Drinking alone.

In a yates wine bar. At 5.38 in the morning. Go me.

Boredom

Birmingham Airport eh? Lovely place to spend 5 hours of your life, unable to sleep. Still, at least they have the interweb so I can bore you with sleep-deprived drivel for 10p a minute. I've run out of people to text, and unsurprisingly, no one's answering. I suppose it is 25 to four on a Thursday morning.

Still, I can think of worse places to be stranded waiting for a festive flight home. Like Stansted. At the risk of sounding all American-touristy, the people here are so friendly! Very weird, you don't quite realise the "London thing" until you're spoken to politely by a 17 yr old youth in Starbucks at half past two in the morning. I actually felt he cared.

The other weird thing is that now, as the airport starts to wake up, it is no longer just me and the 25 or so other vagrants who I've been staring at since 1am - other people are arriving and the place is taking on a semblance of normality. And I'm actually getting a bit defensive. Go away! This is my airport! Stop getting in the way and making me queue for stuff and talking excitedly to one another!

I think I'm in the early stages of sleep deprivation combined with the Guinness I had before leaving London finally wearing off. So far this evening I have had a latte, read Maxim from cover to cover (took about 15 minutes. Although I did get a free soft porn dvd with it - here's hoping they have to search my bag going through security), had 2 fags, finished off reading the Confederacy of Dunces (and actually was rooting for the lead character by the end - no mean feat), bought another, larger latte and topped it off with a 2 day old re-heated panini from Starbucks. Ho, ho, feckin ho. But for some reason I am not half as depressed as I normally get whilst travelling. I think there's something odd about being about in the twilight zone - I kind of like it. Now, there are noisy check in announcements and kids and people with brummie accents everywhere and babies whinging. As Ignatius J Reilly would say, I can feel my valve tightening.

I hoped that at least a pub might be open for me to soothe the pain / make me unfit for flying, but apparently they have some degree of decorum here and only Spar is selling stuff. Mind you, with the fog the way it is, I may well yet be spending Christmas here, so best not to peak too early. A Wetherspoons boil in the bag sausage and mash would make a particularly fine turkey dinner-replacement. Just hold the peas.

There's something slightly annoying about paying premium rate fees for internet access and then not being able to look at naughty pictures.

I think I may have drunk too much coffee judging by my waffling, and have certainly written enough that I very much doubt anyone will still be reading this sentence. So, in summary, blah blah blah-did-de-blah-blah. This is the problem with travelling for me. I am forced to spend many hours alone with only my inner voice for company - and now the wonderful world of blogging gives you a scary insight into the inane ramblings that plague me when I'm not in the company of others. You think I talk shit? I hope this entry assures you that my thoughts go through a distilling process that master whisky makers would be proud of before being allowed to develop into statements.

Anyway, I had a lovely last few days in London before arriving at this point; my work is left unfinished with a storm awaiting me upon my return (deadline? what's a deadline?); I had a great night out yesterday with the polish massive and the ex-pat brigade; saying cheerio to the young lovely was a bit of a wrench this evening but hopefully she'll like the present I bought her enough to banish any pervy thoughts of Pharrell Williams from her mind after she saw him at the Academy tonight.

A text message! Woo! From my mum. Bless her. I think she's worried I'll fall asleep and miss my flight. I might not reply to wind her up.

Or I might pace the terminal again and have another fag and another latte.

Peace and goodwill to all, I hope Santa comes and empties his sack all over your living room, and you have a very merry and caffeine free Christmas.

tatt x

Birmingham international airport, 1.44am

Only 5 hrs til my flight leaves. I love christmas travel

The phenomenon taking the world by storm

After "Mo-vember" in New Zealand, my friend Helen has attracted my attention to this:

http://www.bearduarybelfast.com/

The world's gone facial hair crazy....

The London Paper

never got back to me to even acknowledge that they had printed my column or that I had received positive feedback. There have been mutterings from my friends that the text vote is merely a cunning ruse with which to fleece people of their hard earned pennies. I must say it does seem that way.

Mind you, with all this "paper 2.0" style of journalism happening at the moment (the London Paper has "the columnist", London Lite has "top of the blogs") it's little wonder that papers are happy to use free content from its army of readers. Saves £17k a year of a journo's wage, doesn't it? Let's face it, after the initial excitement of seeing my name in print and the fact that people (at least to my face) quite liked it, I am faced with two choices:

1) call it a day there and then
2) write another column for the paper in the hope that it is published again, thereby filling another chunk of otherwise empty, meaningless (i.e. written by someone else) page.

Win-win for the paper - there'll always be a clutch of people like me eager to write in, in the hope of getting "discovered"... It's kind of like a very slow, laborious X Factor for wannabe journalists. Or people with the misguided impression that their opinion is of interest to the great British public, and in need of an ego massage. Like, erm, me.

Bloggers, eh?

"Ninety per cent of the people who read your blog live within six miles of your computer. The other 10% read it on your computer."

http://www.guardian.co.uk/weekend/story/0,,1971858,00.html

Tiredness

another busy weekend almost over, but not quite, as I sit here awaiting chucking out time in the Prince Albert and the appearance of my young lovely.... Started off on Frtiday with Christmas drinks in Browns in Covent Garden with my team (couldn't afford the meal), continued through attempting to watch Goodbye Lenin on dvd, a bit of Christmas shopping, a great afternoon/night in the White Horse last night and then an early start to spend an hour in the company of 300 over-excited toddlers at "The Gruffalo live" this morning. I'm not weird, I had my four year old nephew (and his mum) down for the day as part of his chrissie pressie. Made the mistake of trying to take him into Hamleys for him to look round. We managed a very slow lap of the ground floor before making a meandering bolt for the exit again. Regent Street's lights were a hit though.

All of which has left me feeling a little bit pooped. And knowing that, rather than winding down in my last 3 pre-xmas days at work, I am going to be working like a bee-atch to get new reports rolled out before January, whilst feeling like I've had porridge syringed into my head in place of my brain. But what's the alternative? Tell my girlfriend she can't come round? What kind of idiot do you think I am?!

100% More!!!!!

Get in there! Ok, so it was quite obviously just my mates who voted for me in the newspaper, but as my mate Rich pointed out tonight, no one said I was boring.

I'm not sure who he/she is, but I need to find "Flo" and buy him/her a pint... There, nestled in the letters page, was the snazzily titled "Tony Edgar is the best columnist I've read".

You can see the full letter (plus text result at the bottom of today's columnist) here

If my ego swells any more, I may get stuck in the door.

Drink destroys lives

It also makes for an amusing friday night

what can I get from my mum for Christmas?

I'm stuck.

I'm kind of famous! Again!

Obviously the London Paper doesn't get many contributors to its "columnist" section, as they've printed my submission!!

I'm officially a published journalist now! I can think of at least three real ones I know who might disagree with that comment, but it'll do for me.

Check it out:
http://www.thelondonpaper.com/cs/Satellite/london/talk/article/1157142959810?packedargs=aid%3D1157142959810%26suffix%3DArticleController

Feel free to vote "more" by the way, by texting 88855 and saying "more Tony" or something - basically they print a "more" or "bore" poll result on Monday as to whether people liked what they read.

The biggest shock is that there's already a random comment left on the website saying that the girl "loves it". So Lorna, whoever you are, thank you. Of course, it could be might be my mate from Glasgow....

Pity it's on a Friday in a way - of the 425,000 readers, I reckon at least 424,000 are probably down the pub and not reading the paper! But am chuffed they printed it.

I might get an anonymous blog

Those of you who know me well know I am rarely bashful when it comes to disclosing what goes on in my personal life. However, some of it is not the kind of thing I could honestly say to you sober, and certainly not the kind of thing I'd want my mum to read*.

So I think I might start an anonymous blog to disclose the slightly more embarrassing things I experience. Only problem is, who would even know it was there?

*Don't worry mum, I've probably accidentally told you it all when I've been pissed anyway

I'm drinking Tyskie

In an attempt to immerse myself in all things Polish, I bought some lager from the shop this evening. It's 5.6%. And really rather nice.

Lee - a.k.a. Wattie187

Remember how i promised to thank everyone who sponsored me? No, neither did I....

Lee (left, mohican, with my mate Fliss) is next up on the list, who I saw just over a week ago when he and his dear fiancee invited me round for dinner. Yes, he is the one-and-the-same man who is making an honest woman of my friend Helen.

