Mahinda’s Little World

So…what’s new with me?

Shooting on Monday, as per usual. Shot two competition cards, for the Wirral individual comp. Definitely hard work, as I was a bit short of sleep - the first was card a very disappointing 93, but the second was a 98, and a "good" 98 at that, where the bulls were dead-centre and the nines were only just out.

Popped into the Red Lion afterwards, where Pete, Sarah, Rosy, Adrian and Emma were doing the quiz. We got free chilli! It was decent stuff, too. Did horrendously in the quiz, though.

Didn’t go to hockey training yesterday evening, as my dodgy left knee has been hurting. Instead, I ended up watching two episodes of Doctor Who, which was nice - I’ve hardly seen any of the new ones, despite wanting very much to.

So, my reality hasn’t been very exciting, really.

My dream world, however, seems to have gone a bit David Lynch. Only a bit, as I’m not quite that strange, but definitely stranger than usual.

A couple of nights after the (already posted) dream about the cat, I had a considerably more disturbing dream…

[cue visual "fade to dream sequence" effect]

It was the day before my wedding. Surprising, as I’m certainly not after marriage right now, and it’s not something that’ll happen in the foreseeable future!

Ian was Best Man. This isn’t all that surprising.

However, The Bride was…actually, I’m not going to tell you that. It was definitely a surprise choice by my subconscious mind though, as the girl in question is someone I’ve never even fancied in the least, let alone thought about in relationship terms, and I certainly wouldn’t want to marry her. Nice girl, but no.

Most odd, and I have no idea why it was her.

Anyway, the day started with some sort of Catholic blessing ceremony. There were nuns involved. The Bride is certainly not Catholic, and neither am I. Lots of her friends and family were there. I’m pretty sure they’re not Catholic, either.

This is when I realised that I’d not told anybody about it - I hadn’t even mentioned it to friends and family, never mind actually inviting anyone.

And the wedding was to be the very next day. In Belfast I think, although it might have been Dublin. Again, I have no idea why - neither me nor The Bride has any Irish connections.

Cut to some big concrete building, by a river/canal/etc., with lots of shiny blue lights. I think it may have been in Manchester. It’s the evening before my wedding day, and the only two from the wedding party are Ian and me. Lots of my friends are also there, so I decide to try and get them along, last minute.

For some reason Jon D gets a large cameo (if that’s not an oxymoron). He and Liz (his girlfriend) were sitting beside me.

Just before Ian and I start telling everyone about the wedding (and I phone my parents to tell them), I wake up.

I awoke feeling very confused indeed, wondering what I was to do, it being the day of my wedding. It took me a good few seconds to establish that I was in my old bedroom (at the folks’ place) and wasn’t getting hitched any time soon. To say I was quite relieved is a bit of an understatement.

[reverse fades back into real world]

All very bizarre. I’m slightly worried that my subconscious mind seems to be thinking about marriage. Despite the plethora of weddings that I’ve attended, I think that’s the first time I’ve dreamt about my wedding

You know, it’s odd. I never really quite feel as…alone…as I do when I’m with my family.

Maybe it’s because I’m so different from the rest of them?
We’re a disparate bunch anyway, with three completely different accents. My parents both have a touch of "generic Asian" in their English, as expected really, while Little Sis is very much St. Albans / North London. I’m a bit more well-spoken, I know, but with increasing levels of Mancunian burr.

Personality-wise, there’s a huge clash. My mother and I are much more easy-going (although she’s becoming distressingly jumpy and nervous as the years roll on), while my sister and father are combustible to the extreme - both of them are liable to go off at any tiny thing. Amandhi’s also quite definitely of the generation after mine - the true Playstation generation, capable of sounding like extras from Clueless at any given moment, for whom the silliness of Animaniacs replaced the all-encompassing plotlines of those Mysterious Cities of Gold.

With any two of us together, things are somewhere between fine and bearable. However, make that three - any three - and the sparks fly. Four, and it just gets silly.

So, I tend to spend any time with my family desperately trying to get away from them. The fact that this is the case only serves to make me more depressed about it all.

Anyone I’ve ever lived with (or gone out with, the poor sods) will have seen me slump on to the sofa after the weekly phone call home, emotionally drained and often absolutely livid. This would inevitably be followed by a physical need for something wet and alcoholic.

They just bring out the worst in me, making me irritable and bad-tempered - a side of me that most of my friends rarely see, and that I don’t like at all.

Guess who I visited this weekend!

Yet another eventful weekend for me, but somewhat bittersweet…

notloB

Friday night meant beer night. I went down to the Lass O’Gowrie for "pie and pint" (one of the Food & Drink Festival things) with Howell, Phil, Si and Barney…plus CAMRA Matt, who turned out to have gone there after work. Definitely handy for getting a table in the snug

I had the game pie, which comprised quail, pheasant, snipe and something else. Lovely, but of course not as nice as the venison pie at Marble.

