anti-climax breaking it to her that it was merely our friends we hadn't seen us for ages rather than a folklore character. Perhaps I should make them dress in festive outfits to make up for the disappointment.

2004-05-05T18:28:00.000+01:00

It was the lunar eclipse in the UK last night, and G was increasingly irritated that I was quite excited about it. Running from the front door to the back trying to catch a glimpse of the apparently red moon through the cloud. Disturbing her viewing of the appalling "Cutting It". I saw nothing but clouds with a slightly pink tinge and received the rebuke "You're like your fucking Auntie Jean", which translates as "Stop being a hippy twat" in our house.

I'm currently applying for a job that requires a passport photo with the covering letter. I'm going to have to get my haircut tonight. I normally keep my hair in a number two crop, but it's getting a bit long and I'm looking a bit like Lennie Bennett. Thanks to Jasper for finding the link, I'd hunted high and low for an image, I'd begun to think he'd managed to erase himself from the web as part of some sinister plot.

G has the pleasure of cutting my hair with the clippers. An experience not unlike shaving a badger. Not that I've ever shaved a badger, or any other animal. There's probably websites for that sort of thing if that floats your boat (www.shavenbadgers.com or something, don't try the link, there'll be dozens of pop-up boxes involving lambs).

So I need to decide whether I'm smiling (mental) or not (prisoner of war). Chatting to Jasper on Yahoo Messenger (excellent displacement activity- we're like a pair of budding Leslie Granthams) earlier he unhelpfully suggested I did a double thumbs up. Still it'd make my application stand out and they might get some sort of government grant for employing me.

2004-05-04T11:38:00.000+01:00

A busy few days hence the brief blogging lull.

On Thursday bought a bargain 2nd hand imac from the paper. The numpty who owned it did a really good job of selling it to me when I called him "Well, they're just not very easy to use are they?". I bet he's a salesman. We went to see it and beat him down another tenner, a steal at £40. We felt quite guilty on the way home, The same model is selling on ebay for £250.

However we later didn't feel quite so bad when we realised he'd done his best to fuck the machine up completely and lost the installation disks. So a fair amount of time has been spent struggling with that.

On Saturday as apart of Quentin's Birthday celebrations we set off on a minibus into Yorkshire to see our football team play. In a very grubby but friendly and working mens club we met Leeds neutrals Douglas and Barnaby. After a few pints of bitter (drinking anything else would have appeared camp) we shuffled off to the game and watched our team ruin the locals promotion party in style. Bolstering our chances of a trip to Cardiff in a few weeks and yet again prompting more patronising comments from the Leeds contingent.

We'd planned to have a few more drinks about half way home, but our driver (a Sam Dingle lookalike Emmerdale fans) somehow managed to drive about 50 miles in the wrong direction and we were all too pissed to notice or do much about it. We eventually had our "half way stage" drinks about 10 miles from the ground.

Sunday was spent mostly mucking about with the computer and recovering. Whilst Monday was fairly hellish. G had bought a new desk for the computer on Friday, cunningly visiting Ikea at about 7pm. There was a horrible realisation on Monday that she'd measured the space incorrectly and we'd have to return on a bank holiday Monday.

The trip was predictably awful, about 40 minutes to get parked up and then about 20 more minutes shuffling listlessly with thousands of other zombies to get to the desk we required. The scenario at the checkout was as bad as it could ever be, desperatley trying not to monitor the speed of the other queues, but it became hoplessly clear that ours was by far the slowest in the store. Murmuring under our breath "What is the stupid bitch doing? Has she been employed as some sort os community scheme?"etc , then typically we were all smiles when we arrived at the till. Hypocritical yes, but it gave us something to do whilst we were waiting.

Got home and spent the rest of the day hitting my fingertips with a hammer trying to re-wire the phone line to the other side of the house. The computer is now in place and pretty much sorted. Well apart from the fact it will only print in mauve (I think the technical term is magenta), quite fetching but not what's required for covering letters. Not the sort of jobs I'm applying for anyway.

2004-05-01T23:33:00.000+01:00

Apologies for no entry yesterday. In the meantime a photo G took today (I'm sorry for those of you in the comments who already know what a goat looks like, but you'll have to bear with us).

2004-04-29T15:28:00.000+01:00

The asparagus season has arrived. I never thought I could get so excited about our local farm starting sales of a new type of vegetable. Not very punk rock is it?

