The Last Big Weekend of the Summer

LAST WEEKEND 


Unusually splendid weather for October. Aside from my fully foreseen FIFA failure (fuck), we spent a lovely weekend at Sian's house, in Penarth.

The sun had been out all week, and we'd decided beforehand that we ought to make the most of it on the weekend with some activity or other. Said activity turned out to be a barbecue* in Sian's rather spacious garden, so we hit up Tesco, bought some burgers and sausages and alcohol, and-

Oh but I'm getting ahead of myself. Earlier that Saturday, a few of us had been at Varsity, enjoying the Merseyside derby (or not, in some cases) and eating food and drinking drink. Sarah and I shared a pitcher of strawberry daiquiri, which got us surprisingly tipsy. I'm sure this is the wrong way 'round, but I seem to be getting lightweighter every time I drink.

But yes, once we had sobered up (and, in some cases, cheered up; Everton is a silly team to support), we headed to Tesco and then on to Sian's. The barbecue** was a great success, and I was even cajoled into watching The X Factor. And missing Strictly Come Dancing, which I still haven't had time to catch up on, but there we are.

Sunday was beautiful too, so we hit the pier and got some ice cream. We also saw a fisherman catch a conger eel, which was exciting.

So that was the last big weekend of the summer.

THIS WEEKEND


As I'm typing this on Friday afternoon, the weather is actually quite nice, but we're doing Autumnal things this time around. Tomorrow it's football; Tom, Cliffey and I are going to Swindon to watch Hereford lose again, because a) Tom seems to enjoy watching his team be rubbish, and b) Paolo Di Canio will be there. On Sunday, Sarah and I will be eating Sunday dinner with my parents...and also her parents. It'll be the first time our folks have met each other, so hopefully all will go smoothly and we'll be enjoying the crackle of fireworks and the crunch of leaves underfoot before we know it.

By the way, my review is here. Hopefully there'll be another one soon.

Joel.

*I still can't believe that the word 'barbecue' contains no letter Q.

**Seriously!

The Phantom Video Sniffer

So yeah, Cliffey and I went to that gig and it was good, although being as it was a 14+ show we did feel rather old. I won't go on about it too much here because hopefully my review should be up on the Miniature Music Press website before too long and I can just lazily link you all to that.
Lovely weather we're having recently, isn't it? There are rumours that a group of us might be going to Barry Island on Sunday, to frolic and laugh and play with a ball and generally make the most of this unusual warmth.

Sarah's been missing most of the sunshine due to, y'know, jobs and stuff, so it was a pleasant surprise yesterday when her dad came into Sturff and told us that he would look after the shop for a bit if we wanted to have a meander around Penarth.

We acceded, naturally, and so off we went to work on our tans. I of course live a pretty leisurely life, so had already seen my share of the sun (hell, I'd been doing timed laps earlier in the day to pass the time), but for Sarah, who had barely been outside all week, this was a revelation. Summer, it seemed, had finally arrived.

...Mind you, it was really hot outdoors, so we periodically took shelter in Penarth's many charity shops. We didn't buy anything, but we did see a boy getting slightly intimate with some old VHS cassettes in the Oxfam shop. I thought he was just sniffing them; Sarah suspects that he was in fact licking them. Either way.

Cliffey and Tom were playing FIFA '12 last night, mere hours after its midnight release. I suspect we might join them this evening. Apparently it's really difficult to tackle now. To be honest I was never that good at it to begin with.

Hello Facebook apologies. How I didn't miss you.

Joel.

Fun & Interesting Things

It has occurred to me that there was a ten-day gap between my last two posts. I'm sure you're all wondering if any fun things happened over that period.

The answer is yes! One fun thing is that Tom and I were playing FIFA, and he was beating me 8-0 so I got angry and turned it off!

Ha!

Joel.

Cliffey's Card

"Yo CLIFFEY! Happy BIRTHDAY!"