We had a lovely time when I was back in Norn Irn, getting a bit pissed, talking shit, and (in my case) having a crash course in metal (Lee - forgive me if this is not the genre you're into). The dvd went on, bands with names like "Slayer" ranted forth, and Lee explained why it's not all just noise. I have to say I was really interested - when we were in Roskilde together him and his mates were heading off for the more hardcore bands while I hung around with some of the girls to see effeminate indie groups. It's good to gain an appreciation for new things, and if you've ever checked out his blog, you'll know that Lee is an able teacher.

I couldn't ask for a nicer bloke to be stealing my mate Helen from the ranks of singledom - from the moment I met him I liked him, and would class him as a mate now even though, Rosklide excluded, we've maybe only met a handful of times.

But I tend to gauge fellow males on how I'd get on with them down the pub, and I could quite happily be stranded in a bar under a snowdrift for a couple of days (like that old Labbatts advert where Malcolm the Mountie had to lower beer down through the chimney) with Lee and still be gutted when they dug us out.

Cheers mate, roll on the big day.

I've been thinking of changing the blog

to a new stylee.... although I've become quite attached to this format over the last few months.

What do you reckon? Maybe it's time for a change - I'm 29 now, maybe I should go for a more mature image. Perhaps I'll cycle through the available options to an untrained html-er (i.e. all the default settings) over the next little while and hold a kind of "blog idol" with you, the voting public, deciding on the outcome. Or maybe, like so much else in my life, I'll not bother and then forget about it eventually.

My "beard". Pathetic

and no more, after a somewhat less than emphatic reception from the girlfriend.

Possibly because I look like a smug prick in every photo I attempted to take of it.

Woot!

I've just got a big ole cheque via internal mail from our "corporate conscience" department - an additional £500 for my sponsorship! This brings the grand final total to a whopping £1075.01!!!!

Thanks again everyone, any last minute guilty consciences can still pop over to http://www.justgiving.com/tonyedgar before 22 December to pledge some cash.

I sit opposite our communications manager, who is hatching a fiendish plan to embarrass me in the staff magazine. Aw shucks, I would hate that!

I'm kind of famous

Not really. But my friend Murray, the enfant terrible of the digital marketing world, used my blog as an example in a presentation at work the other day. Apparently the fact I post stuff from my mobile is quite cool - the garlic bread of the technological world in fact.

I'm pretty sure he didn't mention the £80 phone bills I'm stuck with though.

Reasons not to bathe drunk with a pumice stone

Laid Back

With my mind on my money (or lack of) and my (lack of) money on my mind.

Am very drunk on Tanqueray Gin, but also have just had a lovely bath and ripped my fragile skin apart with a pumice stone, trying to get the nicotine patch stickiness offa me. I now have no stickiness, just four bright red raw areas, which even the "magic cream" (aka my mum's Sudacreme) has failed to help. In fact it made me sting like a beeatch.

Anyway, well done Matt Willis, for winning I'm a Celebrity; unlucky to Myleene Klass who I thought was a fanny but appears to be quite lovely; well done to Ian and Jane from Eastenders for securing the award for best comedy scene this year. I'm still undecided as to whether they were trying to be serious or funny, but I must confess I wet myself the whole way through their "deep and meaningful" this evening.

I'm tool drunk to type, I need to get back to finding a pic of Britney with nae keks on....

Who'll win a trolley dash?

I notice the web counter is at 1998.

Please let me know who is number 2000! Helen S had the privilege of breaking the 1K barrier.

I guarantee a special prize, in the same way most of my friends promised to sponsor me.

I feel like Jim Carrey

I met up with my friends Helen and Lee in Belfast last night (they of " recently engaged" fame). It was very weird at points. It transpired Helen is quite a regular reader of the blog so knew a lot of things about me before I said it. It kind of cut an almighty swathe through our small talk.

TV advert comes on: Helen goes "oh! there's one of those adverts for towns! I'd never noticed that before!". Me: about to say, "funny you should mention that, I noticed that too!", only to realise she is actually commenting on the fact that I had mentioned it in the blog the night before.

Go out to the car to drive to the off-licence: Me: "I have to apologise for the car seat by the way"
Helen: "Why, because it's wet after you left the sun roof open?"
Me: "This is weird".

I feel like an extremely minor celebrity - perhaps a little above Dean Gaffney in the grander scheme of things. It is disconcerting to have people know things about you that you have not physically told them, despite the fact I am obviously sat here spouting no end of shite to you and profligating this nonsense on a daily basis.

And now we come to this. Tomorrow, or whenever she next checks the internet, Helen is going to read about me talking about her talking about me talking about myself.... If she phones me to discuss it I think the world might implode, or at the very least, my head might.

I'm off for a lie down.

That column in full

My attempt at providing some froth for the long commute home - not sure the girl in question will appreciate it:

"I have recently started seeing a very pretty young lady. I think we like each other. You know what it's like - boy meets girl, boy and girl decide they like each other, boy and girl subject everyone within a ten metre radius to copious public displays of affection. It disgusts people the length and breadth of the capital every day - except of course, the two protagonists.

Unfortunately said pretty girl, being a sweet and sensitive soul, ends up with an unfortunate rash on her chin each time we kiss, caused by my Desperate Dan-style, match-lighting stubble. Ever the gent, and taking advantage of a week’s holiday from my clean-shaven place of work, I decided to grow a beard, partly to see if it appeases the problem, partly because I have never had one before.

Unfortunately, one week of “mach-3-turbo-fusion-lube-buzz-quattro-tingle” razor avoidance later, I am in possession of an itchy, downy, fuzz (with a predominance of ginger) all over the lower regions of my face – not quite the Clooney-esque swarthiness I was hoping for. My girlfriend asked for a photo of it, and it doesn’t even come out on the picture, no matter what lighting/angle combo I aim for.

So here I am, a naturalised Londoner with almost four years veteran status, nice flat in an “up-and-coming” area, varied and hectic social life, suitably impressive yet ambiguous job title, and – most importantly – 29 years and counting on God’s green earth. And can I grow a beard? Can I heck. I’m sure by the time my dad was this age he was a proper man. I, on the other hand, look a little like I have lost my skateboard somewhere.

And that is the crux of the matter. It is yet another indication that I am too young to be this old. The world progresses at breakneck speed and I am left floundering in its wake. I am not ready for babies, mortgages, marriage, pension plans, career progression, organic produce, investment portfolios, dinner parties, or – apparently – facial hair. It’s yet another area where I feel like I’m failing in the “maturing” category.

But you know what? I like going with my mates to the pub every weekend, not caring about my job, really “fancying” the girl I’m with but not seeing beyond next week, renting a flat (ok, maybe not that one), being skint (ok, not that one either) and generally feeling lost and that I don’t want it to end any time soon.

Young people of London! Stop taking life so seriously! Slow down. Responsibility, the “5 ‘til 9” working day and emulating our parents can wait. Until then, let’s all get drunk, snog loads and rub news print on our faces."

Bloody dial up #2

As I have a bit of spare time at home, I decided to try and get a column printed in "the Londonpaper". For those of you outside the capital (of England), this is a free rag that offers joe public the opportunity to pretend to be a journalist for the day. The vast majority I have seen either focus on the knucle-bitingly obvious ("Oyster cards!", "Kids playing their mobile phone music on buses!", "Isn't funny how everyone ignores each other on the tube!"), to the pseudo-intellectual / women wanna shag me cos I'm, like, so in touch with, like, stuff ("Y'know man... all of us are like, a religion, even if we're not religious, so let's just stop this intolerance, ok? Cos, like, did you know there are over 300 different languages spoken in London?")*

Anyway.... I thought I'd compose some verbal diarrhoea of the top of my head tonight, and see if it made it, despite the fact I'm guessing it's not at all what they're after. Unfortunately, I think my mother's dial up has resulted in me never finding out, as the website crashed when I tried to submit it. To be honest, it's all very confusing, as one part of the form says its a 200 word limit, the other says 500. I figured it must be the latter, so fleshed my 398 words out a bit. I thought it was 400, see. And you thought I couldn't be a professional journo....

I shall post the ramble in an extra post, as I have gone on a bit here, so please bear with me. Obviously, the wondrous design of my blog means you've probably already read it and wondered what the feck I'm on about.

Please feel free to vote "More" or "Bore". As if I don't know which way you'll lean, you cruel people....

*for non-Londoners - this is one of the first facts you get taught when you attend your "welcome to London" induction course. Did you not know we had to attend that? Aw, bless, you naive provincial country cousins.

Hello? This is 1997 calling....

I think I posted the other day that I wished it could permanently be 1999, as I was sick of getting older and growing up.

It's not quite what I had in mind, but I am currently sat in my mum's spare room feeling like it is the end of last century, tippy-tapping away on my mum's laptop, accessing the wonderful world of the internet through dial up. And not just dial up, my friends - pay as you go dial up.