Nevertheless I'm thrilled. Only in the past two or three years have I got into the culinary delight that is British asparagus. All other vegetables (apart from peas and sweetcorn which don't really count) are a bit of a drag to eat, but you nonetheless eat them for the greater good. Aparagus is just different altogether, it 's a treat. There's also an added bonus that you can eat it with your fingers, which always seems somehow more fun. conjouring up images of Henry VIII throwing legs of lamb over his shoulder.

If you've never had it just try it as a starter. Keep your eyes open for local farms or markets selling it, as it's still quite expensive from supermarkets. Chop off the really woody thick part of the stems and boil it for 2-3 minutes in salted water. Serve it with good butter (that posh French unsalted stuff if you can get it). You can just put a knob of butter on it, or serve with the butter melted in some sort of dipping dish. Add black pepper and eat with your fingers.

Last night I boiled it as above but dressed it in balsamic vinegar mixed with three parts olive oil, and topped with black pepper again and a few Parmesan shavings (use a potato peeler). You can also try griddling it or roasting it in a hot oven and topping with strips of crispy bacon (fried with a smashed clove of garlic in a splash of olive oil).

All this and you've got the added bonus of it making your piss bright green and extra smelly (even I could smell it- the pills must be working). It's really odd, God knows why it does it but within about 30 minutes of eating 5 sticks your wee is the colour of 1980's fingerless gloves (the green ones-if your urine is fluorescent pink please consult a doctor). Oddly it seems a bonus that it does this. It sort of makes it special. Or is that just me?

2004-04-28T13:23:00.000+01:00

The nicotine monster has now been dead for four weeks.

I'm completely amazed we've both managed to do it without any lapses, it's been a lot easier than I thought it would be. No moodiness or uncontrollable strops (no more than usual anyway). In fact a fairly enjoyable experience.

However, there hasn't been any great Damascus moments either. Running around taking gulps of fresh air and sniffing flowers, I suppose if I did that I would look a bit mental anyway. It's just life has continued the same, just without fags.

We have noticed that we've got a bit more money, but that goes on other things. We recently worked out G spends £15 every month on Snack A Jacks (cheese and salt and vinegar flavours).

I'm also slightly disappointed that my health hasn't miraculously improved. I've had a cold since early December, and haven't really been able to smell anything since then. The other day I was sat reading and the smoke alarm went off, I looked up and the house was a total fog of smoke, I'd left the grill on. I've just baked some bread and can't smell a thing.

Partly as a result of this I went to the doctors yesterday. She thinks it might not be a cold but some sort of allergy. I'm desperately hoping it's not alcohol or red wine in particular (a fairly regular element in my consumption patterns). Though I've not had a drink this week and I've been pretty snot-ridden. She's given me some anti-allergy pills, we'll see what happens.

So although I'm delighted to have stopped (for ever) what I now consider the most ridiculous hobby I've ever pursued (I know blogging is quite silly, but hopefully it wont kill me), there's a slight air of disappointment. A bit like being given a pair of false legs and not being able to break-dance straight away. I'm probably just being impatient.

2004-04-27T16:54:00.000+01:00

I received my first ever email in reference to this site the other day:

"Hi,
I was directed to your website when I was searching for the book shaped Elvis thimble. Would you know where I might buy these at a wholesale price? I'm interested in any book shaped thimbles. Do you know which china factories produce these? Any help you could provide would be very much appreciated"

I obviously replied to this reader explaining that unfortunately I wasn't an authority on Elvis thimbles but would be happy to keep my eyes open for a book shaped one. I can see how she got confused though, I did refer to an Elvis thimble on 29 March. an easy mistake to make.

This got me thinking- this is the only feedback I've had about the site so far. So maybe I should listen to the public and make the site more Elvis Thimble focused. There's obviously a demand for Elvis thimble news. I'd be more than happy if Elvis thimble hunters wanted to have discussions in the comments section, and if requested I'll periodically display pictures of their fave thimbles (Elvis ones only).

Now I've done this the amphibian fetishists will probably be up in arms, along with the ~~randy dog owners~~ owners of randy dogs and goldfinch fans. But what I will say that Carry On World is a broad church, there's room for you all here, come on let's have a big internet party!

If anyone does spot a book-shaped Elvis thimble, please drop me a line and I'll pass the message on. In fact you could look on it as some sort of challenge. Please keep me posted on news of your Elvis thimble quests.

I think I need to go outside more.

2004-04-26T10:39:00.000+01:00

As Promised G visited Leeds and went to see Douglas and Imogen with their new dog Malcolm. Now we've got this new camera I technically don't have to go anywhere, I can stay here rotting in my own filth whilst G can be my eyes to the outside world.

