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.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
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.
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."
"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."
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
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.
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.
Monday, November 27, 2006
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".
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".
Friday, November 24, 2006
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
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
Thursday, November 23, 2006
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.
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
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!
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!
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
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.....
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"
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.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
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
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
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Friday, November 17, 2006
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.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
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?
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?
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
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!
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!
Monday, November 13, 2006
Friday, November 10, 2006
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!
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!
Monday, November 06, 2006
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 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.
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)
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.
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.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
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.
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.
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.
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.
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