Then, Howell, Phil and I headed to Oxford Road to catch a train to Bolton, for the Bolton Beer Festival. It was absolutely rammed, with barely even standing room. Still, all went smoothly…for the first few minutes, at least. Then the train stopped.

And waited. It was to be a pretty stop-start journey, which eventually lasted an hour. It should only have been 15 minutes!

We pulled into Bolton station…to be greeted by some of the local fauna, off into Manc for a night out. Strewth, but the Bolton lasses must get a bit chilly!

While I do know some lovely girls from Bolton, much on display was, well, mutton dressed as mutton. Including one girl who seemed to be wearing a scrap of fabric half-inched from her mother’s curtains.

Following directions from John (A Local), we began the long walk to the Howcroft Inn, where the festival was at. Some 20 minutes later (at least - it seemed like hours!) we got there. The pub itself is a pretty big affair, a bit out of the city centre…the fest was set up in a HUGE marquee out back…probably 50m a side…and absolutely rammed. We found John (one of Howell and Phil’s hiking mates) in the queue, and in we went after a bit of a wait.

It claims to be one of the biggest non-CAMRA beer festivals in the country…and the website promised HUNDREDS of beers! We weren’t disappointed, with one side of the marquee taken up by four rows of casks, stacked pretty closely. Lots of dark beers, which always makes me happy, and I sampled quite a few of them.

Fletch, general denizen of North Manc CAMRA, was in charge of the beer, which is always encouraging, and I bumped into Ruth as well, who ran round the bar to give me a hug before running back to give me a somewhat generous half.

The differences between Bolton and your average CAMRA fest were mostly small - things like all the sponsorship, much of which was from local companies. Most of the beers were sponsored, for example

We left shortly before closing time (midnight) to get back to the station for the 00:16 train. Much quieter than the train there, and we got back to MancLand without much fuss.

Unlike Howell and Phil, I resisted the charms of Jilly’s, as I was knackered and needed my bed. As it turns out, I fell asleep on the bus, waking up at the wrong end of Northenden. Bugger. Grabbed a tray of donner meat and chips and staggered home tiredly, eventually managing to hail a cab.

Hockey

Saturday afternoon featured a hockey match, away at Bramhall, at what turned out to be my mate Ross’s old school. I was playing in central defence for the first time in ages, and it just didn’t work out. I had a shocker in the first ten minutes - couldn’t stop a bus, never mind a ball, and I took a free hit which actually travelled less than three yards. Fortunately, I improved, and we were 0-0 at halftime. Unfortunately, things then went completely to pot, and we lost 5-1.

I was Not Happy.

Holker Mansions

Got home from hockey, and dashed frantically around the kitchen making some nibbles for the party. Spicy marinated chicken and red onion on cocktail sticks…put them under a high grill (with Gillian within smoke-smelling distance) and ran upstairs to get changed.

Cycled over to the party, which was to celebrate two things - the birth of Andrew James Holker, and the official opening of the new extension and patio. Andrew James proved to be, like his elder sister Charlotte, a very happy and contented baby, while the extension is an impressive addition to an already large house. The patio’s nice too, with an impressive three-dimensional design.

It was lovely to see a few people whom I’d not seen for ages - the likes of Leda and Helen T especially. Spent quite a while talking to Becky, a rather cute friend of Helen’s…and then Alsion appeared!

This was quite a surprise, seeing that she now lives in Edinburgh. I knew that she was down in the area for her dad’s birthday (her family are Boltonian), but really didn’t expect to see her! It was a lovely surprise.

Eventually I had to tear myself away from the lovely Becky and cycle home, to get ready for Will’s birthday party.

Y’arrrrrrrrr! (yes, again)

Got home, and turned my room upside down looking for piratical gear - Will was having a "Pirates of the Caribbean" themed party. Didn’t find much, bar a stripey T-shirt and cardboard hats, but managed to stick piratical labels on my beer bottles.

Alsion arrived, dumped her stuff, and off we went in her car.

Got to the party…via an attempt to drive up an alleyway that was only foiled by the bollards at its end…some top reversing by Alsion followed.

No-one expected to see Alsion, which was fun. It was a good party, with plenty of MUGSS and lots of randoms to talk to. I ended up hanging around the kitchen (where else?!) talking to Will’s student "Model UN" (I think) mates. He’s of a political bent, and a law student to boot. Actually, he’s also from the much-accursed Merchant Taylors’ School - I went to Haberdashers’ Aske’s, which of course makes us deadly rivals, with rivalries between the two guilds going back to the 14th century

Naturally, I wished him a happy birthday and threatened to skewer him with a cutlass.

Alsion and I ended up last out, as we’re hardcore, and we got a cab home (obviously, neither of us was in a fit state to drive). Got home around 4am, crashed out, and that was that.

Morning

Didn’t really happen.

Afternoon

Got up, got showered, and fed Alsion Marmite on toast. Cut into triangles, naturally, as that’s The Rule.

