I’m currently chomping on a packet of Scampi ‘n’ Lemon Nik Naks.
Some misguided fools hate them, but anyone with any sense can see that they are up there with the greatest of all the (pseudo-)crisps.
I feel very sorry for whoever I share a badminton court with in about 90 minutes’ time. Poor sods!
Scampi ‘n’ Lemon Nik Naks
I’ve now finished the delumptious knobbly little sticks of corn 
Bugger. Got the brush-off from Rachel this morning.
She “didn’t feel that spark” and thinks “it’s too soon for some big new relationship which I’m just not ready for”.
Oh well, nice girl and all that, but I’m not actually all that bothered about it. Which is definitely a good thing.
On the plus side, I ended up sharing a cab home last night (at 2.30am!) with a girl who lives on the next street. She’d just been on a disastrous date, so we shared notes. Seemed nice enough. Walked her to her door and swapped numbers. Might ask if she fancies a swift pint at t’local sometime.
Note for any budding Lotharios - if you’re out on a date and the girl in question comes back to your place, do not (a) show her the damp mouse-infested cellar, or (b) ply her with nasty cheap wine.
It went pretty well. I think.
Now, this was my first proper date, ever. Honest.
I’d NEVER been out with a girl before, without there being a drunken (or not so drunken, on one memorable occasion) snog sometime beforehand. This one was, as mentioned, almost blind (the date, not the girl), so I was just a leetle beet nervous.
I got to Sinclair’s 5 minutes early, looked for Rachel, couldn’t find her, so went to the bar and got a pint. The bitter’s gone up to a whopping £1.30 - it was £1.14 before the bomb!
As I was ordering, two girls came past, one of whom looked as though she could be Rachel but with a haircut. Bear in mind that I’d only met the girl briefly, in a dark nightclub, on a very drunken night out.
Anyway, the girl in question was saying to her friend “…easy to spot. He’ll be wearing glasses, too…” so I made eye contact, getting ready to smile. Nothing. I breathed a sigh of relief - a third party wouldn’t have been a good thing.
So I went and sat outside (and txted Rachel to that effect) - it’d be easier for her to spot me first, and I was still roasting after 40 minutes on The Warmest Bus In The World. She turned up at about 8.05pm, and I did actually recognise her! She turned out to be rather cute, which is something of a relief.
We went inside, and I bought her a G&T. Sat upstairs, and chatted. Rachel got a phone call at 9pm, so I nipped down and got another pint. It looked suspiciously like the “I need an excuse to leave” emergency call…and it was, she admitted a fair bit later.
We then went to Simple In The City for dinner - it’s a little restaurant between The Grinch and Sam’s Chop House. I wasn’t overly impressed, to be honest, but it was okay.
The conversation flowed pretty freely until just after 11pm, when they were closing, so we left and I waited outside M&S with Rachel for her cab. Put arm round her, which seemed to be a good move, and ended up with a quick kiss goodnight before we went our separate ways.
On balance, I think it went well. She was worried (as were her friends, and her mum) that I’d be too Sri Lankan (she’s been stung pretty badly in the past), and I was worried that she’d be hoping I’d be more Sri Lankan than I am (i.e. not very). We were both pretty open with each other, so that was good. However, I probably talked MUCH too much about previous girlfriends
Still, I think we’ll meet again. I’ll drop her an email later…might tell you all about it…or then again, I might not.
So, I’ve finished filming at Howell’s place and returned to Tenby Towers, feeling rather knackered.
Housemate Helen (the smaller) then finds me asleep on the sofa at about 8.30pm. This is not good.
‘Twas Housemate Andrew’s birthday, and he was out celebrating at the Metropolitan, in West Didsbury. So I dragged myself off the sofa, washed the blood out of my hair, and moseyed on down.
Stood around a while in a very silly place to stand - a narrow space between the end of the bar the restaurant, and the exit to the pub’s outsidey bit. I did try to get people to move a bit further into the pub, where there was acres of room, but it wasn’t happening. Just had to put up with being jostled.