Before you start resorting to stereotypes, this is not because I am in Northern Ireland - it is simply that my mother will not listen to my protestations that it really would be more beneficial for her to get broadband. It is intensely frustrating, now that the web is pretty much geared towards broadband, and I keep having to wait what seems like ages for pages to load. How did we ever put up with this?

But it is lovely to be back home for a week - first time in 6 months. I am getting in the christmas mood already, much more so than I would be in London, as all the adverts on the telly remind me of christmases past. One bizarre trend in advertising over here is that entire TOWNS have adverts on TV, trying to attract christmas shoppers to come and spend their money. Never seen that before. Lisburn, Cookstown, Coleraine and of course Ballymena, all trying to portray themselves as the shopping mecca of Ulster.

Ballymena has gone for total overkill to be honest, with the town itself and both shopping centres saturating the schedules. It's like a little Oxford street in the Glens of Antrim according to the hype.

Mind you, somewhat bizarrely, H&M have just opened a store here. I stand by the fact that I was born 15 years too early. When I was a teenager, the only place blokes could buy any clothes at all was "Sam's Boutique" on Wellington Street, which was thought of as trendy because they stocked Lee Cooper and Wrangler. Now the place is packed with skate shops, high street stores, surf shops, "urban" places stocking yer Boxfresh and Carhart, and now bloody H&M! Even Primark, which has been here since year dot, has re-invented itself - from the shop the poor kids at the high school shopped in, to the cutting edge of couture. I find it all slightly over-whelming.

I'd forgotten how utterly repellant the weather can get up here - the wind has been howling and rain lashing down since I arrived. I left the sun roof open in my mum's car last night which proved to be a bit of a bad move. Cue mum out with hairdryer this afternoon. Tomorrow, we're going to the beach for a walk. Only in Ireland, to be sure, so it is. In all seriousness, it should be really nice as long as the rain stays away. Will stick some arty shots of the raw majesty of the North Atlantic crashing over the Antrim coast on the blog afterwards. Aka "some pictures of clouds and that".

I'm starting to quite enjoy this

**Just noticed I got his name wrong. I'm sure that won't wind him up in the slightest!**

Response (Noel Mellor)23/11/2006 05:59 PM

Dear Tony

Thank you for your response. I apologise if you are not happy with the service offered by Ticketmaster, but communications of this nature are not helpful.

The full details of all bookings are made available to you at the time of purchase, along with terms and conditions that specify that tickets cannot be exchanged or refunded. By ticking the box you have agreed to the terms and conditions of the contract and by proceeding you agree that you have read and understood these terms. We can only assume that our online customers take the time to acknowledge this important information before choosing to make a payment.

My apologies that I am unable to help you further.


Discussion Thread
Customer (Tony Edgar)
24/11/2006 11:04 AM
"Communications of this nature are not helpful"

I think you've hit the nail on the head there, Neil.

I too work in a client facing environment and one of the first rules of service to appreciate is that a "one size fits all" approach simply does not work if you want to retain customer loyalty and reputation.

Are you aware that a client's opinion of your service is much more likely to improve in the event that they encounter a problem and it is professionally dealt with, rather than if they don't ever have a problem at all? Of course, the opposite is true, and if that person feels unvalued by the company, they are much less likely to use that particular provider again. Likewise, in terms of word of mouth, it is a given that people are more likely to spread stories of frustration and poor service than they are of "adequate" assistance or even good service.

We are a service driven society, and we expect companies to show that they value our custom. All this experience has done is to prove to me (and those who I have shared the experience with) that Ticketmaster places no value on the people contributing to their profits.

As you have stated twice now, and as I have accepted, you have a "no exchange" policy and I accepted the terms and conditions. However convenient it may be to hide behind these T&Cs, most companies appreciate the need for discretion when dealing with enquiries. I did not decide a month down the line that I could no longer make the showing I had booked and wanted to change it - I appreciate that as a business it would cause you untold headaches if you allowed this to happen.

However, I realised as soon as I got the confirmation up that I had made a mistake - everyone is fallible - and did my utmost to rectify it immediately. This in my mind is not the same thing. As a customer service department, your role is to service the customer. This means appreciating their circumstances and attempting to resolve their problem for them.

I hope that this communication proves more helpful for you than my previous email, or any of your correspondence to date has proven for me. Perhaps you would take these comments forward as constructive feedback from a very dissatisfied customer, and register it as a complaint. I am not convinced, however, that this will entail anything other than it going straight in the bin.

Regards

Tony

The TNPC

reconvened this evening. I had a great time - met up with Lizzi, Jennie, Craig and Murray in Goodge Street for some pintage and chat.

I was the first to leave, due to shortage of cash and my big works xmas party tomorrow (in the Tower of London, no less). I texted them when I was sat at home with my kebab to thank them for a wonderful evening - they were still in the pub having a "debate" about men and women. I shudder to think.

Leaving the pub early in my designer suit, white shirt, black tie and long black (and very nice) coat, strutting my way to the tube through Fitzrovia whilst listening to "Rio" by Duran Duran. I felt like an extra from American Psycho, and my swagger befitted it.

Life is good, readers.

The Mighty Hun

Are through to the knock out stages of the UEFA Cup! What we fail to manage against St Johnstone, we can do against the 5 and 6th best teams from leagues throughout Europe. First time in 34 years that both the Gers and Celtic are still in Europe after Christmas. Get in there.

Dear Ticketmaster....

Discussion Thread
Customer (Tony Edgar)
23/11/2006 09:18 AM
Dear Noel

Thank you so much for your complete lack of compassion. I imagine it is very easy to hide behind an email address with no prospect of anyone ever getting through to talk to you on the phone. I understand your policy and was hoping that you might understand that, despite their best intentions, people are occasionally fallible. Obviously this is not something that affects the good people of Ticketmaster. I only wish we were all as coldly brilliant as you. Thanks very much - I now face the prospect of forking out another £50 to boost your profits further or ruining a four year old's Christmas. Any thoughts on how to break it to him very much appreciated. I'm sure you probably have it somewhere it your "comprehensive" FAQ.

Regards

Ticketmaster are scum

Yes, I understand their "no exchange" policy.
Yes, I am an idiot.
Yes, they are the most inflexible, hide-behind-an-email-address company in the world when it comes to customer service.

"Noel Mellor" - I'm talking to you.


Please respond to "Ticketmaster Customer Support" tm_support@mailnj.custhelp.com

Recently you requested personal assistance from our on-line support center. Below is a summary of your request and our response. If this issue is not resolved to your satisfaction, you may reopen it within the next 4 days.

Thank you for allowing us to be of service to you.

Subject
---------------------------------------------------------------
Please help!! I've been a total idiot and accidentally booked 3 tickets for t...

Discussion Thread
---------------------------------------------------------------
Response (Noel Mellor) - 22/11/2006 07:17 PM
Dear Tony
Thank you for your email.
Ticketmaster's policy is that once a booking has been confirmed, it cannot be exchanged or refunded unless the event is cancelled. This is made clear at the time of booking. Therefore, on this occasion, we are unfortunately unable to assist you with your request.
I apologise I am unable to assist you any further in this matter and assure you of our best intentions at all times.

Customer (Tony Edgar) - 21/11/2006 10:52 AM
Please help!! I've been a total idiot and accidentally booked 3 tickets for the above show at the wrong time on the 17th December. I meant to book them for the 13.30 show but have booked for the 11.30 by mistake. I realise you don't offer exchanges but I really hope you can make an exception - the tickets are a christmas present for my four year old nephew, and he and his mum will not be able to get to London in time for the early show.

Please can you let me change the tickets - I will be eternally grateful as if my nephew cannot make it there will be no point in having the tickets.

Kind regards
Tony Edgar



[---001:002630:49514---]
Kind Regards
Noel Mellor
Customer Services Advisor
DISCLAIMER: This e-mail is private and confidential and may contain proprietary or legally privileged information. It is for the intended recipient only. If you have received this email in error, please notify the author by replying to it and then destroy it. If you are not the intended recipient you must not use, disclose, distribute, copy, print or rely on this e-mail or any attachment. Thank you!

I'm gonna take down that annoying "Sponsor Me" thing

cos let's face it, if you were going to do it, you will have done so by now. Another HUGE thanks to everyone who did - once my extra from my company arrives, I'll have raised over £1000 for Fairbridge. Am stunned.

I do still intend to thank everyone personally through the old blog - it's just that unfortunately a burd and Christmas have blessed me at once, so time is a little in short supply. I'm sure you understand.....