As you can see this snap of Malcolm is just before he indulged in some serious leg-sex. He's a bit "frisky" as it's politely termed in the dog world. I was wondering whether he might ultimately end up with the characteristics of his new owners. We'll know if he starts booking himself on bargain breaks in kennels around Europe every few weeks, or they catch him making doggy lists: Get new bone, dig hole, shag master's leg again etc.

On Saturday evening Jeremy came across from Leeds and seeing as though the sun had shone for more than half an hour we immediately planned a barbecue 'round at Quentin and Crystal's house. The highlight for everybody else was when their 18 month old daughter, Dolly, referred to me as "Silly Billy Rich". G said that as it's amongst the first 100 words she's learnt, it shows remarkable perception and wit. Crystal claims that she was in no way coached to say this. I suspect she's had the poor little scamp strapped into a Matrix style headset for 20 hours a day watching looped footage of the Tweenies chanting "Silly Billy Rich".

Later we rather unkindly made Jeremy watch "Love Actually". We just wanted to check that we weren't alone in finding it diabolical. A bit like slamming his hand in car door to demonstrate how painful it was when I broke my hand. Thankfully he agreed that it was one of the most painful cinematic experiences of his life. Hurrah!

2004-04-23T20:57:00.000+01:00

Enrolled on the clumsily titled European Computer Driving Licence (ECDL) today. Despite having used PC's every day through most of my adult life and my last job as a software trainer, I've no formal qualifications in IT. Aside from doing a full-time course this seemed a good option. I can do it by distance learning so I can continue with it when I find a job. Best of all it's free and I get an NUS card!

I've found over the last few months as an unemployed person you very rarely get any concessions anywhere, but with NUS, doors begin to open. Discounts in restaurants, record shops, shoe shops, even money off at football matches.

Anyway, I digress. The enrollment was the usual tedious form filling and presentation of passport photo's, but a few things jarred. I assumed distance learning would involve doing the course online, or at least on CD-ROM, I was amazed when I was presented with a thick photocopied booklet that I'm expected to work through. Looking through the aims of the first module (word processing) I guessed that I could probably do most of what was required already. So my tutor gave me a couple of sample tests on floppy disk. I've not used those in years. Perhaps I'm over-reacting, but it all seems a bit olde-worlde for an IT Department.

G's gone to Leeds for the evening, and co-incidentally Douglas called from Leeds this morning to say he and Imogen have taken delivery of their first dog "Malcolm". I've sent my trusty reporter (G) across to theirs to take some snaps with her new camera. Monday's entry might be a mini "Dog-Blog", or perhaps not.

I'm also considering making next week quite food focused. I'm fairly obsessive about eating and cooking but haven't touched on it here. Though I keep thinking it would be quite banal ("What's new?" I hear you scream), I might just try it and change tack if people start booing and hissing in the comments.

2004-04-22T20:34:00.000+01:00

G was disturbed to discover that I know the music for every race on Mario Kart Double dash. She knows this as I've apparently got an irritating habit of humming along as I'm playing. I wasn't particularly aware of this.

She complains that she wished I'd stop playing it so much and that it's for kids. I retort that it's a work of genius, and so not just for children, and besides it's excellent strategic training for my charity bike ride. She then points out that my characters of choice are two babies who drive along in a go-cart fashioned to look like a pram and asks if I plan to fire magical homing red shells at my fellow fund-raisers on the day.

She's just being silly.

2004-04-21T11:15:00.000+01:00

DVD catch up time. Watched "Love Actually", on Sunday afternoon. To be fair I suspected I might not like the film, though I do have vague memories of enjoying "Four Weddings And A Funeral".

In about the first 10 minutes my suspicions were confirmed. We'd already had a high-fiving vicar, someone saying "piss it!" (has anyone ever heard that phrase used? Poorly scripted swearing is one of my pet-hates, expect more on this with the new "blobbing" series of "Cutting It" due soon), a freaky little elf child who looks about 9, but talks like a 45 year old man and a Dido song.

To be fair I almost feel a little guilty for detesting it so much, a bit like refusing to dance to Slade at the Xmas party. The whole experience replicated the feeling I'd had the previous Sunday after eating too much poor quality chocolate. All the characters seem to have some sort of smug aura, and Hugh Grant dancing to the Pointer Sisters was one of the most painful cinematic moments I've seen in a while. The ending involving the school concert had definite echoes of "About A Boy" (incidentally, the worst part of an otherwise good film).

