A Day In The Life

I started today wrapped in a duvet, and was reluctant to relinquish this favourable position. So, while Sarah had to drag herself to a 9am media lesson, I spent my morning on a comfortable sofa, still wearing my bed, and watching Shaun the Sheep on catch up with JR. There was one particularly sweet episode where he meets a lady sheep and everyone's a dick to them and then she gets taken away but then she doesn't leave because the dick sheep from earlier did a nice thing. It was very emotional and to tell the truth I was a bit misty-eyed at the end.

Which may lend some credence to Soph's theory that I've gone all soft and gay recently. Mind you, all I did to provoke this hypothesis was make a pair of foil-wrapped bagels for Sarah and me, and frankly if a man likes the odd bagel now and then and finds a woman of a similar disposition, why shouldn't they eat bagels together? Besides, Soph was supposed to be in work so her thoughts don't count, food poisoning or no food poisoning.

Sarah didn't eat her bagel anyway, 'cause by the time I met her outside Coleg she'd had a baguette, which I'm told is like a bagel but long instead of circular. But yeah, the plan for the afternoon was to head to Cardiff Bay, where Sarah would be taking some black and white photos as part of her photography course. While we waited for the teacher lady to arrive, we headed into the Millennium Centre, and was there an event going on in there. Kids from three different primary schools singing - and quite well, I might add - about how proud they are to be Welsh, to a big band/funk backing track. There was even a rap section, and I don't *think* the guy who manned it was from GLC, but he might as well have been. Anywho, the song was called something like 'Sing Out Loud', so try to find it if you can.

We eventually got to the photo-takin', and Sarah had been working so hard that I decided it was time for her to buy me a milkshake, so we went into Cadawalder's for a quick break. Unfortunately, Sarah had the SHEER GALL to take a photo in the shop without asking permission, and she was roundly chewed out by the rather curt lady on the till.

After this encounter we headed to a different café place in the bay - I forget the name - and I asked the lady there if they did milkshakes.

"We," she replied in a Russian-ish accent, "do frappés."

So I bought a Strawberries & Cream frappé with Sarah's money and we went back to wandering the bay. The rest of the two hours passed more or less without incident and, in the end, Sarah went back to Penarth for a dental appointment while I headed to the Atrium for my hour and a half of full-time education. I won't bore you with the details of my studio operating lecture - the highlight was the bit about using "positive bullshit" to get musicians in a studio to perform better - but I will tell you that the studio we were in is very nice and overlooks Adam Street, two floors below. You can see trains going past, and cars on their way to the bay via that mainish road that comes off near the Atrium.

All of which brought me back here, writing my blog on Cliffey's laptop because I still haven't worked out why mine won't work. Tonight we're going to The George for Tim's official send-off (he's actually not leaving 'til Sunday - I daresay he has some packing to do before then), and on returning from that I'll probably just go to bed.

What a life I lead.

Joel.

Play The Knob Song

Another day, another trip to CAI. Once again we were there to watch Josh Price in glorious guitar-playin' action, and once again we were not disappointed.

Well, I was a little disappointed that he hadn't written The Knob Song yet, but he made the mistake of introducing one of the songs he had written as "a new one I haven't titled yet".

Needless to say, that's now The Knob Song instead.

Earlier today I went to university on a bus. I will start taking my bike eventually, but the front wheel keeps slipping 'round at the moment and I'm too lazy to go out to the shed and tighten it. Plus it was raining this morning. Anyway, I went to university and managed to organise myself into a band. We have to put on a themed gig this year and we've already pretty much decided on our theme but it's top secret for now so you'll just have to wait.

Unless of course I've already told you.

Joel.

The Goats From Gemma Meadows (Part 3)

Part 2 is here.

Cliffey arrived back at Gemma Meadows and sulked. He sulked hard and he sulked deep. He had lost his two best friends in all the world so he sulked. His stomach was aching from all the marshmallow so he sulked.

The dandelions here weren't all that dandy.

So he sulked.

He had been sulking for precisely two hours and thirteen minutes when Goldberg, the Jewish man who looked after the goats, came by for feeding time.

"I'm not hungry," said Cliffey, sulkily.

"Why not?" asked Goldberg. He was concerned; when feeding time came around, Cliffey was always first in line for the best grub.

"Too full."

"Well, I'm sure Sarah and Pete will be only too happy to-" Goldberg looked around. "Where are your friends?"

Cliffey said nothing. Goldberg looked at him sternly.

"You didn't eat them, did you?"

* * *

Pete was getting worried. He and Sarah had been trudging along this increasingly barren path for over two hours now, and Joel Fields was nowhere to be seen. Wasn't it supposed to be just over the troll bridge?

Sarah was getting tired. Her tummyache had subsided some time ago, and she was growing a little hungry too. She salivated at the thought of the lush green grass that awaited them in Joel Fields. Surely it couldn't be much farther now?

Besides being tired and hungry, Sarah was also a little panicky. She had spent the whole journey hoping that the troll from the bridge wasn't still after them, and the only reason she hadn't demanded a break from walking yet was fear, fear that the terrible thing they had confronted earlier might be just behind them. Pete had assured her that he would have given up and gone back to his bridge by now, but she wasn't totally convinced. Besides, that wasn't the only thing bothering her.

"Pete?"
"Yes?"

Sarah hesitated. "How do we know that Joel Fields even exists?"

Pete stopped walking, and this made Sarah nervous.

"It just does, okay?"

And with that, they carried on.

* * *

Cliffey explained to Goldberg that, no, he hadn't eaten Sarah and Pete, but he didn't think they'd be showing their faces around here anytime soon.

Goldberg asked why not.

Cliffey told him, with no small amount of tutting and eye-rolling, that they were going to start a new life in Joel Fields, where the grass was twice as green and the dandelions twice as dandy.

Goldberg just stood there, silent and wide-eyed.

Cliffey asked, had Goldberg ever heard of Joel Fields?

Goldberg said get in the van, I'll explain on the way.

TO BE CONTINUED

In Anticipation of Klezmer

So slowly but surely we're preparing to slot into our respective routines. I've had my first lectures of the year, Gem sorted out her plans this morning, and Cliffey is enrolling tomorrow morning. Having said that, Pete's being somewhat vague about when he starts, and Soph's taking this whole week off work, so we've not all got our noses to the grindstone. Lazy Soph.

