Mahinda’s Little World

Just been checking the referrers to this blog.

Someone managed to find it by Googling for “stag do frilly knickers“. Nice.

It’s a pity they didn’t leave a comment.

This morning marked the end of an era at Tenby Towers.

At approximately 8.15am, Housemate Stuart left, in a taxi, for the train station. His eventual destination, Luxembourg. At time of writing, he should be waiting somewhere in Stansted (I think) airport.

Something like three years ago, I showed this quiet Scottish bloke around our spare room. He said he’d fancy it. We were hoping for a girl, to bring the male:female ration back to 3:2, but by the end of the weekend we had three lads who were interested. The other housemates and I talked it over, and we picked Stuart. The rest is history.

Here he is, in typical post-cider pose:

It’s quite sad, really, when you lose a housemate and friend. In my five years* at Tenby Towers, I’ve seen quite a few people come and go, and it’s (almost) always been a bit of a wrench.

* WOW! I think it’s actaully 5 years to the day since I moved in!

There have been a lot of memories generated during Stubie’s stay at Tenby, including:

• The Christmas dinner where he turned bright red due to excessve Bailey’s.
• The time he went both veggie and teetotal for Lent…despite being an atheist. He kept it going until his 30th. We were all bloody glad when it was over!
• The next Christmas dinner, where he decided to be gay for the evening. As I recall, we went out dressed in complementary red and blue Hawaiian shirts - his Trapper to my Hawkeye . Scarily enough, I even come out as Hawkeye on the “Which M*A*S*H Character Are You?” quiz - GET IN!
• The day he started drinking cider shandies. Yes, cider shandies.
• …and many, many more.

Anyway, Linda’s moving in, and she’s lovely.

So, Friday evening saw a barbecue held in Stubie’s honour. Surprisingly, it was our first house barbecue of the summer…unsurprisingly, the weather wasn’t exactly great. Much alcohol was consumed, and much merriment was had. I met lots of new people, which was nice, and saw some old faces that I’d not seen properly for ages.

Was very impressed with Dr. Kate’s philosophy of turning up with full pint glass - I suppose a girl can get pretty damn thirsty during the 35 second walk from her house to ours:

Even the homemade burgers turned out popular. There’s been no poisoning reported…yet.

At about midnight, the handful of us left ended up heading to 42nd Street, to join an earlier bunch who’d already left. Stuart, Dimitri, Natalie, Linda and I got there and found Susan, Helen, Carrie and Craig pretty quickly, then hit quite possibly the slipperiest dancefloor in the world, ever. Much cheesy indie goodness ensued, and I think most of us managed to fall on our arses at some point - I certainly did.

Kicking out time, and it was back to ours for drinking, drunken conversation and leftover burgers. Well, Helen professed to being a Budweiser drinker…it got a bit heated, to be honest. Saying things like that around me is akin to lighting the blue touchpaper. With a flamethrower.

Here’s Craig (NOT Stubie’s brother, no matter what he said) together with the garrulous Helen (middle) and the soon-to-move-in Linda (right):

Apologies for poor picture quality - it’s all with my phone, sans flash.