I'm aware people will say, well what did you expect, it's supposed to be escapism, a modern day fairy tale. But I really think Curtis has took all the schmaltz out of his previous films and amalgamated it in one over-long mess. G's verdict "I've seen toasties that are less cheesy"

2004-04-20T10:23:00.000+01:00

Went for a (bike) ride in Sherwood Forest yesterday afternoon. It was a sunny day and I was amazed to find it was really muddy. Odd, given that it had rained all day on Sunday. Anyway I was kitted up in all the latest mountain biking gear, a blue duffel coat and a scarf and cords, and very shortly ended up looking like the victim of some aggressive dirty protest. Entirely mud spattered from head to toe, like a Jackson Pollock in his brown period, I must have looked like some off-roading librarian. Rad dude, or something.

I was delighted to spot two goldfinches. In primary school I'd been taught by a woman who rather enthusiastically tutored us in all aspects of bird wildlife, somewhat neglecting the peripheral stuff like how to count and read and write. So to this day I occasionally amaze (my words) people with my encyclopedic knowledge of the bird kingdom.

When G returned home I excitedly (not jumping up and down or anything) told her about this sighting (I'm sure there should be some special Bill Oddie slang for this but she didn't teach us "street" bird watching). G's response was "Were they shagging?", I stated that they most certainly weren't, and that they were technically two separate sightings. She then said that she expected me not to blog about it as I was only interested in masturbatory revelations about fornicating toads and randy geese.

Well, that's shown her hasn't it. Anyway, hardly anybody has sponsored me for my charity bike ride on 16 May, here's a message for those who can't be bothered (thanks to I Love Everything for the link).

2004-04-19T14:55:00.000+01:00

Another fairly low key weekend, with the highlight being a few early drinks in the local on Friday. I was highly amused to find that G's alcohol tolerance has dwindled even more than mine. She was absolutely hammered after three and half pints. Somehow become quite obsessive about running - scampering up and down the landing of our house and around the bedroom. She became quite tearful when I affectionately called her "Thumper", then she challenged me to a race to the best shop in the world and back. I obviously refused (it wasn't even open) and she then became quite upset again banishing me to the spare room for the night.

Suffice to say in the morning she didn't know what the fuck had happened and was in quite a lot of pain.

2004-04-17T11:17:00.000+01:00

Yesterday afternoon, myself and G went for a short bike ride around our local park. This is the amphibian dogging site I've mentioned in a previous post. G was obviously looking forward to seeing a bit of toad sex and was obviously gutted when we found the place deserted, there wasn't even any goose cottaging.

G managed to get oil on her baby blue cardigan, I helpfully suggested that perhaps it was the most sensible attire for a serious cyclist. I wont print the response.

Whilst browsing ebay the other day, I was very concerned to see this amongst my recently viewed items. I really think G's beginning to lose it. She'll look like some sort of Sherlock Holmes!! Any ideas on what I can do are gratefully received (use the comments).

2004-04-17T11:05:00.000+01:00

OK, I've sorted out a page for online sponsorship for my Bikeathon. It's really easy, and if you do it this way Leukaemia Research can claim the tax back. I'd be really grateful if you'd sponsor me, however little, and in return I'll tell you all about my preparation.

Now, it's time to get interactive on your asses. I've noticed a certain reluctance to use the comments facility that I've set up. Trust me, the technophobes amongst you, leaving a comment doesn't mean someone can hack into your computer and turn you into a paedophile! You don't even have to leave your email address. Anyway, I'm looking for some help with my preparation for this 20 mile bike ride. I'd like you to use the comments thingy to suggest training ideas, I might even implement them and let you know what happens.

2004-04-15T15:39:00.000+01:00

The meal was interesting. In a restaurant that's regarded as posh in this little town. The food was actually excellent, as good as we'd had in many places in Leeds.

Mum's behaviour was, to start with, perfectly fine. She did harp on for a while that she was annoyed that the place was empty and that she preffered a bit of atmosphere. I then pointed out that, well, it's perhaps to be expected if you book for dinner at 6.45.

Anyway, all was going well, and then at 7.15 a big party of 18 came in, in the group were a couple of Mum's neighbours. Mum then started, muttering "God, they knew we were coming here tonight, why didn't they say anything?", Me and G said that, of course it didn't matter. This couple came over and said hello, and true to standard (more faces than the town hall clock) Mum was sweetness and light.