Another good day for the Emerald Isle....

Ireland rise to number three in the world rankings in rugby, less than a year before the World Cup (of which the final is on my 30th birthday - fate?), and the mighty Celtic march into the last 16 of the Champions League after beating Man Utd. I know I am a Rangers fan, but secretly, I wish I was a Tim. It's just not that simple unfortunately. But from a Hun, well done Bhoys, hope you get at least a round further than we did last year.

Why can't it be 1999 for ever?

I don't want to grow up. Life is too complicated.

I'm only 29 for God's sake.

As Take That almost sang, "Everything Changes But Me"

Competition time

apparently the picture below is hard to work out. So a prize in the form of a pint for the first correct / most entertaining answer as to what it is.

Unintentional

But quite cool, methinks

Congratulations!

To Helen and Lee, who have just announced their engagement!

My wee pal, all grown up! And only 28! Bless.

Am feeling all snuggly and huggy and nuzzly - congratulations guys, and I expect celebrations next week when I'm home, or at the very least a drunken party at Christmas.

Txx

Dunno if you can read this

Why does bad grammar annoy me so? It's 2am on a friday night!

Advice for men

If you happen to find yourself having a one night stand with a mussel, make sure she spits instead of swallowing. After a slightly odd conversation in the pub last night, I discovered that they reproduce by ingesting sperm through their feeding tube. Durty little molluscy whores, the lot of them.

One of my strengths...

....is that I am a very rational person.

So why then, does a trait that serves me well in 99% of my life, decide to have a nap when I start to like a woman? It phones up its mate "paranoid" to cover its shift for a couple of hours.

Boy meets girl. Boy quite likes girl. Girl seems to like boy. Boy and girl see quite a bit of each other for a couple of weeks, and arrange to meet on Wednesday. Boy texts girl on Monday to say hello and she says she's out on the piss. Boy texts girl again on Tuesday to say he's trying to think of something to do the next night; she says that she's arranged to go for dinner with a friend of hers, isn't sure when she's working over the weekend but will let me know if she's free.

Boy puts 2 and 2 together, hopefully comes up with the square root of 36129, and concludes that she met someone the night before and has fallen in love (no doubt helped by one of my multitude of inadequacies as potential boyfriend material).

Boy thinks he'll become a monk - at least then the bald spot these things help along will not look out of place.

Not bad to be in this position after 4 dates, is it?

I got to drive the DLR today

It was fun. Andy had told me it was especially good on the tunnel into Bank station. It was - just like driving the tube I imagine! Or the world's most relaxed roller coaster.

For those of you who don't know, the Docklands Light Railway is entirely automated, so where the driver's cab would normally be is just a normal seat. On an otherwise empty train this afternoon on the way home from the airport, there were blokes as sad as me filling the front four rows of the carriage. None of us exchanged glances, but we all knew why we were there. Unfortunately I felt obliged to move when a proper toddler got on and wanted to "drive", but thankfully it was only for one stop and his mum thought I was great for doing so. After that, it was back to steering the train through Canary Wharf for me!

Don't be skint on a work trip to edinburgh

You miss out on all the fun of a night out on the piss

Ging ge ge ging ging ging ging ge ging

Remember me?

Hello. Sorry I’ve not been in touch lately. It’s been a bit hectic.

The Christmas festivities kicked off on Tuesday, and sure enough I’ve ended up out every night since – hence the lack of chat.

Tuesday: Christmas arrived early in Regent Street, as I fulfilled a childhood dream of watching the Christmas lights get turned on. Unfortunately, Shane Richie doesn’t have quite the clout with my 29 year old mind as Bananarama or the cast of Press Gang would have had in my formative years, and the whole thing was a bit of a let down. Shane, Ian McKellen and Andy Serkis came out, talked into a faulty microphone for 2 minutes, and then flicked the switch, ten minutes ahead of schedule. The fireworks were nice right enough.

Wednesday: Went to Koko in Camden to see Aim. The little button twiddler behind the group looks surprisingly like Moby, and the crowd looked surprisingly how I’d imagine a Moby crowd to look. For the first time in years I was one of the youngest people there. Lots of posh twats, including one hilarious South African, who was probably called Henry, who had the best posh-boy horsey teeth I’ve ever seen! He even brayed when he laughed, and was so loud that when he talked to his girl-friend/sister (I’m not sure which, probably one and the same), we could hear him over the music. He wore his scarf for the entuire concert. Aim were a bit dull to be honest – the female singer is very competent and tried her best, but there was just no energy or atmosphere at all. Plus they relied almost completely on their repertoire of jazzy instrumentals and slow warbling numbers, ignoring all their hip-hoppy-influenced stuff. The one time they let the big Rasta dude out on stage, the whole crowd went mental – would have been nice to see more him. Koko is an amazing venue though – an old theatre with most of the original features (except seats, obviously. That would be stupid).

Last night: our annual "Oscars" awards at work, held in the pleasantly named Balls Brothers wine bar on Mincing Lane. It was a good night, bizarrely – everyone was on good form, I performed a particularly cringe-worthy dance with my boss in the middle of a big circle of managers where she waggled her free bar pass at me and I pretended I was trying to lure it away from her…. Oh god, the shame. The worst thing was that most people didn’t get the "joke" and thought I was cracking on to her. I’m gonna get myself a reputation. Made it back to Brixton in time to meet Craig, Pino & Stella, almost get in a fight with a gang of hoodies in a chicken shop (thanks Craig) and leave my bag in the pub, meaning I had to wake my flatmate up at 1am to let me in. All in all, a successful evening!

Cathy

Cathy was next to sponsor me, almost two months ago. Oops. I went to school with her, but don't remember speaking to her a whole hell of a lot. I do remember one haircut that she had in 6th year where it was sort of medium length but shaved underneath. I remind her of this every time I see her. She does not seem very impressed and why would she? It is not exactly the most remarkable thing in the world. In fact, I think she might have been many years ahead of her time, as I recall that my friend Allison, who is up on these things, had a similar 'do' not so long ago. Anyway, it was obviously too much for my rural brain to comprehend ten years ago, and left its imprint on my mind.

Over the last year or two Cathy's been out and about when I've been home at Christmas and I've learned to appreciate what a lovely person she is. Last time I saw her was in Roskilde, in her green hat (pictured) - we went to see George Clinton together and it was.... well, it was an old man standing on a stage letting the rest of his band do all the work for him. But still, I'm glad I didn't miss it, and I was glad that Cathy was there too. And let's face it, anyone who forms part of my Roskilde memories is always going to have a special place in my heart. I think she's just one of those genuinely nice people - can't say much more than that - and I hope I catch up with her this Christmas and many more times in the future.

My blog is rubbish apparently

so says Craig. It's ugly and amateurish. Harumph.

I would suggest it is at least marginally easier to navigate around than this abomination from the Belgian demi-gods, Soulwax

I have a Boston accent

at least, I do according to a "what American accent do you have" quiz I've just taken (on Jill's blog). It's probably not designed for Irish folk, but it makes sense when you think about it... I do sound quite like Tom Cruise in Far and Away.

I'm supposed to be doing something constructive

like writing people's thank yous, or looking for a job, or learning to cook, but instead I am surfing myspace looking for bands.

A conversation in the pub yesterday put it back in mind, so I have put my 16 year old hat on (that is, the one that makes me feel like a 16 year old, not the crap "Georgia Tech" baseball cap I got for my family holiday to Lanzarote in 1994), and am merrily surfing around looking for electro-punk-type bands to ask to be my friend.

Tomorrow night in the role call of sites I never use anymore - Ebay.

Fireworks

are great.

especially when you want to take a young lady out for the evening. It went so well I felt at one point that I was in a shite Richard Curtis film - I half expected a bumbling Hugh Grant to come stumbling out of the bonfire, screaming Osmonds lyrics as he rolled around on the ground trying to put out the flames.... Well, that might be pushing it a little, but I did get the impression it was all a little bit american high school drama. Which as those of you who know me well will realise, is kind of like realising one of my life's ambitions. All I needed was Sixpence none the Richer to start playing, rather than that irritating "Spaaacemaaaaannnn, always wanted you to gooooo, into spaaacceeemaaann" (there was an "alien theme", see), and we would have been pretty much there.

So anyway, thanks Battersea, had a great night.

(Oh, and a shout out to my man Guy Fawkes, without whom none of it would have been possible)

The Ian Paisley of South London?

I got a text off Lucy the other day, saying that she had seen Christian Guru Murphy at Herne Hill train station.