Now. I seem to have neglected to mention the gig at CAI the other night. Basically, we had heard previously of a "funk/ska/gypsy/swing" gig at the arts institute on Saturday, but only realised on the day that it was the Klezmer Kollectiv, whom our regular followers will recognise as the band of the moment around here right now.
So we got to CAI around 9 and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
I asked the barmaid when they'd be on, and was told "around half 11,ish".
We waited.
At around 11.45, I asked the woman at front of house. She told me that they'd be on at about half midnight.
We waited some more, and they finally came on and played some music. But who was in attendance? And what were their reactions?
Joel - pleasure at slowly getting to know the songs he was hearing
Sarah - tiredness at having waited so long
Cliffey - ecstasy, particularly at realising he had worn his Tetris t-shirt
Peter - joy at shouting "Hey!" so often
Tim - unusually unhinged and wild and jumpin'
Andy - rather taken with this new discovery
Meic - mild enjoyment, possibly
Tom - utter bewilderment, judging by his expression
Soph wasn't there but she suggested that we were "pretty gay" for going to see this band. She hasn't heard the Kollectiv because she left Milgi's early the first time we saw them and she doesn't spend much time in Cliffey's car.
Gem offered no comment.
Joel.
P.S. JR, Cliffey and I played Risk earlier today but I didn't win so I didn't feel it merited inclusion in the main body of the blog.
P.P.S. JR won.

Summer's Gawn

Well I hope you all enjoyed In The Style Of... week. Which was your favourite? Mine was the Bible one because it wasn't an utter bitch to write.

I go back to university tomorrow, so even though it's late September, my Summer officially ends today (it began back on the last day of April, when I handed in my last pieces of work for the year, or possibly three weeks later, when I was fired from Beanfreaks and thus didn't have to do any work whatsoever any more). And what have I spent the last 4 and a half months or so doing?

Well, there was Green Man...and my birthday, that was pretty awesome. The World Cup was fun even if the final was super-boring and I had to buy Tom a meal at The Harvester due to losing our fantasy football fing. Cliffey has just pointed out that he went to Australia but there's a whole other blog dedicated to that and besides it wasn't really a thing that I did so I don't even know why I mentioned it to be honest. I went to many places with my partner in boning crime Sarah Macleod, including Bristol, Narbeth, and Cardiff...yeah. I saw, among others, Los Campesinos! at the Big Weekend, a thing I did which Cliffey - sat next to me as I type - is very bitter about. I gave blood and was given a shiny bit of plastic with my name on it for my trouble. I watched Toy Story 3...I watched other films too but Toy Story 3 was the best, and it felt more like an event than a film. I took my Grade 8 drumkit exam, and, as I recently discovered, passed it! And, of course, I moved into a house with some people I know.

I have done many things, and bought many albums, but as far as I'm concerned, four and a half months of summer was simply not enough.

Oh well. There aren't too many lectures between now and Christmas.

Joel.

Cliffey visits a value supermarket

Today's reading is taken from the Book of Tesco.

Cliffey took his friends to Tesco that they might do a big shop, for the wares there were low of price and moderately good of quality. Cliffey, Joel, Sarah and Pete were those who went. In the midst of the big shop Cliffey and Pete left to take Andy, known to Cliffey as a fellow disciple of St. John, into the town of Cardiff. During this period, Joel and Sarah were left to wonder the shop alone, steering both Joel's trolley and Cliffey's trolley. While Cliffey was away, Joel and Sarah put a coconut in his trolley, and Cliffey saw that the jest was good, and the coconut, being of modest price, was bought.

In the aisle of toys and other such leisures, Sarah came upon a Mr. Bump plush, and said "I love this Mr. Bump plush, for he is soft and huggable," and with some nudges and suggestion from Pete, Joel came to buy the plush for Sarah. And lo, he was blessed with packets of custard powder for 6 pence.

In the aisle of herbs, spices and marinades, Pete did express his disdain for Joel's choice of marinade. He did say that lemon & herb is ungodly and that a more flavoursome sauce wouldst be more enjoyable, suggesting BBQ chicken. Joel didst retort that he would stick with the lemon and herb, and maybe even use it on a fish dish rather than chicken. And from Pete there came much wailing and gnashing of teeth. 

In the aisle of canned goods, Cliffey did find an inexpensive-looking can of curry sauce. He enquired as to its price and was told by Joel that the price was 8 pence. "I must buy ten!" Cliffey exclaimed, and he did fill his arms. 

In the cake aisle the Devil did appear to Sarah and she were sore tempted by his rich chocolate celebration cakes for under two pounds. But Joel did chide his woman for her temptation and they ended up getting a microwavable chocolate brownie thing instead. It was not the best. 

Joel was enjoying the benefits of a student loan, and his trolley was filled with crisps, and blackcurrant high juice, and two for one bagels, and salmon burgers, and tiger bread, and crumpets, and sausages, and value yoghurt, and biscuits, blank CDs, and Fairy liquid, and apple crumble, and seafood sticks, and peanut butter, and Ricicles, and Tesco's Finest yoghurt, and a Toy Story CD for Cliffey, and tuna, and drinking chocolate, and many bags of pasta, and several other things, and the whole bunch did cost fifty-two pounds and sixty-six pence, but keep in mind that this included a ten pound Mr. Bump plushie so in reality this figure is slightly skewed.

Upon returning home, Cliffey did have a torrid time trying to fit all his purchases in his small cupboard. But, with God's help and some Tetris-like re-arranging, he did accomplish this. "This stock shall surely last me some weeks," he did declare. And Tim, who was about, did enquire as to whether Joel had purchased a marker pen that he might start chalking up the man points. And the answer that came was no, and Tim said "verily, thou art a div."

P.S. The guy from Lostprophets was there.

Goodbye to Sian

I am writing a blog in the style of Doc Seuss,
Because Joshua Price, may his neck find a noose,
Had a clever idea (and it's not the first time)
To get me to make all my ponderings rhyme.
So I'm dirty and smelly and needing a shower,
And at a PC at some ungodly hour,
And writing in what's called, according to Wiki,
"Anapestic Tetrameter". It's a tad tricky.

So last night I made the long trip to Penarth
With Sarah Macleod, my superior half,
To bid a farewell to her dear friend Sian Lewis.
We got on the bus that would take us from Crwys
To sweet central Cardiff, from whence we could trip
On another bus, bound for that glorious township
Where cliffs and the sea and the rocks and the like,
Were put in a song sung by Tom, Joel and Meic.

We stopped off at Tesco to buy a baguette,
And then headed to Sian's where I got my lips wet
In a glass of white wine, for the sake of occasion,
And my God, the taste! Like a Nazi invasion!
But other than that it was quite the rum do,
We listened to Will playing music from Who,
Sian made us all popcorn, we gobbled it up,
I made some bad jokes and was promptly told "shup".

But thanks to Sian's clock being ten minutes slow,
We missed the last bus back to Cardiff, and so
We got the last train (no-one asked for a fare)
Arrived at 'Diff Central, and taxi'd from there.
Thus endeth our tale, and what now to do?
Sian's going to uni, and others will too,
How many will stay when these students have gone?
My guess is somewhere between many and none.

(Tomorrow - in the style of the Bible!)

Joel.

The Third Party

On the night of Tuesday the twenty-first of September, two-thousand and ten, few of the tenants at Tewkesbury Place would have believed that a in a mere day's time, their walls would be shaking with animalistic frenzy, that their very dreams would be interrupted by a great cacophonous army of the inebriated.