The evening was then completely dominated by Mum being completely obsessed by them and their party, apparently all ball-room dancing veterans. Our waiter came over, Mum: "You've got your work cut out tonight with those lot, they'll be dancing up and down the aisles", cue for the waiter to look rather confused and embarrassed. She'd then ask about how my job-hunting was going and I began to explain about having various applications in the pipeline, but it was clear she wasn't listening. "Look at the state of her! I'm going to wear my diamonds, next time I come here". Myself and G were constantly trying to distract her from spying on these people "Look at Bob, he's getting red-faced and worked up, he can't stand that dancing crowd".

I really don't know what these geriatric formation dancers had done to Mum in the past, but she was completely obsessed, giving a detailed running (bitchy) commentary for the rest of the evening. They seemed perfectly inoffensive to us. She was even angry about what they were eating, "They've got steak! That's not on the menu!", later asking the waiter, why they'd got different food, and wasn't it a special menu on Wednesdays?

Finally as we were thinking of leaving Mum said, "right, before we go I'm going to say that we're going before they start dancing down the aisles" completely exasperated I just said "Please don't", I felt like crying at this stage. Ushering her out as swiftly as possible.

To finish off the evening perfectly she complained all the way home that they'd ruined the night, swanning around and showing off. I think she's hallucinating.

2004-04-14T17:33:00.000+01:00

A quick one today as online time is limited this week. Myself and Quentin are planning to do a sponsored Bikeathon of 20 miles on 16 May for Leukemia Research. I was hoping to be able to organise sponorship/donations online, but after a cursory look at the websites it seems that might not be possible. However if you'd like to sponsor me please drop me an email. I'll keep you updated on the training regime, expect lots of chicken chasing. It'll be interesting,as the farthest I've ever been is about 4 miles. I'll do it for the kids though.

Off out to dinner with Mum tonight. She came round to ours for a meal on Monday. It was incident free, I don't want to speak too soon, but she may be developing some diplomacy skills in her old age. However, one thing that was noticeable is that as a diabetic her diet is appalling. She's the only person I've ever heard asking for extra cream to go with her ice cream. "Would you like more fat with your fat, Madam?"

Meanwhile the drumming continues. Or at least we think it does. It's like tinnitus now.

2004-04-13T13:10:00.000+01:00

A fairly low key holiday weekend. The major highlight was a walk in the Peak District on Sunday, after being inspired by the "Touching The Void" DVD on Saturday night.

As soon as we get anywhere rural I'm always amazed by the amount of "helloing" going on. If you wandered around a built-up area saying hello to everyone you passed there's a good chance people would assume you were mentally ill or certainly a bit eccentric. But add a few trees and it becomes normal. Not that we didn't join in with great gusto.

We managed to get lost a bit, being poorly equipped without a map (though at least we were wearing shoes, some of our fellow ramblers were in flip-flops). We were sat on a rock, contemplating our direction when one of the helloers stopped for a chat. he looked like a man who knew what he was doing, having two walking sticks, a map around his neck,a compass and some bright red gators. We blindly followed his directions, and later found he'd sent us totally the wrong way. We eventually found our destination "Surprise View", though the main surprise was that the wanky (but free) National Trust map we'd got had positioned it on the wrong side of the road. Anyway, it was worth it with an amazing outlook onto the rugged landscape for miles around.

Next door have somehow aquired a drum kit. We can now listen to them playing along to The Darkness 20 hours a day. G-s verdict- they've got some sort of rare collective autism, where they're attracted to noisy things instead of soothing lights. Despite Dr G's interesting diagnosis, this doesn't make her any more tolerant.

2004-04-09T19:26:00.000+01:00

Ok, I give up too easily. But nothing happened. the most significant event was visiting the supermarket, witnessing the usual hysterical rush before a public holiday. I wasn't there as some official UN observer. I was just there. It's like some terrible war was imminent, instead the shops were due to close for one day, to allow everyone the opportunity to eat all their chocolate.

G's been upstairs all day doing teachery stuff, marking and planning her next period of sick leave. I've been downstairs going mental, unable to get online, and just trying to make the most mundane tasks stretch out. I managed to spend an hours making some salad dressing. It was very nice though. I'm just making some ice cream (chocolate- 3 hours).

See I told you nothing happened. Some ~~fans~~ readers have complained about my irregular posting times. Sorry you'll have to live with it. My online access is limited for the next week or so. I may not be able to post again 'till Monday or Tuesday. Happy Easter.