The name rang a bell, but I had not heard of this mystical religious Irishman. I had visions of a cross-legged man dressed in green, long wispy beard wafting in the breeze, giving out wisdom such as "where's me lucky charms?" and "sure it's only blarney, so it is" to his devoted followers..... Perhaps James Nesbitt had started a Kabbalah / Scientology-style sect in the leafy avenues of Dulwich village, his life devoid of meaning and spirituality after selling his soul and artistic integrity to the Yellow Pages for the last 5 years?

Imagine my disappointment when I read the name out loud to my flatmate Helen, and it all clicked into place. Not the saviour of lost immigrant souls, confusing sports, the "black stuff" and sausage & mash at all, but the chain-smoking co-presenter of Channel Four news.

Does anyone own a plane?

I hate trying to buy flights at Christmas. So far, the cheapest I have found involves flying at 6am in both directions, and even then it comes out a whopping 2p under the £100 mark. Quality.

Lump of coal and an orange for the niece and nephew this year then.

I love fireworks

can't wait til the weekend. Fireworks rock. Except for when they're set off in the middle of Brixton high street by a couple of little pricks, as happened at 8.30 this morning as I was on my way to work.

Funnily enough, scared the shit out of just about everyone in our gun-riddled suburb. They didn't look half as pretty fizzing about between Morleys department store and the bus stop as they will do high above Clapham Common tomorrow night, either.

I'm reading a book

This is quite a rare event for me. It's called "A Confederacy of dunces". It's very good. It's so well written in fact, and the main character is such an utter arsehole, that I want to reach into the pages and throttle him every time he opens his piggy fat mouth.

Lucy chose it for me from her mini library. I asked her for a book to read when I was leaving hers one night, and rather than just grab the first one that she saw, she spent a good five minutes looking at them, describing them, thinking about whether or not I would like it before settling on this one and apologising that another one I might like had been borrowed by someone else.

I am touched that she cares so much to put so much consideration into it. It makes me enjoy the book even more.

Happy Halloween

Mwah hah hah hahhhhh!!!!!

a knapsack on our backs

On Saturday, in a vain attempt to stay out of the pub for most of the day, we decided to walk along the Thames. Starting at London Bridge, we meandered through tourist hordes, massive riverside apartment complexes and one particularly shady industrial estate in Wandsworth, before flumping into a lovely wee bar called the Cats Back in Putney for a few well earned beers. A rough measurement on the RunLondon website showed it to be approx. 8.5 miles - not too shabby!

On the way I took a few photos - nowt too exciting but nonetheless I feel there is a dearth of shite on the internet, so here they are. The one below is Murray taken by Lucy under the MI6 building. You might have been able to tell it wasn't me from the fact it's pretty cool.

I love the Albert Bridge - it doesn't belong in London, and I often wonder how many of the throng milling up and down the South Bank ever make it far enough up river to see it, contenting themselves instead with the brutal majesty of Waterloo and the Cannon Street railway bridge. It should be in Disneyland, leading up to the castle. If I was old Prince Albert, I'd definitely be using it as a chat up line down the Pearly Gates & Firkin on a Friday night, rather than the fact that I'd had a cock ring named after me.

Popularity?

I eventually got round to starting to delete some text messages from my inbox, as it finally reached bursting point around the 900 mark. They date back to the middle of July when I got my new phone. Excluding texts from my mum, 99% relate to meeting for a pint. What does that say?

Still, as I stood in the cold and drizzle, smoking my 2nd fag in a row (substitute for a lunch break), they did take me back to a very enjoyable summer.

Me man

Me make furniture.

Rrrarrrr.

Congratulations to Craig

Who managed to shave four minutes off his PB in his latest 10K on Sunday. Go on my son.

New link

I have linked to Jill the Candian's blog, partly as a thank you for being my only multiple sponsor (an extra tenner for beating Craig), and partly because I had a look at it and she was being stroppy about the fact she had a link to mine and I hadn't reciprocated.... How was I supposed to know?!

Anyway, it's got shagging in it, so you'll probably enjoy it a lot more than mine.

Craig's doing another 10k

On sunday.

Late night observations

1) I really am crap with girls.
2) You could see the stars above Brixton last night. Makes you realise what a rare event it is when it actually happens
3) there are a surprising number of lights still on in people's houses at 1am on a Thursday night.
4) I think they deal drugs out of the West Indian takeaway at the end of my road.

yep, I had lots of time to think after being out for a drink with a girl again, and walking home alone. Again.

Birthday fun

If I've got my sums right, clicking on the link below should take you to my birthday photos at the Kodak Gallery. Unfortunately my obsession with taking shite snaps and then assuming people want to see them has resulted in me filling my Flickr account.

The photos themselves are generally a bit rubbish, and in no way indicate the marvellous time I (and hopefully everyone else) had.

Click here!

here's a few to whet your appetite:

Sanj

Oh, where to begin with Sandra....? I'd better start somewhere, it's taken me far too long to say thank you to her.

Sandra 'I'd rather' Jack (or 'White' to use her correct middle name, but I can't resist thinking of the Reynolds Girls when I say it in my head. Kind of like when Gav used to call the ex-Coventry City and Celtic goalkeeper "Magnus 'Dubnobasswithmy' Hedman". But I digress) was one of the disco-house posse of 2001.

In fact, she is the queen of the disco house (an oft-talked about living arrangement that sadly never came to frutition), as it was she who introduced me to Helen MacQ, Heather, Paul et al.

I first met her late in 1999, when I was out with my fellow librarian Katie and we went for a pint in the Cul de Sac. Her friend Sandra was back for Christmas from the wilds of Cork where for some unknown reason she had decided to go and study for a bit. Perhaps she had tired of understanding what people said.

Thankfully it was not long before she returned to the dear green place, and our friendship could begin in earnest. She is part of some of my dearest held memories of my final couple of years in Glasgow, especially the night that just the two of us went to the Renfrew Ferry for Slam vs Subculture. It's one of the best nights clubbing of my life, just full of smiling and dancing like fannies, with two of the greatest tunes at the time - Life Times by Slam and Right on Right On by Silicone Soul - being played in quick succession, whilst we jumped about, calling Helen in Brighton so she didn't miss out. And everyone wanted to talk to us as well, we were like King and Queen of the dancefloor. Anyway, I sound like an old washed up clubber - you get the idea.

I love Sandra for her amazing friendship, her self-deprecating wit that can genuinely make me crack up laughing with just one comment, her general loveliness and her 'golden' beauty. She's the star of one of my favourite ever pictures, and one of the main reasons I lament this whole "follow your dream" culture we live in that sees the people we like the most generally end up hundreds of miles apart from each other. Mind you, had I never moved to Glasgow, I would never have met her so them's the breaks I guess.

I'll stop rambling now, suffice to say, Sandra - thank you. I hope you're still loving York/Leeds and all is good with the boyf, and get in touch soon - a year and a half is far too long to go without catching up properly.

Tx

Just call me Tom

We caught the mouse in our kitchen this evening. Cheeky little bastard was wandering about on the kitchen counter at about a quarter to 7 whilst Colin and I watched telly in the next room. I'm not sure but I think it might have been suicide, as Hollyoaks was on at the time.

When we heard the trap go off, we looked round the partition wall and all but its head was sticking out of the trap and its wee legs were flailing about all over the place. We found this quite amusing, and went to find something to put it in to release it into the "wild" outside. Then it stopped moving. We thought we used a humane trap as it was only made of plastic, but I suppose we didn't account for the fragility of a small rodent's neck.

It looked so small and furry, the cheese it was after dropping out of its mouth as I took it outside. There was almost a tear in my eye as I debated putting it in the wheelie bin, before deciding that was an undignified end, and lobbing it into the undergrowth instead.

Sleep well, little man. Sleep well.

The green green grass

If money were no object my next endeavour would be to visit all 50 of the world’s 'top views', as outlined in this morning’s Metro.

So far I’ve seen two – erm, London from the Thames, and the Antrim Coast Road, which is about 20 miles from where I grew up! It’s also been named as the second best stretch of road in the world after the highway from LA to San Francisco, so it’s not in bad company. I make that strike 3 for my glorious homeland, after the exploits of the footie and rugby teams in recent weeks.

Still it took a trip half way around the world to New Zealand to make me appreciate it. Growing up it was associated with boring Sunday trips in the car, stopping for a slider in Cushendall. 2 hour journeys that take a lifetime at that age, wishing I was back at home playing football. As the years passed, my friends and I avoided it all together, choosing instead to head straight up Frosses Road to the twinkling lights, cheap booze and caravan living of Portrush, and Kellys nightclub. We did go to the beach occasionally, but that was generally to get pissed, most (un)memorably on my last day of school, when an afternoon spent drinking at our barbeque resulted in me passing out for the entire night in Kellys’ toilet. Thankfully I came to just as the last people were getting ejected and they were turning the lights out. Kind of sums the place up that I was left to sleep in a toilet cubicle for 5 hours.