Yet across the gulf of Cardiff, minds that are to our minds as a can of lighter fluid is to a half-pint of IPA, personalities boisterous and wild and unhinged, began to come towards Cathays.

At first the invasion was marginal. A sleepy received visit from the two landlords and a single confused looking guest were about the total of it in the first half-hour.

But then they came. In their droves, they came. I had been dozing in my bed when the first few had arrived, and I was still not fully conscious of my surroundings. But they cared not a whit for my sensitive condition, being loud and grating on my senses.

We thought we had it all under control, until Murphy brought down his damned speakers. The sounds coming through them were distorted but all-conquering. Walls offered no defence against their aural onslaught.

Myself and my friends, Tom and Sarah, hid in my bunker, passing the time playing idle games like Tekken and Fifa '01. Eventually, Tom could take no more, and made a go at escaping, promising that he would make contact when the maelstrom had passed. Now, in the aftermath of it all, I have yet to hear from him.

Sarah and I took one last look at the chaos around us and retreated as best we could into sleep. But the noise! The horrible quasi-music playing through those speakers came at our heads like a barrage from Hell itself.

This morning, the house was quiet. The night had taken its toll, though, and all around us were strewn bottles and glasses and gore. I know not whether I will hear from my friend Tom again, nor whether I shall sleep any better tonight.

Agent Orange

[Scene: a supermarket aisle. We are slap bang in the middle of Cathays Los Angeles. RYAN is a shop assistant, and he is cleaning the aisle witha mop and bucket when suddenly-]

SOUND FX: Loud bang!    

[There is an explosion in the Co-Op Wal-Mart. JASON, another (younger) employee, runs over to Aisle 7 to see what the hell just happened. He finds his co-worker severely charred and dying.]

JASON: Ryan?! 
RYAN [smiling]: Jason...it's...over...
JASON: RYAAAAAAAAN!!

[RYAN dies. JASON peers through his tears and sees Jaffa Cakes scattered everywhere. He picks up his fallen comrade's mop and gazes solemnly at some point in the middle distance.]

* * *

[Scene: a house in Cathays Los Angeles. There are raised voices.]

JOEL: GodDAMMIT I don't believe you guys. The chocolate side is NOT the top of a Jaffa Cake!
SARAH: Quiet, Joel! Gemma's sleeping!
GEMMA: Uuuuh?
JOEL: I don't care! It's damned nonsense!
PETE: Joel. When you eat a chocolate digestive, which way up does it go?
JOEL: Biscuit up, so that the chocolate is nearer my tongue!
PETE: WHAT?! You're insane!
JR: You crazy, man.
JOEL: But OBVIOUSLY the biscuit part goes on top! How else would you read the WRITING?!
PETE: You're insane.

[At this juncture, there is an explosion. One wall of the house is blown to rubble, and as everyone coughs and tries to fan away the dust, a lone figure steps through the debris.]

JASON: Which one of you killed my friend?
JOEL: None of us. We're having a rather heated debate here, so if you don't mind-

[JASON decapitates JR with the mop, just to show how serious and badass he is.]


JOEL: Woah.
JASON: I'm gonna ask you again. Which of you killed Ryan Jackson?
JOEL: Look, none of us killed anyone. We're just a bunch of students, and I'm just an underdog fighting for what he believes in-
JASON: Well I'm just an all-American working man fighting for justice.
JOEL: Well then we're both facing challenges. But is there any reason why we should work together as a team of dogged good guys rising up to face those challenges?

[There is an explosion. Another wall of the house is levelled, and in its place stands a humongous, bright orange robot, with a railgun aimed squarely at those gathered.]


ROBOT: We are The Faction for Chocolate on Top. Prepare to die.
JASON: Whuh-


[There is an explosion, and the robot falls to the ground. Behind it stands Joel, brandishing an American flag.]


JOEL: I  told you guys that the cake goes on top! You're powering an evil dictatorship! 
EVERYONE ELSE: ...
JOEL: Well I for one am not going to take it! We've got to stand up for the little guy, and-


[JASON decapitates JOEL for being a dick. There is an explosion.]


COMING WINTER 2010


(Tomorrow: Cutlery in the style of War of the Worlds author H.G. Wells!)


Joel.

A Fool and His Money

(In the style of Charles Dickens, at JR's behest)

It is in the very heart of Cardiff that our story begins. The city was a-bustle with people, and the wrinkled fingers of Autumn's cruel hand had just begun to close.

Joel Dear was a young, slender man, but his wire-like frame concealed a mighty appetite. Regrettably, his bankroll did not match his hunger, and he frequently found himself unable to satiate it.

He was betrothed to an equally young, equally slender girl named Sarah Macleod, and it was to her that the task of feeding her beloved fell. She spent her Saturdays working in her father's watersports emporium, and most of the money she earned went towards food for the young Master Dear. He was an expensive man to keep, but Miss Macleod's demeanour was always sunny, and she never let a frown onto her face.

On this particular afternoon, the two had finished a light luncheon at Sub City - at Sarah's expense, naturally - and she had returned to her studies, while he was heading home to enjoy an afternoon of leisure. But as he trod the sun-dappled streets back to his hovel, a thought struck him; was he really as penniless as he had convinced himself?

He ran to his bank and enquired as to his balance. The clerk was a gentleman named Mr.
Holeinthewall, and he was almost mechanical in the way he went about his business.

"You have one thousand, four hundred and seventy-one pounds and seventy-two pence," said Holeinthewall presently. Joel almost fell over. He asked the elderly clerk to check again.

"You have one thousand, four hundred and seventy-one pounds and seventy-two pence," came the reply, just as before.

Now Joel Dear may have been a costly lover to keep around, but he had a heart, and a big heart at that.  Whenever Sarah had paid for his food or bus fare he had felt a pang of guilt, and he wanted to thank and reward her for her kindness in these lean times.

The plan was already hatched. Dear happened to know that a troupe of musicians calling themselves the Arcade Fire would be in Cardiff in a few months' time, and Sarah dearly wanted to go. But of course she had been saving every penny of her earnings, lest her darling Joel grow hungry, and had been unable to afford the cost of tickets. So young Dear decided that this would be his first purchase: two tickets to see the Arcade Fire perform.

Dear's afternoon was to be occupied by a man named Cliffe and lady named Sharp. Together, the three of them were heading to an establishment called the Cardiff Arts Institute, where they could recline in the comfort of a large chair and exercise their creativity on the Lego walls.

Mr. Thom Cliffe was a steep man with a craggy face. His friend, Miss Anna Sharp, was a tall young woman, and every word she spoke sliced through the air like a swordsman's flashing blade. They were serious, serious people with serious, serious, serious purposes in life, but for now their only purpose was to spend the afternoon chattering to each other and playing Cluedo. Dear defeated them both, correctly deducing that one Miss Scarlet was the murderer once again, but he seemed throughout the game eager to return home, home to his sweetheart.