2004-04-09T19:24:00.000+01:00

Nothing happened today.

2004-04-08T20:07:00.000+01:00

The Glastonbury nightmare continues. Whilst away G got her car serviced (she doesn't trust non Yorkshire mechanics), which cost a fortune, whilst at the ATM she saw that our account was about £240 down, the booking agency had took twice as much as they should have done. I'd been slightly uneasy about the whole thing as I always tend to make online purchases using a credit rather than a debit card in the belieff that you get some form of insurance cover. But this year it was debit cards only, in some weird measure to combat touts.

We immediately rang the helpline number, constantly busy. Sent an email, bounced back, mailbox full, found another email address, mailbox full. Found an email address for the actual farm on the festival site, explaining what had happened, and requesting an immediate response. Thankfully they responded within 10 minutes and provided an alternative number. It seems that this had occurred on quite a large scale. They're crediting us and the money will be in our account in about 3-4 working days. That's handy- after the Easter Bank Holiday, we'd planned to go away for a few days, but now can't afford it. We're planning to kick up a fair stink about this, we'll see what happens.

G's just come back from Weight Watchers and has lost 2.5lb's! She's also mentioned that she thinks I'm letting myself go, not wearing my contact lenses, shaving etc. She claims I'm getting pretty close to the "going to the off- licence in tracksuit bottoms and slippers" stage. I tried to explain that that's the norm around here but she won't accept it, she just sees it as part of my decline into a jobless layabout.

2004-04-07T15:36:00.000+01:00

Last nights events were certainly interesting. We had food and then scurried off to the pub for a couple prior to the game. By the time we got to the ground I was fairly well oiled and my football tourettes was in full effect. My team won prompting patronisng comments from the Leeds neutrals " actually this lower league football isn't that bad". Then back to the pub before ending up at mine and getting myself into the state where I couldn't sit on a chair unaided. My alcohol tolerance seems to have dwindled to that of a 14 year old boy.

Today I feel like I've been in a car-crash. I did the honorable thing and laid in bed whilst my guests cleaned up. I'd give Mikhail a reference as a cleaning lady any day. The most disturbing thing is I've got no idea what happened after about 11.30. I call it "pensioner murdering drunk", If the police came around investigating a murder that had occurred at about midnight, they'd have to take me in!

About the only positive thing to come out of all this is I'm still nicotine free, quite an achievement given all the jazz cigarettes floating around. G's on her way back and it's back to realty. Thank God.

I think now I've slain the smoking monster I'm going to give up drinking during the week, well spirits anyway, and that doesn't include Thursdays, or Fridays.

2004-04-06T10:59:00.000+01:00

G's gone away for a couple of days to Leeds. So that gives me a good chance to ~~sit around all day in my underpants, playing the gamecube and occasionally drawing on the walls with yellow crayon~~ catch up on some jobs around the house.

I have been given permission to have the lads around this evening for a curry, some beers then a local football match then back here for more beer then vodka then Baileys then cooking sherry. Mikhail and Shetland Tony are coming down from Leeds (it's a coincidence not some sort of girlfiend/mates official exchange scheme where we do a swap at a service station on the M1) and local boys Quentin and Ollie are coming across.

Now starting my seventh day free of nicotine and it's been fine so far. This evening will be a big show of strength. When tonight is over I truly will be a non-smoking colossus and will inevitably start my own internationally franchised clinics.

Oh yes, seeing as though this is the internet and all, I thought I'd show you this found on I Love Everything. Not sure what it is, but I think I like it.

You may notice I've got a comments thingy going on here now. Aside from proclaiming me as the technical wizard that I so clearly am I'd be grateful if you'd start using it. Otherwise I'll have to start pretending, and that would be quite sad.

2004-04-05T14:03:00.000+01:00

Had a great day yesterday, I'd bought tickets for the SFA a while ago on G's birthday. So we had a second round of birthday celebrations. I cooked some lovely roast chicken with pasta, and an apple crumble tart- gorgeous, and then set off to the gig.

On Saturday I had been slightly peturbed by the preview in The Guardian Guide, that made some comment about it being for 33 year old teachers with ipods. I'm 32, I don't have an ipod, but would like one, and G is a teacher, hmm.