Sorry to make three consecutive posts on the topic of Cliffey's 20th, but hey, that's what's been happening lately and besides, this should be the last one.

"Enjoy Everton!"

And the matter up for discussion this time is his present. This coming Saturday, myself and Tom will be escorting Cliffey up to Liverpool to watch Everton and Aston Villa duke it out for the title of Most Mid-Table Team in the Premiership. Cliffey was already aware of this plan - we had to make sure he kept the day free and didn't, say, go to Swansea - but as it was his birthday present we thought it would be nice to give him the tickets in a lovely birthday card with some sort of thoughtful message.

"I hope they lose 5-0."

So after work Tom collected first me from the Atrium then Sarah from Coleg Glan Hafren and the three of us proceeded to Tom's house so that he could change out of his work clothes. While he got on with that, Sarah and I played with his dog, Molly (who has grown substantially since last I saw her). She seemed wary of us at first - perhaps dogs hate green hoodies? - but soon we earned her trust and she shook our hands and let us stroke her and tried to hump me in spite of having recently been spayed.

"But they won't, 'cos we're there!"

After...that, we went to Tesco to a) get the card, and b) buy something for tea. We entertained the idea of buying him a "Happy Birthday, Grandad!" card just to make him feel really old, or perhaps an "It's A Baby Boy!" card just for the Dada value (no pun intended). But eventually we played it simple and got him a nice blue "Happy Birthday, Brother!" card, big enough to write loads of lovey-dovey crap in.

"Because that really worked for Hereford."

We got chicken and potato waffles for tea.

"DON'T RUIN THIS JOEL IT'S CLIFFEY'S BIRTHDAY!"

On returning home, we handed Cliffey the card, with which he was overjoyed, although I have a sneaking suspicion he might not have liked it as much had it not contained three tickets to an Everton match. Later on, Tom came back to the house, as did JR and "Dave from work", and they played FIFA long into the night. But I've learned not to take such risks. Sarah and I went to bed and watched Despicable Me, lest I should once again be beaten 5-0 and have to apologise on Facebook.

"Fuck you Tom."

Joel.

These Conversations Did Not Take Place

But They Might Have.

* * *

Joel: You know what was a great song?
Cliffey: What?
Joel: The theme tune from Mummies Alive!
Cliffey: I...can't say I remember that.
Joel: Well you suck.

* * *

Gem: Dammit! Who the hell eats curry out of a glass, anyway?

* * *

Pete: Who wants to come to the shop with me?
Joel: No thanks Pete, I'm not wearing a shirt.
Pete: Sarah?
Sarah: You are a dick!

* * *

Soph: They're all animals!
Man on Only Connect: They're all brands of hand dryer.
Lady from Only Connect: That...is...correct!
Soph: Moh.

* * *

Tom: Oh it's a chance!
Cliffey: Shit!
Tom: Has to score!
Cliffey: Shit!
Tom: YEEEEEEEES! Slotted!
Cliffey: Shit!
Joel: Cliffey, that was your fault.

* * *

Soph: Check out the gloves I stole from work!
Pete: Those are some pretty sweet gloves, Soph.
Alex: Yeah, you're not supposed to take those.
Soph: Shut up, douche!

* * *

Gem: Sarah, did you clean up all those fag butts from outside?
Sarah: Yarr.
Gem: That was Pete's job!
Sarah: He be walkin' the plank.
Gem: I...are you...
Sarah: I'm a pirate today.

* * *

Alex: I'm just feeling kind of...I dunno. I miss you, and Soph keeps calling me a douche, and I don't know how I can hold up a meaningful relationship with a kleptomaniac...yeah...yeah, I know, I have to be strong. Okay. I love you too, JR.

* * *

Joel: And I would do an-eh-theng for love...I would do an-eh-thing for loooOOOVE...I would do an-eh-thiing for love...
Pete: Me ken't believe it's not kastard! 'Cuz it tayests like kastard taystes!