The air in Cardiff that evening was beyond balmy, and the sun's rays beat down upon Joel Dear like a policeman's baton. Thom and Anna were making the return journey with him, but all he could think of was repaying the debt he owed his lover, and how wonderful their lives would be now that they were both moneyowners. Sarah Macleod, who never let her sunshine disappear, deserved a pleasant life, free from worry and discomfort. Dear wanted nothing more than to provide.

And upon his return...all that might be said is that she was just as pleased as he had hoped, and as excited as he was about the money.

They thought of all the marvellous things they would buy.

All the glorious foods they would eat.

And all the life they had yet to live.

(Tomorrow - Cutlery in the style of a Michael Bay movie script!)

Joel.

At The Spillers Calendar Photoshoot

It's nice to know that there are that many people who are into music and the buying of music. Stood behind me on the museum steps were two oldish men who were boasting about the bands they'd seen back in the day. One of them had seen Springsteen at Wembley on the Born In The USA tour. He played for four hours.

Speaking of Springsteen, Cliffey got to hold up a cardboard cut-out of him. In the actual picture that's going to be in the calendar. Except he wants everyone to think it was actually Bruce Springsteen, so I didn't just tell you that it was cardboard.

When photos had been taken and cheese said, Cliffey, Sarah and I went to the Arts Institute for a bit of a chill before we headed back. We played a kind of revamped version of Cluedo, with different rooms and weapons. I was Reverend Green, except he wasn't a minister, just a dude. I won, too; it was Miss Scarlet in the spa (there was a spa) with the pistol. Sarah figured this out first, but made the classic error of telling us all that she knew it. Realising that she would win on her next go, I took an educated guess, and - lo and behold - got it right. Because I'm good at Cluedo.

I am still very bad at Fifa '10, although I did manage to score a goal yesterday while playing against JR.

Joel.

The Penarth Odyssey, or, A Too Long Story

Friday night presented us with two options:

1) Go to Josh & Richard's student flat. They were having a (slightly belated) housewarming do and I was curious to see how their digs compared to ours.

2) Go to Penarth. All the ex-Stanwellians were having a university send-off at The Railway, and who doesn't love the P-Town people?

It was a tough call, to the point where I couldn't decide and ended up doing both. So, after a somewhat hurried dinner of peri-peri chicken and potato smilies, Sarah and I headed for the bus stop.

We got to Penarth at about 8.45, having missed the bus we were aiming for. Our first bus decided that the bus station was too clichéd a destination and ended up somewhere near the library, which meant that we had to wait at the bus stop for half an hour while a drunk man told nobody in particular that he'd seen things they could never fucking dream of.

The Railway is a nice pub; even the bouncer who ID'd us was friendly and congratulated me on being from Liverpool. A few of the people present were a little sad at the prospect of losing their friends until Christmas, but the mood in general was fairly buoyant. I had a conversation with Frazer and Ollie about how good Green Man was, and I was shocked - shocked! - to learn that they didn't watch The Flaming Lips, opting instead to laze around in their wet tent. Such behaviour should not be tolerated at festivals.

After a sojourn to Tesco's where Sarah bought me a chocolate muffin (delicious if slightly stale having been on the shelf all day), the two of us went back to the pub to say our goodbyes before heading back to Cardiff. I bumped into my former music technology mentor James Clarke, who regaled me with his tales of music production in LA, and when we eventually left we took Hannah and Fone with us. The plan was to get a bus from Penarth to Cardiff Central, then another from there to my parent's house, which was just around the corner from Josh & Rich's new place.

That was the plan. We managed to get the first bus easily enough, with Sarah spotting the other two a fiver so that they could get day to go tickets. We arrived in Cardiff without event, but I soon realised that I had no idea where the other bus we needed went from. We waited, shivering, on Westgate Street for a good while, until a bald-headed club bouncer took pity on us and informed us that no buses would be coming that way tonight. We headed to another bus stop, but the timetable informed us that we had missed the last bus.

So we walked. Sarah and I were cold, and we were wearing jumpers, so I can only speculate as to how Hannah and Fone felt, dressed as they were for a night out.

Eventually we saw the lights of the YMCA, which meant that we were nearly there. And then, when our long journey seemed at an end...

...I managed to take us the wrong way. I should point out that this was in Roath, the area where I've lived for the last seven years. The error was easily corrected, but I felt like The Biggest Dick. If the incident with Tom on the way to Penarth wasn't enough warning, this should really hammer it home: do NOT allow me to navigate. Anywhere.

At any rate, we somehow found our way to the flat, and it is very nice indeed. More space than ours, and a lot cleaner. Having said that, there are only two people there at the moment, and the mess here is more than made up for by the sense of family unity. N'aaawh.

So yeah, it wasn't a house party by any stretch of the imagination, more a gathering, but it was nice. We had a healthy discussion about our favourite Bond themes (I'm not sure of mine but On Her Majesty's Secret Service is very cool), and there was a whiteboard for guests to doodle on.

The highlight, however, was the Man and WoMan Points charts that Josh made. They're up in my room at the moment and they look like this:

The competition is now on. Points will be awarded based on the whims of me and Pete and anyone else who feels the need to contribute.

Tim is already ahead for winning a game of Pretty Fuckin' Gayopoly last night, and Pete will be getting some points too for going all in on the Lottery space and, Rudyard Kipling-style, losing it all.

I'm already in the minuses for being appalling at Fifa '10.

Joel.

Cliffey's PS3/Fruit Flies!

Well, it was bound to happen eventually, given that using the internet right now means having to borrow someone else's computer, or their iPod, or going to the library, or going home. So I apologise for missing yesterday's update, but if you want a scapegoat to blame then Virgin Media will do nicely. I take pleasure, however, in the knowledge that we've signed up for e-billing, and I won't be able to pay the bills if I can't get on the 'net and read my emails.

So, with my computer still out of action, Cutlery is once again coming to you from Cardiff central library. I'm listening to Consolers of the Lonely by The Raconteurs and I'm raring to make up for lost ground.

Not long after the last update went up, Cliffey managed to fix his PS3, and there was much rejoicing. Somebody trod on it at the first party, you see, and the HDMI cable snapped off while it was still inside the console. Cliffey, of course, was not best pleased, but help was at hand in the form of a man and a website.

When the Virgin man came to install our phone and our TV and our internet that doesn't work properly, Cliffey told him of his plight, and, taking pity, our hero grabbed a pair of pliers and extracted the broken-off bit of cable from the console. Pete mumbled that he could have done the same if someone hadn't stolen his Leatherman at the first party, but Cliffey still had a problem in that he didn't have a cable to replace the broken one. And even if he did, who could say whether or not the PS3 itself had survived the being trodden on incident intact?

