For all the smug English fans who were boasting all week long that victory on Saturday was in the bag
http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/rugby_union/6454287.stm
Wales 27 - 18 England
It was my first rugby international and first time at the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff. What a day! A more detailed report soon.
I’ve just been busy for the last month. Four weeks off work, broken down for you into some bitesize informational morcels:
- Two weeks in Wales and two in London
- 4 days suffering the effects of food poisoning
- Getting myself ejected from Wetherspoons by 6 bouncers
- Too much web design work and not enough time actually enjoying the holiday
- The Missus does incredibly well in her exams and narrowly misses a merit
- New motherboard and power supply and my Mesh desktop PC STILL doesn’t work
- Web design client expects a “Google/eBay/Amazon competitor”… with a budget of £1400!
- Treated myself to Tekken 5 and Hyper Street Fighter on PS2… HADOUKEN!
Back at work tomorrow. Half gutted that the holiday is over (and I didn’t do much with it), and half looking forward to having the routine back.
Better, more coherent sentences explaining the points above coming soon.
PS - Cez, if you’re reading this, come down to London you bastard
Not quite. But still, what have I been up to recently?
I was supposed to visit the in-laws a few weekends back but backed out to go and see Guns N Roses. In a nutshell: great show, but he turned up late again and I didn’t get home until 4. The ginger prick. Shared the nightbus with two journalists from NME, one of whom had so much cleavage on display it was painfully obvious they knew where the afterparty was and were going to use her feminine charms to get in. I think I was right - they got out at Regent St, which is where the afterparty turned out to be. When passing through Canary Wharf I happened to see a pair of bums sitting on the pavement. Turns out the truth was far worse, it was Liam and Marek!
Work has been plodding along - I’m a little anxious to fuck off for my holiday now, to be honest. I have nearly finished all the websites I’ve been working on, so a long holiday is due.
I took the day off on Friday to attend the funeral of one of my best friend’s father back home in Wales.
As I’m sure you’ll agree, the best way to deal with grief, or anything else for that matter, is to drink yourself stupid. And that’s exactly what happened. It seems to be a little-known fact that the Welsh are just as keen on wakes as the Irish are. I’m digressing…
I went out with my friend and a bunch of people I hadn’t seen in about 4 or 5 years, but it was if I hadn’t left. One chap in particular - a training MMA fighter, no less - took it upon himself to get everyone else drunk at his own expense, then jab cocktail umbrellas into his scalp, and then yell a Quagmire-esque “Giggidy-giggidy” at passing barmaids. At one point I had 3 Guinnesses, 2 double-vodka Red Bulls and a tequila in front of me. In retrospect I’m quite grateful I didn’t shit or piss myself.
18 hours later, I’m sitting on a park bench outside the pub where we’d managed a lock-in, but pretty sober. Or so I thought. Turns out I was still drunk. I didn’t get my hangover until Sunday. Though it wasn’t as bad as I’d feared, seeing as I’d had a fat Sunday lunch to soak it all up courtesty of my Mum.
One final note - the Missus has the first of three exams this morning. (The other two being tomorrow and Wednesday.) So, if our flat was a station right now it would probably be called Tension Central. Or maybe West Stressbury. I’m hoping she flies through the exams this year and the next two, and becomes a doctor. Then the station would be called Bank.
Over and out.
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.
I’ve had my parents staying for the weekend, which has been nice. Despite being our guest my mother has insisted on cooking, then criticising the weight I’ve put on in recent years. Joyous.
I was pleased to hear that a good friend of mine (and reader of this blog) has finally plucked up the courage to ask out his crush, and is waiting eagerly for their first date. How very Dawson’s Creek.
My father and I were out shopping on Saturday, passed a generic electrical retailer and were rather pleased with ourselves at Wales’ 8-0 lead over Italy. We weren’t so pleased when we got home to find we’d drawn the match 18-18, at home no less. We were equally unimpressed by today’s cack-handed performance by England against the French. What a load of bollocks this Six Nations tournament has been. However, it must have been great for the bookies.
Speaking of sport, rumour has it that Joe Calzaghe will headline a monster night of boxing in the Millennium Stadium, sharing top billing with Ricky Hatton. Looks like I’ll be in Cardiff on July 8th then… Of course, barring a sudden lottery win or the abolishment of airport taxes, this will certainly put paid to my plans to see Guns N’ Roses in both Dublin on June 9th and Paris on June 20th. Nevermind. Speaking of Guns N’ Roses, Gilby Clarke is playing in London in May. I must get myself a ticket.
On Friday I’m at Guy’s hospital manning a stand promoting the site that I’d made for work, in the company of a Nobel prize winner, no less. I also need to somehow find the time to get the medical image database up and running, which is a tall order considering I know fuck all about databases or web servers, and my go-to guy leaves his job on Friday.
Ooh, and I won a Wrestlemania T shirt. If good luck comes in threes, then I’m due my third soon…
I have been spitting venom all morning because - for the second month running - UCL have screwed up my monthly salary. Resultantly, I hurriedly arranged a bank transfer from my parents to cover my rent (due tomorrow) and various bills that have been piling up. I got through to the HR department a few moments ago and asked them to put the money in pronto. I won’t hold my breath for it.
Wales v Ireland was a depressing affair…
On my way in to work I was stopped by a Frenchman (who couldn’t speak a word of English) requesting directions to Rotherhithe from where he was (near London city Airport). My A-level French finally came in useful for something. That, or I told him something like “The library is open. Grapefruit. Go there under car. Ice cream. Eric Cantona. ”
I watched the first 8 episodes of Family Guy series 4 last night. Easily the best cartoon series ever shown. “Quick! To the Hindenpeter!” You haven’t seen it? Bah, the reference is wasted on you.
I was forced to get the Jubilee line to work this morning. It goes through Canary Wharf. Thankfully, rush hour had been and gone, so there weren’t as many mergers-and-acquisitions types about, guffawing about the “bullish second quarter performance”, and how Piers in the next office “only drives a Jag”. That isn’t to say there weren’t any (there always are at Canary Wharf), but their comparative absence was heartening. Did I ever mention I really don’t like Canary Wharf? Not the buildings themselves, but some of the people who occupy them. They’re such… Oh, I did this already…
I have to give a presentation tomorrow, which I am not looking forward to. It’s all about this database I’m supposed to be implementing. Except I haven’t yet. So I’m hastily throwing together some mock-ups in preparation, then making a powerpoint (and working out just what I’m going to say) this evening.
Guns N’ Roses (my favourite band ever, if you’ve never noticed) are going back on tour this summer. I notice that they’re currently scheduled to be playing in Dublin on June 9th, and at the Download festival in Derby on June 11th. I’m crossing my fingers and hoping that they schedule a London gig in-between, which would also happen to be my birthday. ROCK!
My tickets for the WWE Smackdown taping at Wembley Arena arrived yesterday - 11th row! Woooo! (Tumbleweed rolls by). Speaking of Wembley, just how fucking stupid are Paddy Power (the bookmakers)? They start taking bets on whether or not Wembley Stadium will be finished in time for the FA Cup, and what happens? A steady stream of men in hard-hats in the Wembley area place huge sums of money against it. Oh, and they don’t receive a SINGLE BET on it being completed on time. And they’re paying up! Excellent job, Paddy Power. By the way, I have some magic beans for sale, if you’re interested…
Can’t wait for the weekend. 48 hours free of work and stress. Looking forward to the boxing on Saturday, though I fear the Skelton-Williams match will descend into a shitty hold-and-grab contest. On Sunday my friend Tom is visiting to watch the Wales-Ireland game. Should be a good’un.