* * *

Sarah: I bought you a flan base, Cliffey.
Cliffey: Awh, thanks, Saz.
Sarah: And Pete, I got you some crisps.
Pete: Quavers? QUAVERS?! NOBODY LIKES QUAVERS, YOU CUR!
Joel: I like Quavers.
Cliffey: God, Pete.

* * *

Soph: I like chicken!
Gem: Soph, living with you is like I bought the dictionary on audiobook and put it on Shuffle.
Soph: I don't read books.

* * *

Tom: I'm working on a rap, right? It's called "The World I Mapped & The Ass I Tapped".
Joel: What?
Tom: It's about Christopher Columbus.
Joel: I'm going to bed.

* * *

For the record, no, I don't know how I managed to insert a hyperlink into my speech.

Joel.

Wound Up and Ready to Play

I love music. Obviously.

Which is good because there's music everywhere! From the crap that you have to listen to when you're playing Fifa because the dicks who keep beating you some goals-no goals over and over and over again think that Akon is God to the awesome stuff that you've been listening to on YouTube for the past two months and finally bought the album for a fiver, it all colours in the whiteness that is otherwise life.

The past weekend has been particularly musicalicious for me, and as the too long sentence above suggested, it started with Cliffey and Tom making me listen to Akon while they beat me at Fifa. And yes I know I've already complained about Akon once here, and I almost kind of found him slightly okay prior to all this nonsense, but their insistence that I actually love him only makes me hate him all the more. Sorry chaps.

On Saturday I was up bright and early because my dad and I were heading to Bristol. It's a thing we do occasionally; he goes to lots of charity shops to buy Penguin Classics, then I go to Fopp and buy lots of CDs. I spent £34 there this time, on such wonderful artists as Tom Waits, Stephin Merritt, Sparklehorse, Grinderman, and Bombay Bicycle Club, although that last one was for Sarah. I also got a Tindersticks album, because they played this song at Green Man and I've been completely enamoured with it recently so I thought it was about time I bought the album. I put said album on in the car on the way back, and I think my dad would have been more open-minded about the whole experience if the first line hadn't been something about strangling.

Saturday evening, and a few of us (namely me, Sarah, Mark, and Elusive Dave, whom I may or may not have mentioned before) went to see Josh play his SCRIBER songs in great big capital letters at Cathays Community Centre. It was part of the Swn festival, although I feel that just seeing my friend Josh and some sort of youth punk band doesn't really count as "going to the Swn festival", so when my lecturer asked us in the session earlier who had been to the Swn festival, I kept quiet. Anyway, Josh was excellent as ever, and I managed to keep mostly quiet with my incessant heckling this time. He did a cover of Girl From The North Country and all was right with the world*.

That night we went out to see in Meic's 20th birthday at the Owain Glyndwr or however you crazy Welsh people might go about spelling it. Meic asked me to write a couple of rap songs to put on the album he has to produce for his course, so I should probably do that at some point; as good as P-Town is, it's only one track, and he needs six**. I also admitted to really liking Jai Ho! (You Are My Destiny) by the Pussycat Dolls but was very pleased to find that Sarah, instead of mocking me, also confessed to liking it. Then Bad Romance came on and I was very pleased about that, too.

Yesterday, Sunday, was my mum's birthday, so Sarah and I went over to my parents' house to fork over her present and card. I got her a purple handbag from Sturff, because she said she liked it and I get honorary employee discount there so woohoo. My mum was just surprised to find that I was giving her anything other than a CD, which is all I usually stretch to. I even got her a card, generous bastard that I am.

Sarah and I somehow ended up reminiscing over Digimon memorabilia, before retreating to my room for a power nap on my far more comfortable than our bed in the student house bed. The nap was soundtracked by British Sea Power's Do You Like Rock Music?, which is a great album whether you're asleep or awake.