All Cliffey could do was leap and see where he landed.  He logged on to eBay, and found an HDMI cable for about £3. It wasn't a huge loss, he reasoned, and if there was the slightest chance that it might revive his PS3 then it would be worth it.

The cable arrived while Cliffey was at work, and when he returned home form his shift, instead of eating or going to bed, the first thing he did was rip open the package, cross his fingers, and try the cable out.

And it worked. Success! No longer would we have to play Fifa '98 on the N64, longing for the almost too realistic face of Wayne Rooney in Fifa '10. No longer would we have to play Robot Wars: Arenas of Destruction on an outdated console. No longer would Cliffey have to swallow his sobs as he passed Soph's room, knowing that she had a working PS3 that hadn't been trodden on.

This whole story is second-hand, by the way. I had very little involvement in the whole episode, so sorry if I got any of the information wrong.

Now for some general house news. Our supply of sticky notes was decimated at the second party, because some delightful people decided to draw dicks on all of them. It's regrettable; we can still write on the greyish bit of cardboard underneath, but it's just not as cheerful.

Having said that, a deficit of post-it notes will almost certainly reduce the number of passive-aggressive notes regarding leftover food, of which there have been one or two of late. We are harbouring one or two fruit flies at the moment, and a few different people (I'm naming nobody) have a few different ideas as to what's bringing them in.

Personally, I think it's the smell coming from Soph's room.

Joel.

P.S. Last night was interesting too but I'll save that for another time. As I missed yesterday's update I'll do one tomorrow to make up for it.

The Second Party, or, Bye Bye DanGuy

DanGuy is not actually going back to Liverpool until Saturday, but he's otherwise occupied until then so we threw him a farewell party last night.

A lot of people were very drunk. I was not among them but I understand that it was a lot of fun, what with all the dancin'. One blonde person got very into it, and would have been awarded Life of the Party if we had awards like that.

There were a number of peg-based shenanigans going on, started, I believe, by that diabolical mastermind JR. He was outside, enjoying the breeze, when he found our clothespegs on the washing line and hatched a plan. For the rest of the night, everyone present was finding pegs pegged to their person. As I say, JR started it, but other people picked up the game, and by my reckoning the winner was Tim Penn, who managed to peg DanGuy's arm without detection.

Other things happened as well but these are best left to your imagination, not least because I've not got long left before it's tomorrow and this post is late. Suffice to say that the kitchen was quite messy this morning. Soph and Alex did the lion's share of the cleanup, and then made jam tarts. They made them wrong but whatever, it's the thought that counts.

Oh, and nobody broke any windows this time.

Joel.

Sharments

A correction. Yesterday's blog was not quick; it was in fact quite long.

Another correction. It's Klezmer Kollectiv, not Kolectiv. Two L's. Sorry.

And now, a bullet point blog!

THINGS THAT HAPPENED TODAY

• The main Thing That Happened Today was that we went to Tesco. This was mostly so that Cliffey could exchange his trousers and do a big food shop, but other people bought things too. Pete bought a Blur compilation and 10 frankfurters. Sarah bought a cheesecake and some juice. Anna Sharp, who came along, exchanged several bags of shrapnel for a crisp new £10 note (and some more shrapnel). And I bought four iced buns and a Flump. It was a good trip. One funny thing was that Cliffey picked up a bottle of high juice and attempted to 'flare' with it. He dropped it. We even bought a brand new bin! It has a lid and everything. I put it on and pretended to be a spaceman. Sarah later did the same but one of the builders outside our house told her she looked more like a toilet.
• On the way back from Tesco we got lost and ended up driving through Pentwyn. This was unfortunate, and resulted in our getting stuck in even more traffic, but it was good in that it meant we got to listen to the Klezmer Kollectiv for another fifteen minutes or so. 
• Before any of this, I met Sarah at Coleg Glan Hafren and she bought us chips on the way home. We ate them with bread and butter. They were very nice. Cliffey had one.
• While Sarah was in college, I ambled over to Chez Payne in order to pick up my drum certificate (if you read yesterday's instalment then you'll know that I passed grade 8 with merit). As it turns out, I got a better score than my teacher, who did the grade 8 exam on the same day! The student becomes the master. On my way there, I listened to Manowar's seminal Kings of Metal album, which is very good apart from a song called Pleasure Slave which is a bit sexist.
• This evening we watched quiz programmes and fell in love with a man named Gerry on The Weakest Link. He didn't get to the final but we all felt that he should have.
• After that Sarah decided to get another pizza from Domino's. We were going to walk but then Cliffey offered us a lift. We parked outside the Co-op and discovered a secret back entrance! We were amazed. While we were waiting in Domino's, the three of us compared the cards in our wallets. I won because I had a shiny Charizard.
• Strictly speaking, this is not a Thing That Happened Today, but I feel that it is worth mentioning anyway. When Cliffey was going to work yesterday, somebody crashed into his car. He was not best pleased because Xander has just come out of the car hospital and now this happens. He got the other guy's insurance details though so that's good.
• Pete just called Cliffey a nigger over a game of Robot Wars: Arenas of Destruction.
• Speaking of Pete, he acquired the internet today. He and Meic ran a cable from the router in Gemma's room to the PC in Pete's room. I am now the only non-connected house member, and that includes Sarah, whose iPod gets the friggin' internet. 
• Sarah would also like me to point out that she beat me at Tekken six times earlier. Six times in a row. 
• Gemma is not going to be working for a while as she has bad hands.

I think that's everything so I'll see you tomorrow. I hope you enjoyed Joel Writes Like An Autistic Day. Normal service resumes tomorrow.

Joel.

Bahrain, hey!

Still no Internet on my laptop. This'll be a quick one because I'm writing it on an iPod.

Yesterday, Cliffey, Pete, Sarah and myself took a trip to Penarth Road to get Pete a wireless card for his computer.

The plan was good enough on paper. Pick Sarah up from college at half past 4, carry on to Novatech, get the part, and return home in time for tea.

But there were complications. Sarah had finished college early, and by the time we got there, she was already on a bus going the other way. Sarah is not blessed with a mobile phone, and not only could we not inform her of the plan, we also couldn't tell her that the house she was heading for was locked and unoccupied.

So back we went, and rescued Sarah from knocking endlessly on an unforgiving front door. Once we were on our way again, we put on the Klezmer Kolectiv CD that we had bought for Cliffey, and it made for good driving music, except perhaps during those long moments stuck in the pre-rush hour traffic.

Eventually, we got to Penarth Road, and the actual wireless card-buying went pretty well. Sarah managed to crash one of the Novatech demo computers, but she covered it up quite well and besides, she bought us all jelly babies so we weren't complainin'.

The real trouble was getting back. The traffic that had been building earlier was now in full swing, and as a result it took us about 20 minutes to conquer City Road. Fortunately, we had the Klezmer Kolectiv to keep us kompany!

