Mathew Browne

Went to the Farnborough Air Show with my dad-in-law on Saturday. T’was much fun, and I somehow managed to take 1800 pictures in the process. Ah, the joys of continuous shooting…

The journey there and back was made incredibly entertaining by my dad-in-law’s zero-tolerance for any driving-related tomfoolery by fellow road users. Such actions are met with a rolled down window and a stream of verbal abuse, punctuated by expletives. Road rage rules.

It was sunny when we got there, which was nice. Got to mill around and take photos of the pretty planes, then found a nice spot to watch the air show. With the Red Arrows visible in the distance, the aerial display was about to start. And bang on cue, there was a thunderclap, and then it rained. A lot. We braved about 5 displays before the lightning bolts and torrential rain saw us take shelter in some corporate hospitality tent. (Capacity: 50, but with about 150 surplus commoners like ourselves piling in when the weather got shit.) We were shooed back out into the rain by a very apologetic steward, waited behind a door for a minute, then strolled back in. We ended up watching the rest of the show from there, to avoid the intermittent showers.

Seeing as the weather was so shit for the aerial display, I’ve had to do some hardcore Photoshopping to get the pictures looking decent. Shitty lighting and underexposed shots galore, I’m afraid.

I am pleased to say I have a holiday coming up - 4 weeks of doing nothing. Glorious.

I had a lovely weekend at home in Wales, as mentioned previously. Our journey there was marked my the presence of two know-it-all would-be boxing pundits, one of whom fell asleep with his hand on some other blokes knee.

In an effort to relieve boredom Louise and I initiated a game whereby you name a celebrity A, then the other person has to name a celebrity B such that the first name of B begins with the last letter of the surname of A. for example:
Axl Rose > Edward Woodward > David Hasselhoff > etc…
Of course, the flaw in this game (besides the obvious - it’s shit) is that so many surnames end in Y but so few first names begin with Y. We thought of Yasmin Le Bon, Yasmine Bleeth, Yusuf Islam, Yvette Fielding and Yuri Gagarin. Any other famous people come to mind? (And no cheating by using Wikipedia or - for shame! - scanning through Heat magazine.

Though I had unkind words for Wales a few years ago (there is nothing there for a teenager with no car nor driving licence), now I’m all grown up I like it more and more. Perhaps it’s because I only ever visit, and have forgotten the things that made me want to move away in the first place.

One thing sure has changed - the capacity of my stomach. You see, my Mum is very much like Mrs Doyle from Father Ted, in that she is always (ALWAYS!) cooking. If you’re not eating, you’re either unwell or you don’t like her cooking. I love my Mum’s cooking but she makes so much of it, I feel like that guy from Se7en by the time I’m finished, as I feel incredibly guilty leaving food uneaten - a mentality I’ve probably acquired by my Mother’s doing. I just can’t see good food sent to the compost heap. I can say, without hyperbole, that when I’m at home I eat at least twice what I usually would. Living away has obviously shrunk my stomach (thanks to hideous slop for meals while living in halls, plus the fact that one tends not to overeat when one is paying for it…).

Louise and I had quite a serious discussion about moving to Wales once my contract finishes in two years, and she’s a doctor. We like living in London but the cost of living is crazy for anyone thinking about owning their own place (and I do. A lot.).

It’s gutting to know that, for the rent I pay, I could afford the repayments of a £192K mortgage. Unfortunately, no mortgage providers will go anywhere near that amount on a 22 year old fresh out of uni and a single income, and I’m nowhere near saving up the 10% deposit one would need. The silly property prices rule out any of London’s surrounding counties either, hence upping sticks and heading up the M4 is looking an increasingly attractive option. (Though not SO far up the M4 such that parents would pop in without warning. I still like my independence)

I have four weeks off starting in August and I can’t wait. I like my job but I’m feeling a little bored at the moment and a break would do me good.

Over and out,
Math

PS - I’m digging Marek’s adventure in the Far East right now. More please.

What with work-work and freelance-work book-ending my waking hours for the past few weeks it’s only as it winds down I’m finding myself with some free time to post here. I’ve made myself a tidy little sum, however I have no tangible evidence of that, thanks to a hefty council tax bill, renewing my travel card, and an impulse purchase.

I got a new Pentax ist DL2 digital SLR camera the other day. It is the proverbial dogs bollocks. Brand new art-wank photo galleries coming soon…

My effort to shift some of my paunch has withered into nothing, again. It’s just too hot lately to exercise! Comfortable and bellied beats knackered and toned.

I had a work experience kid start this week. Less said the better. On his second day he got me into trouble by arriving early, then going to find my boss (interrupting a big meeting) and asking if he’d log him in. Which made me look like a total schmuck.

I am going home to Wales for all of 30 hours this weekend. The Joe Calzaghe fight I’d booked to see was put off (but the rest of the card wasn’t). I managed to cancel the tickets but my seats on the coach there and back were non-refundable. So I figured I’d go home anyway, seeing as I’d paid for them…

I was in Tesco this lunchtime and observed the 2 minute silence there. Not the most tasteful location but there you go. I could have gone to Russell Square or Tavistock Square (as both are about 5 minutes from my office) but I’m knackered and look a right state, so didn’t want to be an unwitting extra for a live Sky News/BBC/ITN/CNN broadcast…

Actual quote overheard:

Person A: Why kill innocent people? They should bring back the death penalty.
Person B: For who?
Person A: The bombers
Person B: The bombers died
Person A: How?
Person B: They were suicide bombers [long pause] that means they blew themselves up too…
Person A: Ohhhhhh riiiiiight.

For those of you who watch Big Brother, there is an unintentionally hilarious photo of Nikki (a few moments prior to entering the house) doing the rounds at the moment.