In the evening we went to The Globe to see oh my goodness it's British Sea Power what a coincidence. They played many wonderful songs with names like Lights Out For Darker Skies and Favours In The Beetroot Fields, and people had leafy branches to wave and I bought a t-shirt from the merch desk which had placemats with ducks on and Sarah reckoned the bassist and the violinist were going out because she touched his bum at one point but I didn't see it. I also managed to get my grubby hands on a setlist, which was itself fairly grubby because I think the keyboardist trod on it. Good times.

So that was my weekend in music. I'm currently listening to Freezepop's Here Comes A Special Boy for something like the seventh consecutive time, a song made all the more awesome by the fact that it's about Achewood, which everyone should read so here's a link to that too.

I was trying to play a Klezmer Kollectiv song on my baritone earlier. I'm getting quite good.

Joel.

*I was, however, absolutely APOPLECTIC that the free CDs Josh was handing out had moons printed on them. Mine just has writing on it, although it is a limited edition first pressing so that kind of makes up for it.

**Speaking of P-Town, some kind soul put it up on YouTube the other night, just over a year after it first went up. It's not got a whole lot of views yet, so everybody go watch it.

Tinny Timber

Last night was spent the way I seem to end up spending most of Friday nights recently - playing Fifa in Cliffey's room. Now as I believe I have previously mentioned here, I'm not the best at Fifa, and Cliffey and Tom were doing their best to put me off my game even further by bombarding me with Akon songs. I was not best pleased; Right Now is alright but that was the first song on the album, and there was a lot of crap to wade through afterwards. To make matters worse, once they'd tired of Akon they made a start on the Tinie Tempah.

Actually, forget "make matters worse". Tinie Tempah is better than Akon in my book (although that's not saying much), and I think his appeal comes mostly from his lyrics. Some of them are very silly indeed. I made the claim last night that anyone could write lyrics like that - it's just an assortment of arbitrary statements about his life. Cliffey said I should write my next blog in the style of a Tinie Tempah song, so that's what I'm gonna do. It was gonna be called Friday (Against All Odds) but looking at the Disc-Overy tracklist I don't think TT really does brackets, so instead it's simply called:

Against All Odds

I got uni at eleven in the morning
I gotta write a song and then make a recording
I make a techno track you cannot say is boring
The beat is thumping and the melodies are soaring

But there's a problem when I try to have a listen
The music cuts out like there's half a second missing
And while I'm fixing it I realise that I'm missing
Lunch with my girlfriend who I'd much rather be kissing

But against all odds
There can be no doubt
Give me forty-five minutes
And I'll sort this out
Yeah against all odds
I'll put up a fight
I'll give it everything I got
And it'll be alright

So now I gotta burn it onto CD
Sarah's waiting so I know I must be speedy
But there's more problems jumping out at me like 3D
'Cause when I try to go on Windows Medi

(a Player)

It says says my song ain't the right format
And let me tell you I don't motherfucking like that
I don't like iTunes 'cause the Mac lab ain't my habitat
And I gotta do this all in five minutes flat

But against all odds
There can be no doubt
Even in five minutes
I can sort this out
Yeah against all odds
I'll put up a fight
I'll give it everything I got
And it'll be alright

So I hand in my CD at the reception
I'm under pressure like I'm running for election
I call my baby up, I'm ready for redemption
I wanna cut this morning out like a c-section

We go to Queen Street for a cuppa and a sit down
We go to Caffé Nero, I feel like a hero
Such an awful morning, total utter zero
But there ain't none of that bullshit here, oh

'Cause against all odds
There can be no doubt
Give me forty-five minutes
And I'll sort this out
Yeah against all odds
I'll put up a fight
I'll give it everything I got
And it'll be alright
It'll be alright
It'll be alright
Flying like a kite
It'll be alright
Yeah.

Joel.