I'd never really noticed anything unusual about the demographic of previous SFA gigs, though they'd usually been on university campus sites. As the venue filled up it dawned on me that the Guardian was about right. The vast majority of those assembled were bespectacled (I was wearing contact lenses the sneery little Judas that I am), and indeed many of them looked like teachers on a school trip. There was additionally a bit of christian fellowship vibe going on. I was completely perplexed and thrown by this. They're one of my favourite, bands producing a trail of excellent, willfully eccentric albums, always containing a pretty substantial nod to the electronica scene. So how come the audience seemed so conservative? Towards the end of the gig the band left the stage to some gloriously brutal techno, and I was sort of nodding my head, but the vast majority of the punters looked like they were about to cry. I felt like some sort of hardcore raver for nodding my head, I should have been wearing white gloves and a dust mask, I'd have probably felt less self conscious in this sea of geeks.

But the band were as fantastic as ever, playing for nearly two hours, reminding us of how many magical songs they've produced. They're sound is pretty much unquantifiable, in sheer quirkiness I suppose you could put them in the same bracket as The Flaming Lips, but often they're reminiscent of The Beach Boys. All through this I was deeply unsettled by a couple stood in from of us, the girl was facing the wrong way most of the time mouthing every lyric into her partners face with an enthusiasm and earnestness that was scary. Indeed he seemed slightly embarrassed and did his best to ignore her. I'd have been tempted to punch her.

The band put on an excellent stage show playing in front of an animated backdrop. These films are often quite handy for explaining the meaning behind the songs. At a previous performance I discovered the song "Run Christian Run" wasn't about a chap called Christian who like jogging but was actually a pithy satire on organised religion.

Overall the evening was great, I think we should wrestle this band away from the geeks. I implore anyone with ears and decent eyesight to buy a copy of their excellent recent album "Phantom Power".

2004-04-02T16:30:00.000+01:00

Dead chuffed that we actually got the tickets, well email confirmation and reference number anyway. First went online last night at about 7.50pm, very excited, also confident that they'd got it really well organised this year. By midnight I had only succeeded in obtaining "server not found" notices, by 1am I actually got on to the aloud site, and by 2am I actually got to the page where I requested the number of tickets and input our details.

This only led to more server not found notices, and occasionally "It's busy please try later". This was really frustrating, because I presumed 2.30am would be an off peak time, but they still hadn't got systems in place to cope with the flow, what chance would I have in the daytime? At this point I also had two mobiles on the go trying two different numbers, both getting constant engaged tones. I then started getting messages from the web page that there were no tickets available and I should reduce the number requested (I only wanted two!).

I was also browsing the message boards on the official site, no official word on this chaos on the festival website, though Radio 1 were saying that there were loads of tickets available and that there was no problem. This continued all through the night, by 10am I was pretty fed up. All was compounded that when I'd been made redundant I'd promised G that whatever happened we'd still go to Glasto. At this time I refreshed my screen and lost the page where my credit details were entered, I couldn't get back to it, server not found. Back to where I was at 8pm.

Then someone on the message board posted a link that took me back to that order screen, I tried it and got my a positive result straight away. Elation.

By this time festival organiser, beardy Quaker Michael Eavis was on the radio saying that everything was OK but it was just that it was a popular event, and the systems were fine. At this point I felt decidedly not in a spirit of peace and love.

Ironically the ticketing service that was selling tickets was only based in Nottingham, I could have walked to their premises several times in the 14 hours I'd been sat watching the page opening bar. Though of course in this digital age tickets aren't available to personal callers.

Anyway, apologies for a rather boring post, but I feel better now. Off to see the Super Furry Animals on Sunday. Have now been free from smoking for three days!

2004-04-02T10:02:00.000+01:00

Been up all night trying to get tickets for Glastonbury, completely knackered having spent 14 hours wrestling with the most feeble website ever. Finally got a pair, but still awaiting confirmation email, fingers crossed. More later.

2004-04-01T15:35:00.000+01:00

Got an excited phone call this morning from Barnaby in Leeds, notice outside a church: "Jesus FCUKing Saves". He wasn't sure whether it was a legit church notice or some guerilla 1 April marketing from French Connection, but it's been taken down now. This particular church is quite famous for it's slightly quirky notices, another one that springs to mind is :"GODZATHRILLA", when the film was out.

Always felt the FCUK thing to be slightly naff, especially when I saw a bloke who must have been 65 wearing a "FCUK ME" T shirt. It's really just one joke that's been milked for about two years.

It reminds me of those "Firkin" pubs that were everywhere in the UK in the 90's. The first time you went in it would raise half a smile buying your "Firkin beer" going to the "Firkin toilets" playing some "Firkin pool". But within about 10 minutes it would always begin to grate. I was always tempted to throw a piece of rubble through the window, with a tag that said "Firkin Brick".

