Lazitude

Just one post for October? Appalling, I know. Especially since last October had like twenty. You lot probably have no idea what's going on around here, do you?

Well Tom and Cliffey and I did indeed go to the football in Swindon. There was some pre-match doubt as to whether we could actually be bothered to pay the entrance fee but we did eventually squeeze through the turnstile and into the stadium, where we witnessed a rather nail-biting 3-3 draw. We were sat in the Swindon stand but were secretly supporting Hereford, which Tom made painfully obvious by going "YEEEEEEAH!" after the first Hereford goal.

Since then...no particular incidents spring to mind and that's maybe a sign that I should update this more frequently. I've been going to uni, which is fine by me because I have Wednesdays and Thursdays off so it kind of works out that I get two weekends. I've been going over to Swanbridge on those days to keep Sarah company in Sturff (she seems to end up working those days a lot, oddly) and, well, everything's pretty dandy I suppose. I still have no idea how my life is going to go after university, but at least I've got my unpaid journalism gig.

http://themmp.tv/live/cave-painting-clwb-ifor-bach-october-14th-2011/

JD

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!

Goodbye to Soph/Z-Cars

Soph has moved out.

I was at my parents' house when I got the news. It was Mother's Day, we had just finished our dinner, and were now sat watching Toy Story 3 when I received this text:

"I have had to go back home :( council tax were on to me and my

parents thought it was best for me to come back :("

This was a concern. I excused myself from Toy Story 3 - it was just at the bit in the furnace but fortunately I've seen it before so I know that they don't all die - and headed back to Tewkesbury Place.

Coming through the front door I noticed a suitcase at the top of the stairs.

It actually turned out to belong to Pete but it was still poignant.

* * *

The previous day, we had been busy with Cliffey's birthday present. As previously mentioned, Tom and I had bought tickets to see Everton vs. Aston Villa, and boy howdy were we excited.

The drive up to Liverpool was long, but not that long. We had our music, some food, an Everton shirt flagging out of the rear window and, most importantly, we had each other, so the 4 hours passed quite quickly. We even managed to find time to stop at a service station near Birmingam, where we came across a busload of Chelsea supporters on their way to Stoke. They were loud and obnoxious - one of them called Tom and Cliffey cunts because they were wearing Everton shirts - but Stoke managed to hold their team to a disappointing 1-1 draw so hahaha.

The drive back was more of a slog. Two hours it took us to get from the car park to Runcorn bridge, a journey that Google Maps would have you believe takes just over 25 minutes. But post-match traffic and roadworks conspired to slow us down as much as possible. On the plus side, when we did eventually get out of Merseyside, Cliffey knew a rather nice route that took us down through North Wales and Middle England, where we witnessed some of the best place names I've ever heard, all of which I happily shouted out as we passed the signs:

"Knockin Heath!"

"Hope Under Dinmore!"

"Rhosllanerchrugog!"

Also, Cliffey has just pointed out that, while we were stuck in the Liverpool traffic, we saw Randy Lerner drive past in his limo. Apparently he's the Aston Villa chairman or something important like that.

But I've yet to mention the bit in between, the actual football bit. It was good, a 2-2 draw. There was all sorts going on - goals that should have been disallowed but weren't, goals that should have been allowed but weren't, a penalty, Emile Heskey...the works. Tom and Cliffey did not manage to convince me to don the Everton shirt that had been dangling out the window, but fortunately nobody cottoned on to the fact that I'm actually Liverpool fan.

I did get some stick though, not least as we were leaving the stadium when some bright spark in an Everton top broke the news that "Liverpool lost!" which evoked a cheer from all present.

As I pointed out at the time, if the best part of a football match is hearing that another team lost, it's time to support a different team.

Cunts.

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.

Should Have Gone To Heli-Beds

It's fair to say that Tom, Cliffey and myself enjoy a spot of football now and then.

We usually satiate our soccerlust by playing various editions of FIFA, cheering on our fantasy teams on the Sky Sports website, and occasionally even going to Varsity to actually watch a game.

Last week, however, we decided to step it up a notch.

We decided that we would go to a proper football ground and watch a proper football match like proper fans.

The hard part was deciding which team to see. Cliffey lobbied for Everton vs. Blackpool, but the tickets would have been expensive, and the journey long. And I wasn't too keen on taking a pew in Goodison Park anyway.

Perhaps, then, we could go and see Cliffey's other team, Huddersfield Town, in action? They were in Exeter this weekend, and though Devon was a fair jaunt away, it would surely be a grand day out.