Housemate Helen (the taller) turned up eventually, which meant that all the Tenbyites were there except Lynda, who was in Liverpool.
The others were basically ex-Housemate Patricia (Andrew’s girlfriend), her housemates, plus associated boyfriends.
Normal closing time approached, and I sounded people out about moving on. Nothing. On a Friday night. Okay, I accept that some people aren’t particularly hardcore, but that was rubbish.
Both of the Housemates Helen were up for more drinking, as was Simon (bloke of Helen the smaller), though, so the four of us walked to the bus stop. I had two groups of friends out that night - Harry was out for his birthday, in Rock Kitchen, while Paul was up from London to celebrate his birthday in TigerLounge.
Harry was first choice, mainly as I was unaware of it being Paul’s birthday. Unfortunately, I couldn’t contact him to confirm that he was at Rock Kitchen, so we went to TigerLounge instead.
It later transpired that Harry had left his phone in his coat when he checked it into the cloakroom. Bugger.
Got in, after a bit of queueing, and found Mark, Paul, Adam, Luc and Dan boozing away, plus one or two others I don’t know. Think one of them may have been Paul’s brother.
For those who don’t know it, TigerLounge is, well, a bit kitsch. But not in an up-its-own-arse kind of way, thankfully. The atmosphere’s pretty open and friendly, and they give you free sweets!
There’s a decent review here, FWIW.
It’s the sort of place where you’re as likely to hear Dolly Parton as you are The Strokes, with a fair bit of 60s lounge music and the odd TV theme thrown in - the A Team and Monkey Magic never fail to fill the dancefloor!
We drank. We danced. We had a good time.
But here’s the interesting bit. I’m standing at the bar, just behind Helen (the taller) and Adam, waiting to help them carry, when a girl comes up to me.
“Excuse me” she said, “are you Sri Lankan?”
Now, I’m half Sri Lankan (well, technically 3/4, but never mind that), and it shows. I look very Sri Lankan indeed, and often get spotted by Sri Lankans in petrol stations, restaurants, etc.
However, unless I’m wearing my cricket top (a bit of a giveaway), it’s not something that a Caucasian would spot.
In fact, it had happened only once before - at Jo’s party, by a bloke who’d just been on holiday there.
So, I was somewhat surprised to be asked by a cute English girl in a nightclub. It turns out that Rachel (for that be her name) had lived in Colpetty (an area of central Colombo) with her husband, who was a Sri Lankan Muslim. At least, that’s what I think she said - it was very loud in there, and my hearing’s not all that good. I questioned the lack of wedding ring, and I think she said something about divorce.
We chatted (well, shouted into each others’ ears) for a while, during which time I found out that Rachel had done Textiles at UMIST from 1995 to 1999. Those are the same years that I was there, so I reckon we must have a mutual acquaintance or two somewhere. Unfortunately, the UMIST textiles types I know would all have been either the year before or after her.
We went our separate ways. The DJ was clearly in a flippant mood, and was playing things like “I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts”…so I bided my time, waiting for a suitably danceable tune.
Bear in mind here that I’ve never actually gone on the pull in a nightclub.
Unfortunately, Rachel’s group kept moving around - every time I looked up, she was gone.
Finally, her group was right next to mine, and the DJ played a suitably dancey tune…and Housemate Helen (the taller) grabbed me for a close dance. I looked around afterwards, and Rachel was gone. I feared that Helen had ruined my chances.
So, I just continued along in my merry way.
Well, sort of.
A while later, I spot Rachel again - she’d not left! Sure enough, she came over and said that her bunch was leaving…and did I want to swap numbers?
Several txt msgs later (which have been delightfully free of txtspk), and we swapped email addresses and landlines. Cue several emails, and a short conversation.
That was the Friday before last. We both wanted to meet up, but I had a really busy week and was then away for the weekend. She also lives in Prestwich, on the other side of Manchester - remember that I’ve had an awful lot of trouble this year dating girls who lived within a 20 minute walk of me
Anyway, in just over two hours’ time, I’m going to be meeting Rachel in Sinclair’s Oyster Bar. Hopefully.