Pedro The Benevolent

I had a lovely moment earlier this evening. I had dragged myself out of bed to make a quick run to the Co-Op, and I was on my way back home to grab a fork and demolish the chocolate meringue roulade I had just purchased. How middle class a student I am. Anyway, I was wearing my enormous black longcoat, and while I was passing a group of youths, one of them called me 'Undertaker'. I think I was supposed to be offended, but I wasn't. It was awesome. I used to love The Undertaker, he was my second favourite after Edge.

So last night we went to the cinema to see The Social Network. Sarah and I had been enjoying another awesome meal at Bella Italia - culminating once again in The Godfather, a gigantic sundae containing whipped cream, chocolate ice cream, brownie, vanilla ice cream, wafers, and chocolate raisins - and we rendez-vous'd with the others at Cineworld. Soph, Alex, Pete, Cliffey, and Tom were those who came, and we were all very excited right up until the point where we discovered that The Social Network was sold out.

This came as a disappointment. I had topped up my pone specifically to text 241, and Cliffey hadn't been to the cinema since Australia. But it was not to be - some of us were prepared to go and see a different film, but Despicable Me was ruled out on the grounds of being a "kid's film" (Soph) and we couldn't see Mr. Nice because it's an 18 and some people didn't bring any ID (Pete...and me).  So back we went, but not until after Cliffey and Tom had hit up the pick 'n' mix. They weren't leaving empty handed, no way no how.

When we got back we decided that we were watching a film come hell or high water, so Pete set about downloading one while the rest of us chilled. Tom, Cliffey and I had a quick game of Fifa (we were all on the same team, and we won 2-1 after extra time, boom) and before long the film was ready to watch.

So we sat down in the living room - minus Soph and Alex, who we'd lost somewhere down the line, and Sarah, who had gone to bed, but plus Gem, who had been hangin' around in the house this whole time - and watched Kill Bill.

In Italian. With English subs. It was still really good, but it did get a little confusing when people started speaking Japanese in Italian in English.

Pete would like me to point out that not only did he go to the bother of downloading the film, he also paid for our taxi back from the cinema. So thanks Pete; you kept us out of the cold.

Joel.

Au Revoir JR

The Core Eight is no more. JR has gone to university. What will we do without him?

We're all devastated, of course, but I think the most upset is Soph. She'd never admit it, of course, but I think she's going to miss pestering him in the mornings, when he's crashed out on the airbed and she wants to watch TV.

We had a send-off gathering for him last night. It was less riotous than DanGuy's leaving do, but, unlike DanGuy's departure, there was no cause for celebration here. At one point, Cliffey actually burst into tears, and Alex had to do his special dance to cheer him up*.

This morning, JR, Cliffey and I had one last game of Risk to see JR on his way - Cliffey won, the bastard - and we waved our friend off with tears in our eyes. I don't think he's actually left Cardiff yet, but I'm fairly sure that'll be the last we see of him for a while.

So our Core Eight is down to Seven. There's some controversy as to whether we should leave it like that, or draft someone in to replace JR. Of course, no one could replace blah blah blah, but I reckon if anyone is going to get us back to eight (and somebody probably should, or the next Goldeneye tournament won't work at all) it'll probably be Tom. He's been 'round a lot recently anyway, and he and Cliffey seem to be getting on well, what with all the Fifa and such, so he seems the obvious choice. But he will have to see off strong competition from the likes of Anna Sharp, who hasn't been 'round that much but does seem to fit right in around here; and Josh Price, who holds the considerable advantage of having the same name as his predecessor.

Maybe we'll have auditions.

Joel.

P.S. I feel I ought to also mention that there was a bit of a bomb scare today. I met Sarah for lunch outside Coleg Glan Hafren, and she'd just gotten off the phone to her friend Emily. Emily had apparently been in hysterics, telling Sarah to get out of Cardiff because there was a bomb at the prison. This worried me, because I was supposed to be in uni in the afternoon, and the Atrium is right next door to the prison. But after consulting uni websites and news outlets, and calling our friends and family from Wetherspoon's and asking them to do likewise, we concluded that it was all safe. And it was - I got through my afternoon lecture un-blown up. So where Emily got her facts from I have no idea.