On my return from my brief globe-trotting adventures, I appreciated proximity to beach and stunning scenery that much more, I think in part inspired by the number of Wellingtonians I knew who had never even been to the South Island of New Zealand. (I didn’t make it either but that’s another story.) Most weekends would see my then-girlfriend and me driving up to the beach, getting lost in the forest, accidentally going for a drink in “quaint” pubs that turned out to be, erm, “Republican friendly” (once on the day that Rangers had beaten Celtic in an Old Firm game - my girlfriend asked what the score was and was asked if she wanted to be thrown in the sea; I just sat quietly, paranoid they could read “hun” across my forehead). It were luvverly. And probably the reason I survived a year of living at home without going stir crazy. Well, that and the aforementioned young lady, of course.

Guat the hell?

Just been chatting to my friend Minta who is currently living in Guatemala.

Thanks to technology, I was able to see her! Sometimes my little brain gets a bit over-whelmed by the advancement of technology. She looked like she was sat in Streatham.

I've been spending my evening tarting up my birthday photos to stick online, so anyone who was there can relive the glorious day in the Falcon, and those who weren't can.... well, probably be bloody thankful they weren't, such is the shoddy quality of the shots (and the states of the people in them).

And I promise promise promise to finish saying thank you to everyone over the next wee while. It'll be worth the wait, honest.

Londoners

Sat on the tube this morning. Quite busy. Bloke stood in front of me farted the whole way to Victoria.

Farted.

In my face.

Of all the most disgusting, inconsiderate things to do, it takes the (air) biscuit.

Unfortunately I couldn't have a go at him as they were of the "SBD" variety. Not the best way to start my morning.

My birthday

Love is all around

Our wee country

Ain’t so wee anymore!!! Lawrie Sanchez, the greatest half-Ecuadorian Belfast boy to ever grace Windsor Park. Even Billy Bingham must be impressed.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/football/internationals/6061782.stm

On the escalator out of Brixton tube last night

I saw a guy that looked for all the world like an older, drug-addled Barry Lawrence. Not the star of the cult road movie "Vanishing Point" - the one from my Psychology class. It was weird.

Went out for a drink with a pretty Polish girl last night

We drank Sambucca. Had a lovely time til half one this morning. No snogging though. I’m crap at this stuff.

Some advice from your Uncle Tony

Don’t decide to go shopping for a new pair of trousers when your zip has gone a bit wonky. Despite your best efforts to be careful, said zip will break as you put your suit back on in the changing room for the last time, and you will be forced to get the tube home with your shirt untucked like you’ve just left school. And then you’ll have to turn up to work the next day with your fly held together with safety pins, because you had decided to go and buy new normal clothes rather than the spare suit you’ve needed for 6 months.

Like a gazelle....

a wee link to my storming finish in the 10K - for all you ladies out there....

So that you can spot me, I finish bang in the middle of the course about a second behind the fat ginger twat who decided to steal all my thunder by pelting past me in the last 20 metres.

I think the time on the counter is exactly 3.09.00 when I cross....

Click here


Alternatively, you can try and spot Craig here (approx. 3.23.52, to the left as you look at it), and Euan here (1.24.19 - dodgy shades on)

Dear all....

I've now linked to each sponsor's post down the left hand side of the screen (very professionally done I'm sure you'll agree....!).

Discovered that, not only have I not written a thank you for over a month, I've also thanked less than half of my sponsors! So perhaps by 2007 I might have managed it. Seriously though, the first two weeks of my 30th year (wah!) will be consumed with gushing tributes.

So, Jeff, Chris, Penny, Cheryl, Andrea, Suzanne, Mum, Jude, Lindsey, Katja, Lorna, Susi, "The Germans" (a.k.a Alex and Markus), Lisa, Chris, Im, Lee (cheers for the link btw), Cathy and Sandra (phew!) - keep an eye out.

The rest of you should feel bloody ashamed of yourselves.

I hate being indecisive... at least I think I do

Oh, what to do... 28 practice attempts and I'm still shite at it. Normally I would be in Glasgow / on my way up with the lahndahn posse at this point of the year, so I wouldn't have to worry, but now almost all the f*ckers have moved down here so there's no point.

So, answers on a postcard please.... what does a skint Irishman do for his birthday?

Suggestions from any potential attendees most gratefully accepted - remember, this is your Friday/Saturday night you have the potential to shape... If, of course, you can be arsed coming out for a bevvy.

Oh, and erm, it's this Friday, so not much time. Never one to leave things til the last minute....

Is it just me?

Or is it not supposed to be the middle of october?

Where can you see lions?

Only in Kenya!

Which is where my mum is going to be on the 7th of July! Yes, after much angst and wondering and assuming she hadn't got a place on the trip, my dear old maw will be jetting off to Nairobi next summer for a 10 day adventure trekking through the bush.

Go on that woman! So happy for her - think she's brickin it a wee bit though (previous furthest flung destination being Lanzarote).

She needs to raise £3K in total, of which £2,100 needs to be in by the end of May - so I'm afraid I'm gonna have to ask you to stick your hands in your pockets again. No rush though - will give you time to recover from the 10k first!

Here's a link to a helpful documentary on where my mum will be going:

http://www.weebls-stuff.com/toons/kenya/

PS, be careful if at work, it has sound

i found this on the internet

i think it is funny.

Why did I move to London again?

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/4800710.stm

Teenager on bus struck by brick

A 16-year-old girl has been treated in hospital after she was hit on the head by a brick which was thrown through a bus window.

The incident happened as the bus went through Orkney Drive in Ballymena's Ballykeel Two estate.

It is understood the teenager was not seriously injured in the incident, which happened at about 1630 BST.

A police spokesperson said that their inquiries "are currently ongoing".

Photos of Run London (and the aftermath)

Perfect weather, loads of friends dragging their hungover arses out of bed to support me, no work the next day, a great gig by my mate Kev's band the Stellars, and rounded off with a few beers in the Dogstar and Lizzi setting the benchmark of friendship by cleaning the stagnant bucket of water out from under my sink for me.

Perfick

Thanks to (in no particular order): Murray, Lucy, Pino, Stella, Alex, Markus, Sarah, Lizzi, Imogen and Lucy's Kev (and pal) for coming out to support Craig and me, and of course Euan and Laura for staying around to cheer us on. And to Sarah and Lizzi for lasting the pace to the bitter end of a 12 hour celebration. I had a fantastic day.

I've stuck a few photos on here to whet the old appetite - you can see the rest (or at least the edited highlights) by following this handy link to Flickr....




1) Euan making it all look too easy in race two
2) a secretly terrified duo prior to race four
3) your humble author proving that chicken legs should be no handicap when it comes to looking good
4) who's number one? Dunno, but I'm number 6820
5) comedy fag with Sarah looking disapproving (only noticed tonight but my pacemaker for most of the race was sweaty grey t-shirt man looking amused in the background!)
6) the 3 amigos reflect on a job well done.

I hate the 21st century

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Legend

Broadbanded up again

woohoo!!

will get onto writing up the rest of the many tributes I need to do. Thanks for all your support for the run guys - I hope I did you proud. Stay tuned for photos etc. Suffice to say I had a lovely and ultimately drunken day.

For those who are interested, I crossed the line in 51 minutes and 11 seconds (apparently they rounded me up from the text message on Sunday!) and finished 3,383rd for Team South, out of a total of 10,906 - overall I came in a respectable 6,820th out of 21,973 overall.

Tat's oot

Fer the lads.

And on the piss.

Check me

RUN LONDON: YOUR OFFICIAL TIME IS: 00:51:12. CONGRATULATIONS ON A GREAT RUN. CHECK WWW.RUNLONDON.COM SOON FOR THE RACE RESULT AND YOUR VIDEO FINISH.

and now.....

......the end is near my friends, my dear readers, my loyal fans.

In 14.25 hours time, I shall be lined up in a gaggle of excited and fitter-than-me people, jostling for position on the starting line, quite possibly with a small trickle of effluence working its way through the mesh pant things inside my shorts.

How has this day come so quickly? Seems like no time at all that I got Craig's email asking for sponsorship and decided "I could do that". And blow me if that's not what's happening.