I know very little about her, but I’ve got a good feeling about things. She could be an axe murderer, for all I know…and it’s nearly Hallowe’en!
Wish me luck!
I’m no good at getting to bed early. Take the weekend before last, for example…
It’s Friday night, I’m absolutely knackered after a hard week, and I’m just about ready for bed at 9pm.
However, I had a busy day planned for Saturday, and needed to prepare a few things first. Those done, I settled down on the sofa, with Housemate Lynda, for a well-deserved beer before bedtime.
A day or two previously, I’d introduced Lynda to the fact that vodka isn’t tasteless. Well, decent vodka, anyway - there are all too many people for whom the very pinnacle of vodka is Smirnoff Red…and the Blue isn’t much better. It’s like those poor misguided souls who actually believe that Budweiser is beer.
But I digress. Before the Budweiser Rage takes me, I shall take a deep breath and continue.
I’d had an open bottle of Żubrówka for a few years*, so I brought it back out (having given Housemates Lynda and Andrew a capful the previous evening) and mixed it with some apple & raspberry juice, adding a good squeeze of lemon as well, and a bit of brown sugar. While not ideal, this is very very tasty.
* No, I don’t know how either.
After the Żubrówka ran out, I introduced some aged Havana Club rum, and found some Coke…plus more lemon and brown sugar.
All in all, we basically sat there, chatting and watching music videos, until Housemate Helen came in at about 3am, with her bloke.
So I went to bed. Only six hours later than planned. Oops.
This one’s one of my favourites.
In a straight glass, put:
Very tasty indeed.
So, Saturday. I woke up, cursed my lack of early-to-bed willpower, packed my stuff into the back of the car, and headed over to Howell’s place, for something completely different.
Howell’s mate Henry does films, with the aid of Howell and a plethora of others. Short, cheap films, under the guise of Foiled Productions - as featured at the previously blogged Foiled Evening. You can download lots of their previous stuff from the website.
Anyway, I got my big break in this one, starring as The Student. I’m not going to give away too much, suffice to say that the day was much fun but very very gruelling. Having a couple of 500W lamps shining in a confined space for most of the day means you’re going to get a bit warm. I even added some real blood to the set, after Antony cracked me one on the head. The things one does for ones art…
Howell’s photos from the days filming are here.
Also notable from that afternoon was the sheer beauty of Tenby Towers.
I live on an avenue lined with lots of mature lime trees (technically lindens). Usually they serve two main purposes:
However, it is beautiful, especially in summer with the dappled light shining through the leaves. In the autumn, for a while, the gold and bronze leaves put the place into a different light as well…until they all fall off, turn to mush, and clog the drains.
While prepping Howell’s flat for filming, it was reckoned that we needed a stepladder, so I drove home to get ours, and was treated to the rare sight of leaves dancing all around the street. Whenever a gust of wind hit the trees, thousands of leaves would float down into the street, whirling and dancing on eddies of air, as though being twirled by invisible strings.
To be honest, I can’t even begin to do it justice, but it really was like something out of Hero, or perhaps Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.
Well, that’s quite enough for now. And I’ve not covered Saturday night yet!
Okay, so I’ve not updated this for aaaages. It’s because I’ve had other stuff to do.
So, I suppose I’d best do a run-down of memorable events in the last couple of weeks…
Not entirely sure why, but I went to SandBar on a Friday night with Alison and her mates. Actually, Pete, Rosy and I all went.
I remember now! Pete, Rosy and I went to watch Serenity, which I keep calling Serendipity. A write-up of which will feature at some point.
Anyway, lots of people were there, including CAOS Liz*, Charlotte** and Jennifer***.
* Liz used to be a hockey goalie, which makes her somewhat deranged. She’s a doctor now, which confirms this.
