Skyrockets In Flight

Okay so the good news is that the Virgin Media man came 'round very promptly this morning, set everything up, and we're good to go.

The bad news is that, due to a series of events, I once again find myself using the internet in Cathays library.

The reasons for this are twofold:

1) My laptop doesn't like the new network. It can connect to it okay, but it's only a "local" connection. I'm not particularly e-savvy but as far as I can work out, only having a "local" connection is tantamount to having no connection at all, because you can't actually browse the internet. It's like that friend who keeps saying he owes you a birthday present but never actually delivers.

2) I could have used Cliffey's laptop to update the blog; it seems to have no quarrel at all with the network. Indeed, for a while we were all gathered 'round the screen, merrily checking things we have not checked for some time. But then Gemma left and, for some reason, the connection went with her.

You see, our brand new internet router lives in Gem's room. And as it turns out, Gem doesn't like to leave the house without a) turning off all electronic items in her room, and b) locking her door. So, with the others once again left e-stranded, I volunteered to wander over to the library and check Google maps for Pete. And maybe update the blog while I was here.

So. House things. Cliffey made bubble and squeak this morning, which he was very pleased with. He also made a waffle for Soph, except our silly toaster burned it, filling the kitchen with waffley black smoke.

However, he remained chipper, and this attitude proved somewhat at odd with Gemma's outlook this morning. She was, I think it's fair to say, a little hungover, and not best pleased at being awoken by Virgin Media men and, worse, roadworks outside the house. She was especially un-taken with Pete's story of how he saw a rat in Sainsbury's Central once. She likened his florid prose and over-descriptive-ness to that of Catherine Cookson, and I for one hope that nickname proves hard to shake.

I've saved the best bit for last. Just before I left the house to come here, Catherine, Cliffey and I noticed that Sophie and Alex, who had been sitting with us in the living room not ten minutes previously, had mysteriously disappeared. We decided we probably knew what they were up to, and did what any group of dignified, self-respecting young men would do in the situation.

We stood outside Soph's room and sang Afternoon Delight.

In our defense, it was about 1.30 in the afternoon, and they knew they were in a house with three boys who would happily spend a day quoting Anchorman at each other until blue in the face.

They should have seen it coming.

Joel.

P.S. New series of The Inbetweeners starts tonight, and for all our internet troubles, we DO have a working digibox. So we'll all be gathered 'round to watch that tonight, possibly sandwiched between two chunks of Flight of the Conchords.

P.P.S. Pete, Meic, Tom and I played Pretty Fuckin' Gayopoly last night. Tom won again, the bastard. That's three times on the trot. He didn't even have P-Town.