Now these songs aren't really the kind everyone can sing along to on a long car journey; there are no lyrics. Still, we were in no mood to be quiet and listen, so we made up our own words. We took it in turns to sing a line about the traffic, the takeaways we were passing, and especially Bahrain. None of us were too sure where Bahrain is, but we soldiered on regardless. Occasionally, Pete would do a spoken word bit about "the old country".

The best part is that, even with the wireless card, Pete still can't get the Internet.

Joel.

P.S. This instalment of Cutlery is dedicated to the radiant Sarah Macleod, who lent me her iPod to write it on, and who is currently sleeping next to me as I type.

P.P.S. I passed my grade 8 drums with merit. Yay to that!

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.

The Goldeneye Tournament, or, Mammoth Periods

The Power Nap. For a lot of people, it's a way of life, the burden of each day's slog lightened by a quick kip here and there.

I have my reservations, however. I had one yesterday afternoon, and the sheer disorientation- nay, terror I experienced on waking up at 7.40pm was NOT refreshing in the least. I felt lost and afraid and I if I ever power nap again I will have to time it a lot more carefully.

Anywho, by the time my trembling had subsided and I'd managed to eat something, the others had sat down in the living room for a spot of Bond on the N64. Pete had just edged past Cliffey when I had my bright idea: as there were 8 people present (that's "The Core Eight", as we are now termed; the five housemates plus Sarah, Alex and JR), why not have a knockout tournament? We could have a bracket and everything.

Cliffey was NOT impressed. He felt that, had he known he was involved in a knockout situation rather than just a friendly game of Goldeneye, he would have applied himself a little more, and would have been able to show Pete what's what. We ignored this, and I drew up a bracket (I do love my tournament brackets):

PETE vs. CLIFFEY    JR vs. ALEX     SOPH vs. JOEL    SARAH vs. GEM   

With Cliffey already out (under protest), the other three match-ups went as follows: JR demolished Alex with something like 9 kills to 1; I beat Soph fairly comfortably, although perhaps not as comfortably as JR may have done; and Sarah, who we decided was actually quite good at Goldeneye but pretending to be rubbish. beat Gem in one of the closer matches that evening.

So the bracket now looked like this:

PETE vs. CLIFFEY      JR vs. ALEX      SOPH vs. JOEL      SARAH vs. GEM
        PETE                vs.      JR                           JOEL         vs.          SARAH

After a quick friendly between Sarah and Cliffey, to make up for his being knocked out while unaware of the circumstances, it was back down to business. For the semifinals, we changed the chosen weapon set from 'Power Weapons' to 'Automatics'. Shit was gettin' serious.

In semifinal #1, Pete got quite annoyed with JR's tactics, which were basically 'run away until you find the best gun and the body armour, then kill your opponent as much as possible'. JR won and Pete, like the man he beat to get to this round, was left NOT BEST PLEASED.

Semifinal #1 looked to be an interesting prospect, with all present (bar Soph and Alex who had gone to bed by this point) wondering whether I would let my girlfriend win or be a man and throw her to the curb.

PETE vs. CLIFFEY      JR vs. ALEX      SOPH vs. JOEL      SARAH vs. GEM
        PETE                vs.      JR                          JOEL         vs.           SARAH
                                JR               vs.              JOEL

I was amazed to have reached the final, but JR's route had been far tougher than mine (and, comedy aside, my victory over my better half was considerably harder-fought than I might have hoped) and I had everything to prove. The chosen arena was the Temple, as it had been for every match so far. The weapon set was Lasers, although that turned out to be slightly misleading because the only "laser" weapon was the Moonraker Laser, and that was what we were both going for.

In truth there was never any competition. The 5-minute match consisted of one brief moment where I was in control, bookended by two mammoth periods of me getting my ass handed to me by a guy with a laser.

So congratulations to JR, who always seemed to know where the good guns and body armour were. He is now officially the house's Goldeneye champion, despite not actually living there.

I reckon I could take him at Tekken, though.

Aftermath: we stuck the tournament bracket on the fridge, complete with a glorious crown doodled over JR's name in the final. Later, Pete scrawled something underneath about JR being a dirty body armour scrub.

See you on Monday, when hopefully, for the first time, Cutlery will be coming to you from THE HOUSE ITSELF.

Joel.

The NME is my Enemy

Spent the whole day in Sturff yesterday. It was like I actually had a job, except I neither did any work nor got paid for it. One of the customers said that it would be Christmas soon, which got me all excited until I realised that that's plainly not true (it's 106 days away).

After work Sarah and I walked over the barrage to Cardiff Bay. It was a very nice walk but by the time we got to the bay we felt we'd done enough walking and got a bus to town, and then another back to the house.

Which brings me to my next point, which is FUCK CARDIFF BUS. What the hell happens to the buses when they drop off the electronic board? Are they stuck in some kind of bus limbo? Is that why we then have to wait 15 minutes for the next one?

Last night we watched Ripping Yarns, which was funny, and ate a rather gooey chocolate cake, which was probably rather unhealthy.

Okay, this one's been a bit short so I'm going to fill it out by copying out the NME's review of the new Underwold record (because, surprise surprise, I'm in the library, where they have such intellectual tomes as the NME handy) and replacing selected words with the word 'penis'.

UNDERWORLD
BARKING COOKING PENIS
In the 90's, everyone loved penis and feared the millennium penis. Hence, it makes odd sense that the penis has been misfiring consistently since 1999's 'Beaucoup Penis'. With 'Barking', they manage to spark into life just twice. 'Bird Penis' and 'Penis In Water' are, in the vein of clasic Underworld, simultaneously danceable and menacingly strange. Elsewhere, though, this penis-heavy eighth penis tends to fail when it experiments: 'Louisiana' is a tediously mournful penis song, and 'Diamond Penis' a baffling Doves-style penis-indie anthem. Elsewhere, there are penis-warping forays into bland house, formulaic drum'n'bass and (shudder) penis-out music. Remember that? No? Penis. Niall O'Penis

5   

Joel.

P.S. I'm probably not supposed to reproduce content from the NME on my little blog here but who gives a penis.

Scriber Takeover, or, Mad Paper Tearin' Skills

This edition of Cutlery is coming from Penarth library, the third library whose free internet access I have taken advantage of since the move. Virgin are installing internet, as well as phone and TV, on Monday, but until then it's a pretty safe bet that I'll be writing this blog near some books.

Yesterday night, all of us (save Gem, who didn't finish work until quite late) went to the Cardiff Arts Institute to see a gig that Josh (Price, not to be confused with Joshua 'JR' Robson) had organised. It was good. Pete had a steak sandwich thing, he let me have a bite and it was very nice.

For the most part we were sat on some very springy sofas next to a Lego wall*, but when Josh came on we decided that the chivalrous thing to do would be to go to the front and heckle him a bit. Admittedly this was mostly me, but nonetheless we ended up with me demanding to introduce him - and I realise too late that I shouldn't have referred to him as "Josh Price" but instead "Scriber" or at the very least "The J-Pizzle" - requests for "The Knob Song", and flowers being thrown onto the stage at the end of his set.