Public service announcement, Glastonbury tickets on sale tonight, 8pm at Aloud.com, not 08 April as noted in one of the mailshots.

2004-04-01T11:04:00.000+01:00

Went for a bike ride yesterday afternoon, to a country park about 2 miles away. It's amazing how rural things can get after a relatively short distance 'round here, apart from the pit-head in the distance. In fact the whole park was fashioned from Slag heaps from the colliery. Note for international readers: a slag heap is a waste depository from the mining industry, and not a collection of wanton women.

It was all very peaceful, and I sat next to the lake/pond thing and it was a pleasant sunny day, and all I could hear was birdsong, the lapping of the water and the faint whining of mobility scooters (the park quite rightly has excellent access for the disabled). I rode a little around the lake and saw a couple of duck/geese (they looked like they might be rare) in a cool sort of mating/confrontation ritual, strutting around with wings fully unfolded and heads in the air. One of the birds was making a strange sort of Grandma choking sound. I'm not sure whether this was part of the show or if he was just poorly. He carried on doing it long after the other one had finished her bit and was wandering off. I wanted to tell him to just leave it, she's obviously not interested, you're making a fool of yourself. But obviously I couldn't. If I could, now that would be a brilliant blog, I should perhaps pretend.

I then noticed movement in this stream feeding the lake and saw what I thought were loads of frogs. I've never seen frogs in the wild before, so I was quite intrigued. I quickly realised they were all having sex, loads of them, groups of three and four all at it together. Obviously I was amazed, and sort of quite pleased with myself, this was like sex, but educational, kicking myself that I'd not got a digital camera I started typing notes into my PDA. I was just typing "Four in a (river) bed action", and was due to follow it up with "Live (river) bed show" when I was interrupted. A middle aged man in a green fleece had crept up behind me and said quite accusingly "What you up to?". The writing on his fleece said that he was a bailiff for the angling club. I'm obviously not a country boy but I'm guessing that he collects fishing fees rather than harassing people who've not kept up with their HP payments. Anyway, I must have looked quite shifty and rather than explaining that I was taking notes about frog sex to put on the internet, I just said "erm, I was just looking at the frogs", hastily putting the PDA away. Luckily this quite set him off, and he seemed quite proud "Oh yes we've got frogs here, but these are toads!". "Are they mating?" I rather stupidly asked- it was an orgy down there. He then explained that he'd once seen six of them at it in one long chain, I tried to show just the right amount of interest for him not to call the police and hastily rode off.

2004-03-31T14:37:00.000+01:00

Just heard that the director who decided to disband our department, making myself and many of my colleagues redundant, is due to be given the chop herself this week.

It's certainly not becoming to express glee at someone else's downfall. So I'll be dignified and not say much about this.

Apart from that I'm planning to rent a flat bed truck, decorate it with balloons and ribbons, and employ a steel band to play "Celebration" by Kool and The Gang, and drive up and down her street for a few hours. Followed by a sombre firework display.

2004-03-30T12:41:00.000+01:00

Today I'm starting "Allen Carr's Easy Way To Stop Smoking". It arrived on Saturday and G started reading straight away (she's got smoking listed on her CV). I first read it about 12 years ago and stopped for about 2 and a half years (smoking, not reading the book). So it did work, I can't really remember why I started again, but I'm giving it another shot.

I'm getting really sick of having a constantly snotty nose and never really being able to smell anything. Someone suggested it was nasal flu, but that sounds a little melo-dramatic. Now after having the first chapter it's clear what a boring smug twat this Carr chap was, and still is. That's why I've not put it on the links bar on the left, you certainly wouldn't read it for fun. Unless you like the idea of a book that repeats itself several times every chapter, and listening to the author crow about how much of a genius he is and that the government should give him loads of dosh.

Despite all this, infuriatingly, it does work. G's nearly finished and is about to smoke her last ever fag tonight. I think we should try and make it quite ceremonial, light some candles and build some sort of anti-smoking altar.

I've got a job application to do this afternoon. Jesus I hate those. It's so much easier to send a CV (not that I'm not hard-working or anything). Plus my handwriting is so diabolical, I'd certainly never employ me after seeing it. I'd probably conclude that I'd been told about the job by some special scheme to get ex-murderers back into the community and working again. Needless to say, that although I've made about six "practice" copies the final version will be so daubed with Tippex it'll look like some sort of ancient cave painting.

Well as long as I remain positive, that's the main thing.