I'm continuing to be overwhelmed by the support people are giving me, even this close to the run. Another few donations, from Penny and Chris Heggie, has taken me to within £9.99 of the magical £500 that will see my employer having to stump up the same amount for Fairbridge. Thank you guys, and thank you to everyone.

I've spent the day fielding texts of good luck and phone calls trying to arrange our rendezvous tomorrow. My sister is even planning on coming the whole way from Gloucestershire with sprogs in tow to watch me! No pressure then.

I think she summed up how crazy the whole thing is, by comparing what I'm doing with some other friend of hers who has been accepted onto a "round the world" rowing team! Come on guys, bit of perspective. I know I am perceived as a chain-smoking, ready meal eating, alcoholic bastard, but is me doing this run really equivalent to rowing a third of the way round the world?! Jesus, what impression have I been giving people? Any wonder I'm single. It's worth remembering there are people who have done absolutely no training for this run who will turn up tomorrow and run 10 minutes faster than me, with no fuss whatsoever.

That's not to say I'm not grateful for everyone's encouragement - it's something that will stay with me for a long long time to come. I have a lot of wonderful friends and that is the main thing that has hit home in the last few months.

So thanks - I'll try and do you proud. Now get out of here before I get something in my eye....

Sober musings

Spent a lovely day in the sun pottering about, buying what I thought were trendy new shorts (actually very baggy new shorts - I'm going to look like I'm wearing a skirt), getting an aerodynamic haircut, and then strolling back to meet people in the pub.

Absolutely beautiful day, I just spent the whole walk looking around and absorbing what was going on around me. Amateur footballers playing on the common like the Parklife video, three mates laughing and staring at the A-Z as they tried to find out what direction they were going in their car, couples out walking their dogs - it was just felt good to be out and about. I walked past a few pubs and couldn't think of anywhere I less like to be on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure I'll be straight back into that next weekend, but for today, I was feeling good.

Then I started to think. How much of my life has been wasted in a hungover state? Doesn't bear thinking about.

Load those carbs baby

So this is what it's like

When you aren't hungover on a saturday morning

Star of the next Aphex twin video?

Aren't mobile phones wonderful?

Thanks

Thanks to Andrea, Cheryl, Fiona and Tanya for their promise of sponsorship. What is it about my work colleagues that they don't trust the internet for carrying out banking transactions?!

Can't believe how feckin minging it is outside - our atrium is so dark it looks like we're working in a cave. And I haven't been for lunch yet - bah....

Mr Hyperactive "oh my God, the weather is just so exciting I really think I might soil myself" BBC weatherman last night assured me that the sun will return for tomorrow and Sunday, with race friendly temperatures of 16-17 degrees. Can't see it at the mo, but then I can't see the other side of the street either.

A massive unkempt bush

That's what's outside my new flat. Completely obscures the front window of the flat underneath.

Had my last training run last night; had to cut it short at about 40 mins/7km as my calves were starting to tighten up again. Hopefully they'll be alright for the race.

Am quite sad that the training is over now... I've really enjoyed the whole build up to the race and everyone has been so supportive - I don't really want it to end! I'm sure I'll be involved in other things in the future (I see this as the start of "doing rather than saying", as Helen S pointed out - who would of thought I'd ever actually get off my arse and follow an idea through?) but this was the first time I tried something and as such it'll hold a special place in my heart.

A million thanks to everyone for your support (and sponsorship!) - hope to see a fair few of you there on Sunday. Murray - I'll pass on the pint half way round but if you could bring a couple of Red Stripe for the finish line it'd be much appreciated.

23541

remember that number. It shall be but a blur as it whizzes past anyone coming to watch on Sunday.

Probably because I'm getting chased by a beefy bloke with a glint in his eye. I think it's safe to say I won't be pulling any ladies in my official race t-shirt.

"Snug" is the word that springs to mind.

Things to do after the race

Learn to cook
Learn to be a photographer
Get a girlfriend
Stop drinking for a month
Stop smoking
Get a new job
Buy a new wardrobe (the contents, not the actual piece of furniture)


Things to do immediately after the race:

Drink beer
Smoke tabs
Act like a fanny

Sarah's just texted me...

....to ask what time she should arrive to watch me on Sunday. My stomach has started back-flipping. I think this is what's known as "pre-race nerves".

Come on! Get ready, get on your feet...

Watched ‘Ant and Dec – a celebrity marriage’ last night. Notable for two things:-
Jenny Powell is looking feckin old these days. Which by default makes me old because I remember when she was young, cute and perky on Number 73.

That girl I met once who is now a newspaper editor was on the show as one of the ‘talking heads’. Bizarrely I recognised her before her name appeared on screen. Funny how these things stick with you, innit?

Wonder will never cease… I actually did something run related with Craig, as you can see from the photo below. Ok, it wasn’t training or anything, but it still counts. We picked up our t-shirts and digital chip thingys last night from Nike Town. So it’s official – I have a number and everything! The t-shirt looks a bit gay to be honest, but it seems like it will fit me (for some reason I went for a "medium" when I signed up….)

Went for a few beers afterwards with Craig and Lizzi – so much for the non-drinking in the week before the race. We went to a non-smoking pub, which initially made me a bit twitchy, but was actually fine. I didn’t feel tempted to have a fag at all, I suppose because no one else was - the whole peer pressure thing. In fact, when someone did light up without realising it was non-smoking, the smell was really objectionable. Kind of like when my relatives come round to my mum’s house and puff away in the front room without asking….

It's on

Craig (the one in the farmer's shirt) gets his kit

Reality Bites

I'm off to pick up my t-shirt and digital chip after work from the Nike shop. Reality is setting in and my stomach is starting to churn a little bit at the thought that I am going to actually be running a 10k in public in less than 4 days time... I plan to get over my apprehension by buying myself a pair of running shorts as well, ones that cover my knees and make me look cool. Maybe a shiny blue pair - that would be nice. Unfortunately I'm not sure I'm going to get the potato suit sorted in time, much to my disappointment. I'm sure Nike have some kind of corporate rules around being wacky whilst advertising their product anyway.

I was supposed to be going to Nike Town with my "training partner" (remember him?), Craig, but yet again he was unable to make it. We haven't made it out for a single run together either. All those wistful daydreams of official training runs, chatting to athletic ladies, now seem lost in the warm hazy days of July when we signed up. I'm even starting to wonder if he'll turn up on Sunday.

Afterwards I'm meeting up with Vodka Betty and she's going to cook me dinner - I have requested lots of rice as Euan tells me I should be "carb-loading" from now until the big day. Normally Lizzi and I would stop off for a wee bevvy en route back to hers, but I am sworn off the drink until about 2pm on Sunday. She does stress that Guinness is good for you though.

And I got some more sponsorship! Andrea and Lorraine from work - thank you very much! Lorraine is giving me cash as she doesn't trust t'internet, on the proviso that I run downstairs to get it from her. Quite why I would when there's a perfectly good lift is beyond me.

Up to £455 - that top ten isn't far away now. Do you think it's enough to make up for all the bad things I've done in my life?

Life after running

Am thinking of teaching myself to cook at long last to fill the void left by the race being over.

Gonna rename the blog "See that Tattie Burn"

The Final Countdown...

I have broken my target sponsorship, thanks to my overly generous mother giving me 60 pounds! Over £400 raised!

This despite the fact that loads of people I previously would have classed as close friends have not sponsored me. I have decided that after I finally finish thanking everyone individually for donating money, I am going to turn to those who didn’t. Where sponsors get a glowing ego-boosting tribute, non-sponsors can expect the rough side of my tongue. And not in a good way.
My mate Euan and his lovely girlfriend Laura have moved to London! Woot! He’s part of team South on Sunday too. As is Olly from work, who has sponsored me a tenner, rising to 20 quid if I do it in under an hour. So that’s 20 quid then.

Jude has sponsored me the tenner I owed her rather than ask for it back, and my former boss Jenny has promised me a tenner on completion as well. My friend Suzanne has chipped in a further tenner, taking me to £410.01 in total. What with a couple of uncles etc still to contribute, I think I’m well on my way to the £500 mark, meaning my employers will have to double their contribution. If anyone needs any extra motivation, another £95 will get me onto the Run London leaderboard as one of the top ten sponsors – in all honesty the only leaderboard I have a chance of featuring on.

And to cap it all, the sun is out and I got the number of the cute barmaid down the local on Friday night.

It'll be weird once the race is over, but I have plenty of other ideas to keep life interesting.

Keep you posted

I kicked my speaker

Ouch

Nice to see that London Lite has it's priorities straight.

Apparently a drunk hoff equals 2 kids getting shot

One week to go...

Feeling the burn.