The other acts were very good too, especially The Lay-Lows who managed to work a Rage Against The Machine riff into one of their own, acoustic, songs, but the highlight beyond a doubt was the shadow puppetry, mostly courtesy of JR (not to be confused, etc.) and his mad paper tearin' skills. So those assembled at the CAI last night were treated to shadow Pacman being chased by a shadow ghost, a shadow bat flapping around menacingly, and my shadow hands doing nothing of any artistic merit at all, really.

On returning home we watched a film called Chasing Amy. It was not really about lesbians. Also Foley was there and he played Hit Me Baby One More Time. It was perhaps a little gay.

The J-Dizzle.

*A wall with Lego.

We Did Not Play

In the end, we didn't play Pretty Fuckin' Gayopoly*.

Sad times.

Yesterday I went to Penarth and chilled with Sarah in her shop, which I probably ought to promote, so here:

STURFF

For all your needs!

Washington Buildings

Penarth

I ended up there because Tom (Bonelle, not to be confused with Thom Cliffe) was also going to Penarth and needed a navigator. Which is pretty dumb, I mean who can't find their way to Penarth?

...Well, me, apparently, because my navigation skills took us past the turnoff and in very much the wrong direction. Tom was not best pleased but we managed to turn around before we got to St. Fagans, anyway.

When we did eventually roll up in P-Town - and by then we'd listened to just over half a Stereophonics album - I was let out of the car, Tom put on some Craig David, and off he went to conduct his own business. I went over to Sturff and stayed there 'til the early evening, sitting behind the counter and smiling at customers but never actually helping out with anything much.

All of which means I don't really know what was going on in the house yesterday afternoon. Cliffey and I watched The Damned United before I went out - and Damned good it was - but after that I've no clue.

In fact, I'm coming to a point in this blog where I have to decide whether it's a house blog or a  Joel blog. It's intended to keep everyone up-to-date on the goings-on in the house, yes, but I can obviously only offer my viewpoint, which can sometimes be slightly limited.

So, in the interest of diversity, the rest of this entry will be written in the style of Peter Murphy.

Last night we had Tom, Meic and Scott 'round to visit our sweetass crib. Meic and I got a pizza from Domino's that I now owe hime £5.50 for, and later on Joel and I played Tekken. I'm improving quite a bit and managed to beat him in, like, 6 matches out of 8. Then we went on Practice Mode and started doing these awesome ten-hit combos. They're really difficult to do because there's a kind of rhythm to them but it keeps changing. Like you'll have to press four buttons as quickly as possible and then wait for the kick to finish before you press the next one and so on.

While I was outside with a cigarette I heard singing coming from the living room. It was Scott and Joel, and they were doing The Lion Sleeps Tonight. It sounded pretty cool, from outside.

Also I've laid down some slug pellets and salt to keep our slimy adversaries out of the house. That kind of backfired last night though, 'cause one came into the kitchen, went over the line of salt, and exploded everywhere.It was really gross and the salt was yellow with his innards.

After Scott left Cliffey, Joel and I wound up playing with Cliffey's remote control car. For some reason in goes faster in reverse - we timed how long it took to cross the hall and it was a second quicker when it was going backwards.

Today we're going to Coffee #1 for the first time since we moved in, although Joel's not coming because he's meeting Sarah. I think she's got to go to Coleg Glan Hafren today.

I really hate not having the internet in the house,

Pete.

*The result of Joel receiving a Make-Your-Own-Opoly set for his birthday.

The Goats From Gemma Meadows (Part 2)

Things looked bleaked for the three goats. Sarah had a terrible tummyache from eating too much marshmallow wall, and, with Pete trying to nurse her back to health, Cliffey was the only one still eating their path to freedom.

But boy could he eat. Everyone knows that goats will eat anything, but who knew they could so much of it?

There were about four inches of marhsmallow left when suddenly...

"The troll!" gasped Sarah, who still sounded quite ill. "He's coming back to life!"

Pete turned around and, yes, clear as day, the puddle of goop that was once that evil troll had started to pull itself together. Already, the troll's horrid green legs were complete, and the bulge of his stomach was coming along nicely.

Cliffey didn't bother turning 'round. He just ate faster. Before that day, only one team of goats had managed to chew through the marshmallow wall and escape. It had taken them a good couple of hours, and there were five of them.

Cliffey was working alone, and with this newfound urgency it looked as though he would break through in a matter of minutes.

Two and a half inches to go.

The troll's disgusting chest arranged itself into place.

Two inches.

His arms began to take shape.

Inch and a half.

The troll, still headless, staggered forward. Sarah and Pete screamed for Cliffey to keep going.

Half an inch left.

As his chin came back into being, the troll's repulsive left arm took a swing at Sarah.

But too late. Cliffey had finished the marshmallow wall, and the very moment he saw daylight, Pete had grabbed Sarah and run for it.

* * *

Once they were sure they had lost the troll, the three goats stopped to plan their next move.

"We're past the troll bridge," Sarah realised aloud. "Now there's nothing standing between us and Joel Fields, where the grass is twice as green and the dandelions twice as dandy as in Gemma Meadows."

"Let's go!" said Pete enthusiastically.

"No."

Sarah and Pete turned to Cliffey. He was shaking his head.

"No?" Sarah's face fell. "But why, Cliffey? We beat the troll! There's nothing stopping us! It's what we've always dreamed of!"

"NOBODY!" roared Cliffey suddenly. "NOBODY HAS EVER EATEN AS MUCH MARSHMALLOW AS I JUST HAVE. I AM RETURNING TO GEMMA MEADOWS, WHERE THE GRASS IS GREEN ENOUGH AND THE DANDELIONS JUST THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF DANDY!"

"But Cliffey," said Pete. "We're so close!"

"Close to what, Pete?" Cliffey was quieter now. "The troll was just the beginning. Who knows what else is in Joel Fields?"

"Greener grass!"

"Dandier dandelions!"

"How do you know?" said Cliffey. And with that, he turned around and headed back towards Gemma Meadows.

A breeze blew through the trees that lined the path.

"Are we going back too?" asked Sarah.

Pete shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

"No."

Sarah wasn't sure what to say.

"But Cliffey-"

"Cliffey can live his own life. We've got a new one waiting for us in Joel Fields. Come on!"

TO BE CONTINUED

I Could Be Your Hero, Baby

Firstly, a correction: Cliffey and I did not see the folk-pop man in central library, because he is playing there next Saturday. I will probably check him out but Cliffey may or may not have something better to do than watch a musician who can't even show up on the right day.

I was also going to apologise for not updating yesterday but I've decided that I don't update on Sundays so I will not apologise as I am right on schedule.