*Not really.

Digimon = Digital Monsters

When I woke up this morning I immediately started panicking, because it was 8.20 and I had a lecture* at 9. I was about to get up and get going as fast as I could, but then I remembered that Pete had given my bike a tune-up, and that there was no need to hurry because the journey to the Atrium only took fifteen minutes by bike.

So I lay back down for a few minutes, which turned out to be a mistake, because by the time I woke up for the second time that morning it was 8.50 and my lecture started in 10 minutes. And I still wasn't dressed.

It was about 9.15 when I finally arrived at the Atrium, but at least I know now that I can't use cycling as an excuse for a lie-in.

Yesterday evening I went to Swanbridge, which I think is technically part of Penarth. It's where Sarah lives,
and there are a pair of swings a mere stone's throw away. It's not very often I get to go on swings nowadays - the only set around here are in Roath Rec, and they're usually occupied by children, who seem to think they have some kind of priority - so I was eager to have a go on these ones, slightly off the beaten track as they are. So we swang on the swings, and discussed what we would eventually do with our lives, and where to begin. The swings are a good place for deep conversations like that.

Back at Sarah's house her 12-year-old stepbrother Will challenged me to a game of Fifa '10, a game at which I am notoriously bad. I have lost many times to Tom, Cliffey, and even JR. The last time I played, Tom's Cardiff City beat my Liverpool 9-1. It was embarrassing. Admittedly I have been playing Fifa '11 a lot lately and I'm not nearly as bad at that, but that, contrary to what you might believe, is a TOTALLY DIFFERENT GAME.

Anyway, I played as Liverpool and Will, oh goody, was Cardiff. I braced myself for another defeat, this time at the hands of someone so young he probably doesn't even know what Digimon is.

But as it happened, I won! Only 1-0, but still. Some might say that my victory isn't that impressive, because it came against a) an inferior team, and b) an opponent 7 years my junior. To be fair, they probably have a point, but as it was my first ever victory on this game, I'll take it.

Back at the house, Cliffey and I shared another Tesco's apple crumble. Sarah and I also went on Sporcle and tried to name all 69 Love Songs, and nobody could understand why When A Man Loves A Woman wasn't one of them.

Oh well. Those of us in the know retired to our bedroom, stuck the album on, and felt smug because we knew about all this great music and no-one else did.

Seriously, everybody has to buy 69 Love Songs. I felt asleep after about 11 of them last night, but I was just tired.

Joel.

*In the lecture we listened to a track by PJ Harvey and John Parish called Taut. The majority of the class hated it but I for one thought it rocked. Make up your minds.

Asploding Coke

Pete has gone to Devon for a few days, but he's left us with a bit of a mess in the freezer. He left a can of Coke in there, you see, and there was some expansion, and now his cock Coke has exploded. So there's now a sort of brownish sludge in the freezer - Soph thought it was shit, but it wasn't - and we're trying to decide whether to clean it up or leave it to show Pete.

Everyone seems to have had a nice, gay weekend, especially Cliffey and Tom who spent almost the whole time playing Fifa, stopping only to go and watch the real football in Varsity. The rest of us, not best pleased with the vast crowd in Varsity, went to Coffee #1 instead. I had a slice of chocolate cake, and it almost killed me.

Unfortunately for anyone who might have wanted any of my time over the next few months, the new series of Strictly Come Dancing started on Friday.

And now I'm going to sign off and watch The Inbetweeners. My life is slowly being taken over by TV shows.

Joel.

Sleep with Marion Kill

So yesterday I was gonna get Pete to do an entry - he did ask - but he changed his mind and so there was no update yesterday. To make up for it, here's a selection of what we came up with at The Cottage tonight when faced with a cavalcade of shag/marry/kills.