Paper cuts

As a psychology graduate, I naturally have a healthy disregard for horoscopes. However, I do still read them, mainly to see if there’s an implication I might pull in the near future. According to this morning’s Metro, whilst I am going to be on fire tomorrow at Cargo for Im’s birthday party, today I should "stick to doing the filing".

Who am I to argue with a higher celestial being?

The nights are drawing in.....

There’s only one thing more frustrating than getting locked in the park after a run.

Getting locked in the park when you can see your flat on the other side of the gate. And you live on the opposite side to the only available exit.

The Guns of Brixton

Raced home from work last night to squeeze my run in before dark. Got the tube home, then jumped on the bus outside Woolies to save me having to walk, and got stuck at the traffic lights for ages as loads of sirens wailed past. "What a gwan?" I aksed myself (cos I is from Sarf Lahdan, innit?). As we edged across the junction of Acre Lane and Coldharbour Lane, the number of ambulances and paddy wagons suggested the obvious. What does it mean when you are actually hoping there has been a horrific road accident?

Brixton is such that there were literally about a hundred people craning their necks at the junction trying to get a better view of the action. We’re so desensitised now that it’s just another curiosity. I was worried my flatmate, just arrived from Glasgow, would be freaked out by the incident, but even he was just pissed off he had to walk from Battersea because the whole town centre was cordoned off. It’s easy to put it down to turf wars and the like, but I wonder just how cosy people will be in their beds should a white middle class city boy be caught in the crossfire next time. I’m thinking Daily Mail front page.

Still, at least it made the news (at least locally) this time – the only thing I heard about the double shooting outside the Fridge on Sunday was through my friends. For those of you who don’t live here or didn’t read the "news in brief" in the Metro this morning, the incident in question was the shooting of two 17 year old boys in a McDonalds queue as they waited to get their burgers. At half 5 in the afternoon.

Jirting

There were three things that happened to me in the last few days, which I would not have imagined just a few short months ago:

1) Last night I was a bit late to meet everyone before Im’s birthday. As I neared the bus stop the 37 (notoriously unreliable bus) was just pulling away. Ordinarily, this would be an excuse for a swear word and a fag, but on this occasion I decided to run after it…. Must admit I wondered to myself what the hell I was doing, but I kept going. A merciful hold up in traffic later, and I managed to catch the bus up by the next stop! Check me out, I’m like Superman or something.

2) I was running round the park on Tuesday night and looked over my shoulder heading up the hill, noticing a bloke in a yellow t-shirt behind me. "Here we go, another one over-taking me", I thought. He still hadn’t gone past when I checked the second time, or the third. Then it dawned on me. I was someone else’s pacemaker! Someone else actually thought I was running at sufficient speed to gauge his own run against me! Woohoo! I am a runner!

3) I had my first experience of "jirting". I’m not sure if this is a word, but I have derived it from the word "smirting". Smirting is the pastime that takes place outside pubs with smoking bans, first experienced by me in Sweden over the summer, but now prevalent throughout Scotland as well. It is a combination of smoking and flirting whilst you are trapped in the company of someone you ordinarily would need to find an excuse to talk to.

My jirting moment(s) took place with a young lady with dark hair and a very attractive tight top, who was running the opposite way to me round the park. Each time we passed there were smiles and raised eyebrows between us. I must mention, however, that the actual moment of jirt is unfortunately brief, as stopping for a chat is not really an option. However, it does encourage you to do an extra lap of the park just in case you see her again. So in a way having the horn is good for your health.

For the record, she disappeared after lap 3.

Inner ear infection?

I think the wonky floors in my flat are beginning to mess with my head. Am sat at my desk at work and feel like I’m facing down a slope… Very weird. Mind you, this building was obviously built by the same guys as my flat, so it may be real.

Centurion

This is my 100th post on the blog... I was going to try and say something momentous, but words fail me. Thank you all for your support so far, and hope you can all make it on Sunday week to watch me hobble past.

I've been wondering whether to continue posting after the event - I'd like to but unsure of content. There were machinations in the pub last night as to the next 'project' but I am sworn to secrecy. Suffice to say it would enable continued blogging for the next year or so.

In the meantime, the lack of broadband in the flat (never, ever use UK Online as an ISP. I'm not sure whether it's incompetence or the fact they're a bunch of cowboys that makes them so shit, but either way they suck) means I probably won't be able to personally thank everyone who has donated before the big day. I'll give you all your props in the fullness of time though, so keep reading!

Cheers

T.

Training update

My knees hurt. Lots. I think it’s because my legs are so spindly that they can’t support my body weight, despite the fact I only weigh 11 stone.
Was at another office in Chatham for the day yesterday. Felt like I was retracing the steps of a Stuart king as I travelled back to Londinium via Rochester (and Argos Extra) in my Chevrolet. Which sounds like a good car but as Colin pointed out, it’s just a Daewoo with a different badge. In my crumpled suit and sensible hatch back, I looked every inch the travelling salesman. My dad would be proud.
By the time I got home and went to the supermarket (taking advantage of the jalopy to visit Tesco and stock up on athlete’s food such as steak pies and sausages – spent £67! When the apocalypse comes at least I’ll be well fed), I had just enough time to rush out to meet the guys (and ladies) for a drink to celebrate Im’s birthday. 30 years old. Seems like only yesterday we were getting drunk in the Garage for my 21st….
Anyway, crux of the matter, no training yesterday, although did do 8.5 kms on Tuesday and am out again tonight if not trapped in work. One of the disadvantages of being qualified for business cards (woohoo!) is that I now get in after a day off to 20 new emails. It’s just over a week until the race – am starting to wish I’d done more. A bit like my uni finals. And my dissertation. And my A-Levels.

Mo money

Thanks to Lindsey for another whopping 15 quid! Time is drawing short now my friends, with a mere week and a half to go until the big day... I am currently on hold to UK Online trying to transfer my feckin broadband, so I can get all your tributes written before the bloody race!

Who needs pickfords

Thanks guys, you are legends. I don't deserve you

New flat

Same old priorities

Getting old

I remember not so long ago I was working in a contact centre for Lloyds TSB in Glasgow. Every time we had a dress down day, there I was in my Bench combats with my trendy t-shirt and trainers, every inch the wannabe cutting edge urban clubber I believed I was. I remember looking at the late-twentysomethings with a mixture of disdain and pity as they rocked up in their sensible atire.

It's dress down day today at work. As I sit here in my navy jeans and plain hooded top, I can't help but weep silently for my lost youth.

Excuses

sure enough, two weeks to go and Craig has started to bottle it. His latest blog entry implies a potential broken toe...

I have a potentially dislocated knee, but you don't hear me whinging, do you?

I'm not homeless any more!

Woohoo! All references are back and credit checking has gone through unscathed!! I have a new flat! And it's huge and right next to the park - bet you're jealous. Not that I've, you know, seen it yet or anything, but I'm sure it's great!

Am off to pick up my bank draft for £1200 and then go to the pub for a celebratory pint or two.... Now what about that sentence makes me feel slightly uneasy?

I should check before being rude

I stand corrected! Five shiny new sponsors... Thank you Katja, Lorna, Susi, Lisa and "The Germans". I don't know if this last one is my friends Pino and Stella, or the entire German nation. I hope it's the former, as I would have expected a little more from a nation of 80 million people, despite their well-publicised economic problems.

Thank you everyone, you have taken me over the £300 mark now, and I will of course be writing wonderful things about you all (maybe I'll generalise in the case of Germany, I'd be here all day otherwise).

Tx

Run Update. Or "Rundate"

Did 8K last night, from Kev and Craig’s (and Scott’s) to the park, once around it and back again. Am getting worried about my left knee… It’s been getting sore each time I’ve been out recently and I could feel it clicking as I got to the end last night. It’s probably cos I’m wearing the wrong shoes – not for me the "go into a specialist store and buy appropriate footwear". I just went to Lillywhites and bought a pair that looked pretty….

I also decided to step up my fundraising activities by texting everyone in my phone book that I hadn’t already emailed. 30 texts sent, 4 replies. Thanks guys, nice to know everyone’s behind me. Did have a bit of an issue where I texted a girl who I met back in January – wasn’t sure it was her number as I’d cleverly put a question park next to her name, but thought "why not? It’s for charity". After several confused texts back and forth, it transpires it wasn’t her at all, it was her boss. Oops. How I got that number I have no idea.

LLTC

Yup, it's official, ladies love Tattie Chomper.

Got a text from a lady today to say she loves my blog... unfortunately she told me on the condition I didn't mention her name. That now makes 3 self confessed "blog groupies"! All women as well!

Grrr....