On Saturday night we went into town for JR's birthday, and if my life were a movie my favourite scene would be the one where Syndrome from The Incredibles, Spidergirl, and Enrique Iglesias are walking in formation down a darkened Queen Street, preferably soundtracked by the intro from Eminem's Lose It. It was a fun night but Sarah, Pete and I ducked out before the party headed to Walkabout because we're too cool and attractive to hang around for too long.

On Sunday, Sarah and I went into town and I experienced for I think the first time the weirdness that is St. David's 1 closing on a Sunday afternoon. There was still a steady flow of people in the arcade so it was very strange to see the majority of the shops therein shuttered up. I felt like a ghost in a crowd of ghosts who stalk the arcade at midnight, except it wasn't midnight, it was, like, 5pm, and still fairly light out.

Later on, our many friends came 'round to eat takeaway pizza and enjoy the company of others. I, too, ate pizza, except mine came from the freezer and was cooked, eaten, and washed up before the others had even come back from Pizza Hut. Some would speculate that my Lidl pizza was of inferior quality; I would speculate that these people have more money than I.

Even later on, I attempted to tell some of my housemates a goat-based bedtime story. It was going okay until Pete the goat was chained up in a troll's cave, and Cliffey and Sarah - also goats - had to rescue him with their super watches, containing the power of, respectively, love and friendship. I decided that Pete, and did I mention that Pete in the context of this story was a goat? Anyway, I decided that he needed a special watch to, and asked for suggestions as to what power he should have. Pete - the real, human Pete, as opposed to goat Pete - suggested "Sky Sports!" and I promptly fell off the bed backwards and into his hanging wardrobe.

There was much merriment.

Later even than that I dreamed of crows. I was running through a field and the sky was black with them. I tried my best to dodge them and seemed to be doing a fair job of it until one landed on my head. It peered down at me and I swatted it away...

...and the real me, in bed, swatted too, except instead of a crow I managed to hit Sarah in the face.

Today we have mostly chilled. I made a rockin' tuna salad and demanded to know Cliffey and Sarah's Top 5 acts from Green Man. Nobody asked to hear mine but, in case YOU'RE curious, here it is:

JOEL'S TOP 5 AWESOME BANDS FROM GREEN MAN 2010

1. The Flaming Lips
2. Tindersticks
3. Steve Mason
4. Sparrow & The Workshop
5. The Besnard Lakes

Tonight, it looks like a game of Pretty Fuckin' Gayopoly is on the cards. 

Joel.

P.S. Sorry for such a long entry, it really doesn't seem like this much has happened.

China & Spain

Just a quick one today. I'm sat next to Cliffey on the computers in central library and there's a guy playing "folk-pop" downstairs in ten minutes so we're gonna check him out.

Last night marked the first time we the house ordered a takeaway! We had Chinese from Silver Palace. I had lemon chicken. It was good but I was very full afterwards.

Well I think it's noteworthy. Today is JR's birthday, so we're going into town in fancy dress for the occasion. The theme is heroes and villains. I'm going as Enrique Iglesias.

I'm also writing a song, but more on that another time.

Joel.

Slugs!

This edition of Cutlery comes to you from the computers in Cathays library, because - and this is a confesson - the house doesn't have an internet connection yet. So far I've been returning to my family's house to update this, but I felt it was about time I went a whole day without going home.

So here I am. Up 'til now I've spent most of the day indoors, because we're due a visit from a) the window repairman (see previous blog) and b) our landlord, who is coming to discuss, among other things, setting up an internet connection. Gem, Soph and Cliffey are all out, but thankfully Pete woke up about an hour ago and very kindly agreed to hold the fort for a bit while I went out for some fresh air.

Since last I updated, I have filled my cupboard with food and moved the remainder of my stuff in, including my TV, my PS1, my DVD player, my Make Your Own Monopoly board, and, well, pretty much all my fun stuff. Today I have watched Dodgeball, played Rayman, and watched as Danny Murphy punched one of JR's German footballers on FIFA '98, but lest this turn into Tales of the Idle I'll wrap this paragraph up and explain the post title.

At around 3.20 last night, Sarah woke me up and told me that Pete wanted me in the kitchen. I asked why, and she informed me that the kitchen was full of slugs.

Being still half-asleep, I panicked. Until moments ago I had been dreaming peacefully about a city made from Lego, and now I had to face an army of slugs trying to eat my battenburg. At first, I refused to leave the bed because, as I told Sarah, "I can't deal with slugs".

But eventually I managed to steel myself and go take a look. I was relieved to learn that the slug armada had failed to reach my food supply, and Pete had already disposed of most of their troops, but jeez. There were two on the floor when I arrived; apparently there had been as many as 7.

And the worst part is that we can't work out how they got in. The doors and windows were all shut, and the scattered trails of slime were of no help, neither leading nor coming from anyway.

So that's another thing I may have to take up with Paul the Landlord. The computer has informed me that my NetLoan session ends soon, so I shall hastily sign off and log out.

Until next time,
Joel.

The Party, or, How to Slap Windows

Mere hours after arriving at our new home, we opened its doors to a veritable stampede of friends, friends of friends, and Soph's sister's friends.

With something approaching 40 people in the house, there was bound to be some damage, so perhaps the broken window should come as no surprise. Certainly we have tackled the problem well; the perpetrator, who shall remain nameless, paid for a replacement, and it should be sorted by this time tomorrow.

Otherwise, the house came through it more or less intact. Soph was bemoaning the number of nearly-full cans left lying around, and one individual lost their keys in the maelstrom and probably had to wake up their parents at 3 in the morning upon returning home, but c'est la vie.

Today we went (minus Pete, who was sleeping) to The Crwys, one of the local pubs. Cliffey would probably like me to make a note of how miffed he was at paying £2.69 for a small bowl of ice cream when I paid the same amount for a big ol' treacle sponge chocolate sundae thing, but it seemed like a nice enough joint, and there's a quiz on Tuesdays so I guess we'll be returning soon enough.

Finally, I wish to inform you all of Cliffey's curtains, which are red, and so make the whole room red. It's awesome.

Joel.

Breaking It In

Hokieskokes, so we've moved in and already the fun has started.

Once we'd unpacked everything and were beginning to settle down, Pete came into my room to see what it was like. He sat down on the bed, commented on how squeaky it was, and offered to get some WD-40 to fix it. The frame was duly sprayed, and he ordered me to jump on it a little to test the squeakiness.

And the bed broke.

So it's currently being propped up with a suitcase, but the good news is that Pete is going to use his rock hammer to try and knock the bent frame back into place. I suspect this may be another scheme of his, but I'd rather not tell our new landlord that I've already broken something.

Apart from that it's all been running fairly smoothly. Other than the five I mentioned yesterday, we've got Sarah (my girlfriend), Alex (Sophie's boyfriend), and JR (friend to all mankind) helping us get to know the place.

More people will be arriving tonight, but I've padlocked my room for the moment so hopefully I can go a few hours without breaking anything else.

Joel.