** Complete with mummy Charlotte, confusingly monikered Alison as well.
*** The youngest Pickering sister, and a complete flirt.
Had drinks, and ended up in ScuBar for more drinks, where we were (eventually) joined by Housemate Lynda and her friend Barbara, from Holland, who Pete pronounced The Quietest Dutch Girl Ever.
Headed home when we got kicked out. As you do. Think that that was the night that Pete and I stopped off at the Canadian Charcoal Pit for burger goodness on the way home.
A couple of Saturdays ago, I ended up going round to Jo’s place, just round the corner in West Didsbury.
I was a bit nervous about this one, as I really don’t know Jo all that well - I’d met her on a handful of occasions, always through Howell. I’d never met her housemates either.
Howell had, however, told me that Jo throws a rather good party, so I was quite looking forward to it. I always like meeting new people, anyway.
I pack two bottles of wine into an oh-so-classy Tesco’s bag and brave the cold for the 10-minute walk. I get to the house, to find balloons on the door and a non-working doorbell. I get ready to knock, and realise that the door is open. Okay. I gingerly open the door and step into the house, popping my head around the living room door and praying that there’d be someone there who recognised me.
There was. Torkjel, whom I’d met once or twice. The “who the hell are you?!” looks were replaced with indifference, and I ventured through to the kitchen in search of Jo.
The party featured lots of people, many of whom didn’t know each other either. I drank wine and had a good time.
I think I spent most of the night talking to Steph and Laura(?). Steph’s one of Jo’s housemates, a vascular scientist, and quite a character. I definitely hope to meet her again sometime. Laura’s an old mate of Steph’s, and (wo)manning a call centre while trying for the RAF, following her Aerospace Eng degree.
Howell turned up eventually, and fell asleep after a while. He does this.
I’m very jealous of Jo’s house, which is lovely. A big old end-terrace, with a back yard leading into something of a secret garden - a little doorway, lined with foliage, that apparently leads into a communal garden with benches and stuff. I say “apparently” because it was dark and cold, so I didn’t fancy exploring. I really should have, though!
Other stuff of note included Julie being shocked that I wasn’t 34. Grrrr to Julie! I know she’s read some of this blog though, so I’ll be careful about what I say about her 
I staggered home at something like 5am, possibly later - by that time, it was just Jo, Steph and Laura dancing to cheesy music with Mark (who lives on the next street) and some of his mates.
Definitely a good party.
Last night was a free Thursday evening. This is a fairly novel thing for me, as I usually have MUGSS rehearsals on Thursday evenings during the student terms.
This being the first year since 1997/8 that I’ve not been in MUGSS, it’s a bit strange. Especially when you’re sitting at home and you know that a bunch of your mates are out drinking.
I didn’t get home until 8.30pm or so, having ferried Pete to Barrington Sports (in Knutsford) and back. Cooked up some dinner, did a mountain of ironing, and spent a rather chilled evening in the company of Housemate Andrew, drinking beer and watching music television.
VH2 pulled an absolute blinder by having a “Top Anthems, 1980-2005″ session, with a pretty decent song for each year. These included:
…and about 15 more, obviously. We didn’t change channel once!
The beers included:
More a gentle session than a night in getting hammered. Andrew and I discovered that we have VERY similar taste in music, which is always a bonus in a housemate.
In bed just after midnight, which counts as early. The MUGSS types would have been happily quaffing in BaaBar.
I’ve definitely been behind on the updates, thanks to the sailing holiday backlog.
Anyway, quick update of the last week or so…
Had Pete, Rosy, Howell, Linden and Kate over for Risk and pizza. Probably best to just see Pete’s blog for a write-up.
Got a very odd look from the checkout girl at Tesco when I rolled up with 6 pizzas, 2 garlic bready things, and very little else. All but one got eaten, though.
Woke up far too early, realised that I had a train to catch, and motored out of the house towards Piccadilly (where I caught my train with minutes to spare) and then Sheffield.