Snow White 
Jasmine
Ariel


I fielded this one, and I decided that Snow White would be the one to marry. Tom wasn't convinced at first, but I argued that her ability to summon birds to clean the house might come in handy.

Dame Judi Dench 
Dame Helen Mirren
Dame Edna Everage


This one was for Pete, and after killing Edna Everage with no hesitation, he admitted that he didn't know the difference between the remaining two, so any answer he could give would be arbitrary.

Ali
Ralgex
Welshie


Three girls Cliffey met on his travels. I've never met them, I've no idea what they look like, but I wanted to prove that I'd been reading his blog.

Woody from Toy Story
Woody from Toy Story 2
Woody from Toy Story 3


Cliffey again. At first he asserted that he was a knob in TS3, but I pointed out that he was a bigger knob in TS1, because at least he had a point in TS3. He accepted this, but before he gave a final answer we were interrupted by Soph asking if this was what we had come to.

We also made up a variation where you are presented with three songs and you have to pick one to lose your virginity to, one for the first dance at your wedding, and one for your funeral. That one was quite fun to but for now I'm gonna have a quick game of Fifa and then I'm going to bed.

Joel

P.S. Quote of the Week:

"Taiwan? They're 'avin a great time!"

                                                                   - Cliffey

Oktoberfest

October has come and it's been raining. A lashing bitch of a day was not what I wanted to see when I opened the door this morning, especially given that I had to do the trip to the Atrium on foot, my baritone case's handle carving deep canyons into my hand all the while.

But Pete complained last night that this is becoming a Joel blog rather than a house blog, so I shall keep it strictly at home this time.

And what's going on in the house right now?

Fifa night!

Basically, Cliffey bought Fifa 2011 this morning (it came out at midnight; Tom was in line at Tesco's before Cliffey was even back from work last night) and it's looking increasingly like we're going to spend the whole night at it. I suggested some sort of championship thing where we play every version of Fifa we have handy- we've got 6, across three different consoles - and see who's the best overall. But frankly I can't see that happening, so enamoured are we with this shiny new thing.

So here we are, Cliffey, Tom and me, in Cliffey's room, in our pyjamas, playing Fifa 'til the morning light. Tom's rung his dad to say he won't be home tonight, Cliffey's put an apple crumble in the oven for us, and we're settling in for the night. I've even opted to forgo the first episode of Strictly Come Dancing, although I imagine I'll catch it on catch up, big girl that I am.

I am aware that some people reading this won't be the least bit interested in Fifa - as Tom said earlier, "girls just don't get Fifa" - so I'll leave it be for a moment and mention Tim's send-off at The George last night. We trudged through the already sheeting rain to get there, and spent the whole time standing up, but several people were happy to spend quite a lot of money on the quiz machine so we were well entertained. Oh, and a guy came around with a camera and asked us if we'd like to be on the screens around the pub. We did, apparently, so he took a picture of us all and I for one will not be returning to The George for fear of seeing my own terrible visage grinning back at me.

Now more on Fifa! The soundtrack to Fifa '11 is pretty damn sweet, with music from the likes of LCD Soundsystem, Yeasayer, Dan Black, Dum Dum Girls...the list goes on. It's a world away from the old games, where you'd get a Moby song and then six dancey tracks you'll never be able to find outside of your PS1.

See what I did there? I made it so that people who don't like football can relate to the Fifa obsession going on around here.

As for those housemates who aren't playing Fifa (i.e. wasting their evenings), Pete just now stumbled in looking as though he's just gotten new eyelids and he's not used to them yet; Gem's sat in the living room watching TV and getting drunk on a bottle of rosé; and Soph's gotten over her food poisoning and is currently at a children's party.

Cliffey, Tom and I just had some apple crumble (£1 from Tesco) and custard (8p from Tesco), and it's beginning to look like a very good night indeed.

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.

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.

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.