But no, too far. So we eventually settled for Hereford United vs. Lincoln City; Tom had family in Hereford, and as such he'd been to a few of their games before. He promised cheap and plentiful tickets and a relatively short drive. Plus, in all the games he'd gone to, he'd never seen his beloved United score a goal, so that would be nice for him.

So on Saturday morning we set off. Cliffey and I made it fairly clear that the music we wanted to listen to didn't feature anyone from N-Dubz, and so it was a relatively pleasant drive. We stopped at Tesco to get some food for the road, and my insistence that real men didn't buy pre-made sandwiches lead to rather a lot of crumbs in Tom's car. This is mostly due to my method: tearing off chunks of french bread and wrapping them in slices of discount ham, while tasty, is admittedly a slightly flawed way of doing things if you want to keep the surrounding area tidy.

A couple of hours and many, many jokes about Hereford later we arrived at Edgar Street. It took us a while to find a parking space - it must have been peak time at Heli-Beds - but we eventually found a spot, paid our £14, squeezed through the turnstile, and took our place at the side of the pitch.

Unfortunately, in spite of all the sportsmanship ("Booooooooo! Ya fat shit!"), witty and creative chants ("Come on Hereford!") and the opportunity to be amongst other people who really appreciate fantastic football ("What a shit kick!"), the game ended 0-0 so it was a bit of a waste of time really.*

But in spite of this dull performance**, we still enjoyed ourselves. Which just goes to show that the joy is in the journey, not whatever it is you're going for.

Unless you're on your way to any match that doesn't involve Hereford United. The Huddersfield and Everton matches were both veritable goalfests, with Huddersfield thumping Exeter 4-1, and Everton coming from 3-2 down to beat Blackpool 5-3 in what was probably a very exciting match.

And, to top it off, Tom has still yet to see his favourite West Country team score. On the plus side, he did get to drown his sorrows in an ice cream sundae and some illegal salad at Harvester afterwards, so he was in a good mood for the Mario Party 2 drinking game.

More on that another time.

Joel.

*The 'official' sources will tell you that Lincoln won 1-0 but I was looking at my programme when the 'goal' was 'scored'  so as far as I'm concerned it was goalless. The BBC, as well as both clubs' official websites will tell you otherwise, but you know what? I was there.

**The only one who was really making any effort at all was the old man running back and forth with half-time snacks. He was a HERO.

A Town That's Right For Me

I've just had a band practice, and today that meant playing Funkytown over and over again for about an hour and a half. It doesn't half get in yer 'ead, that song. And we haven't even got a cowbell, so our version is rubbish.

I mentioned a coupla weeks ago that our band assignment this year was to play a gig with a theme. Some people in the past have down psychedelic, or ska sets.

We're doing songs from Shrek. So that means Funkytown, I'm A Believer, Hallelujah, and Holding Out For A Hero, which I have chosen to spearhead because I loves the power ballads, I do. Especially when I can stitch in some kind of epic horn solo.

Now, the keener-eyed of you will have noticed that I didn't update over the weekend, but in my defense there's not been all that much to write about. The bins were getting mighty full, and the fruit flies mighty numerous, so Gem had another clean-up (I helped a bit, honest! (Well, I took the recycling bag out)) and bought some new, pink, rubber gloves, which are rather fetching. She also bought a Fridge Freshener, which is like an air freshener but - get this - it goes in the fridge. So our leftover pizza may be smelling a bit lemony by the time I come to eat it.

Tom and Cliffey went to Varsity to watch the Merseyside derby yesterday, and they were rather too pleased with Everton's 2-0 victory for my liking. However, I do have a trick or two up my sleeve; I've just checked the fantasy football, and as of this morning I'm 25 points ahead of Tom. That's mostly thanks to one Carlos Tevez from Argentina, who grabbed two goals against Blackpool last night, but Leighton Baines getting an assist and a clean sheet can't have hurt, either.

Okay, I've got another depressing Cultures lecture to get to now, and then I'll be heading home to eat some lemony pizza and watch TV. I've not seen the Strictly Come Dancing results show yet, so nobody tell me who left.

By the way, Sarah thinks that Strictly Come Dancing is one of the worst programmes on television, so can everyone please write in to correct her. Thanks.

Hahwon't you take me to...

Joel.

P.S. I've just been checking the viewing figures and I've just gotten my first Slovenian visitor! So hello Slovenian visitor, I hope you feel welcome here. Give my regards to Ljubljana.