Got there just after 1pm, and walked across town to the Sheffield Beer Festival…where I waited almost one and a half hours for the others (Ed, Andrea, Kate and Rick) to turn up. The good thing about Sheffield is that they always have plenty of nice dark ales…which was nice. Bumped into Rob, one of the CAMRA U30 types, and spotted Gus, another young member. Dropped Verity a txt saying I’d spotted them, and she replied asking whether I’d make Nottingham, her home beerfest. Looks like I can’t, unfortunately. Bugger. She even offered me a comfy sofa.
Anyway, said my goodbyes at 5ish, leaving the others on a pub crawl with the “young members” section. Don’t know how they got on, but it was guaranteed to be drunken.
I, on the other hand, journeyed back across the Pennines, met Alsion, Andrew and Mark, and then headed to Altrincham for Leila’s 21st birthday celebrations. This is when I regretted not having time to iron that shirt before leaving the house - in my jeans and T-shirt, I was somewhat underdressed!
Still, ’twas nice to catch up with people I’d not seen all summer. Some of us formed something of an oldies table - we were in limbo between the shockingly young all-but-teenyboppers and the parental sorts.
The DJ was rather rubbish - he managed to play the usual stream of crowd-pleasers, but he couldn’t mix a track to save his life. I’d never heard the version of Timewarp with a rap in the middle…and I never want to hear it again.
Caught last tram to Manc (01:14), and tried unsuccessfully to get into the Salisbury before getting the bus home.
A fairly lazy day, for a change. Got up, played a bit of tennis with Natalie, then went home and cooked a monster Bolognese for Lynda and I. I’ve only just found out that Housemate Linda is in fact Housemate Lynda. Well, I suppose it’s better than finding that Housemate Andrew becomes Housemate Andrea at weekends…not that this is the case, I must point out
The original plan was for Rosy and I to go and see Howl’s Moving Castle, but he got waylaid by Taekwon-do. In fact he’s pretty sure of grading up to a red belt (one below a black belt), which is nice. By the time he’d left the pub, we’d missed the showing, so Plan B was put into action.
So, I headed over to Rosy and Pete’s place to watch Spirited Away, the last film by the same director. Pete joined us. It was very good, with superb animation and a typically Japanese plot.
Spirited Away
Also checked my Hattrick and Battrick teams, to find two wins! The Hattrick one was paticularly notable, as I’d thrashed one of my main rivals 4-0. Happy days!
Work. Badminton, shooting, shopping, home.
Hockey training. Forgot to call home. Really must do that tonight.
The last Platt Fields hockey session of the year, unfortunately - we just haven’t got enough light any more.
Still, the weather was nice (for October), and we managed 5- or 6-a-side. Headed to Hardy’s afterwards, then home for some scran and over to Jabez for the first Manchester Ceilidh of the (academic) year. Picked up Alsion and Dan on the way, as I was driving. Got told off by Housemate Helen (the smaller) for not telling her about it. Oops!
The ceilidh was MASSIVE, with 280-odd people turning up. There really was no elbow room whatsoever. A fair few complete newbies, plus the usual range of novices, regulars and experts. Ish.
As per usual, I had the pleasure of dancing with lots of lovely girls. It’s all very open, in the “just grab a partner” sense, and I think it was pretty evenly-mixed. It gets to the point where you start recognising people from month to month, which is nice.
One of the dances was marred by a young bloke who insisted that he “knew this one”…and then proceeded to talk all the way through the caller’s instructions, before spending most of the dance trying to chat up his (admittedly very pretty) partner. Didn’t help, especially when he started pushing people around mid-dance. Grrrr.
The two bands of the day got together for the last dance (a massive stripping of the willow), and then played out for 10 minutes or so, while people just danced randomly - Cathy and I were meandering around the floor as fast as we could, and it was like the dodgems! I hope she didn’t sustain too many bruises!
So, got home at 12.30am, having given lifts home to Dan, Alsion, Becky and Carolina (friend of a friend, possibly of a friend, from Krakow). Unfortunately, I had an awful night’s sleep, probably due to the adrenalin rush. Ho hum.
And now I’m here.