Ferried her back to her car, then went back to my place. My plan was to grab my bike and cycle to Kro2, where we were meeting other people. Ended up deciding that I was running late, and clearly wasn’t going to drink anyway, so drove instead.

I could hardly talk. I’d made the mistake of staying in character for much of Will’s party, with every couple of sentences featuring a piratical throaty growl. Needless to say, the back of my throat was well and truly shagged.

Had an orange juice and lemonade in Kro2, hugged Alsion goodbye, and ended up in a curry café - Marhaba, on Back Piccadilly - for lunch. Rice-and-three, of course, and mighty tasty it was too.

Curry cafés. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again - they’re great! There’s precious little about them online, and I’ve only actually tried five of them myself, but you’re unlikely to find anything tastier and more filling for £3.50.

See this guide if you’re curious. Fittingly, it’s a real ale type who came up with it. One day, I’ll try and verify it all personally, mark things on a map, and perhaps publish a bunch of MultiMap links.

Anyway, feeling absolutely stuffed, I wandered back home and went to bed for a few hours, eventually emerging for Match of the Day 2 and Extras before heading back again.

I had a dream last night. It featured a rather fun cat. It was a deep black moggy, quite large, and with a sense of fun. It’d pounce playfully on my hand but not bite or scratch or do anything nasty.

I think it was at my parents’ house.

I don’t own a cat, and neither does my immediate family. None of us has ever owned a cat, in fact.

I didn’t see any cats yesterday, or talk about cats.

So why am I dreaming about a cat? Dreaming about a tasty stir-fry stir-fry, I could understand, as at least I made one of those last night (and am chomping through deliciously black-beany beefy leftovers right now)…but a cat?!

Probably something deep and meaningful. I’ll tell you if the cat comes back.

As some of my more astute readers will have noticed, the whole Platt Fields Summer hockey thing has come to an end for the year - too wet, too cold and too dark, basically.

As an end of season shindig, I organised a trip, yesterday evening, to the Marble Brewery. I think there were 22 of us in the end, which was nice.

We started off in Sinclair’s Oyster Bar for a quick pint and meet, at 6pm - I arrived at 6.25pm and almost everyone was already there! Makes a change from the usual - I suppose my continual "7pm start at Marble" reminders must have worked!

Then, it was off to the Marble Arch, which is the great little pub in which the brewery is based. For those who don’t know it, it’s a fantastic old Victorian building - standing on its own, with pristine tiling outside and in. Oh, and a sloping floor, which is always a danger.

We were split into two groups, as it really is quite a small place. The first group ate while the second were shown round.

Food

Well, it was pretty damn good. With the exception of Pete’s fish ‘n’ chips (which was okay but nowt’ special), everyone was very happy with their feed. We even convinced them to serve us dessert - in the case of the second group, half an hour after the kitchen closed!

I had the venison pie:

Marble Venison Pie
A venison pie made using spring onion, potato and celery in a rich stock of venison and stout, served with potatoes and roasted vegetables. 

Mmmm. Tim, the chef, was a top bloke and served up some top scran. It was pretty cheap, too - a tenner covered you for hugely filling tasty main and a sumptuous dessert, in my case:

Apple and Caramel Crunch
Heavenly delicious apple and caramel crumble, drizzled with caramel toffee. Served with ice cream.

Bloody gorgeous!

Tour

The two assistant brewers gave us the tour - Colin and…I have no recollection of what the other chap’s name was. Both fairly young, as in under 30, and very enthusiastic.

Marble is a tiny microbrewery - you won’t find many smaller commercial setups, in fact, so they have to brew pretty much every day to meet demand. There just isn’t that much room in the back room and cellars of an old Victorian pub, really - with the dozen of us in there, there was barely room to move.

They showed off the usual array of vessels, pipes and hoses, and the new "bottling plant" - basically, a manual one-at-a-time bottle steriliser, drying rack, and four-nozzle filler. NASA it ain’t…but that’s how they like it, in a way.

Beer

When I walked in and saw something like ten handpumps on the bar, I rubbed my hands with glee. Unfortunately, it emerged that THEY WERE ALL SODDING LIGHT ALES. RUBBISH!

Ten beers and the darkest was the Manchester Bitter, which is about the same colour as John Smith’s. Much nicer, though, but still not really what turns me on. I’d been looking forward to some Chocolate Heavy, but they didn’t have any on

A conversation with the-lad-whose-name-I-cannot-remember revealed that it’s the head brewer’s preference - he likes IPAs and summer ales, and that’s pretty much what they brew as a result.

RUBBISH!

Anyway, come 9.30pm a few of us were craving some nice malty pints, so I made an executive decision and ushered people towards Bar Fringe.

Bar Fringe

Went in, to find some Boggart Hole Clough Noir on the bar. Not something I’d had before, but it was mighty dark and mighty tasty. Housemate Gillian seemed to like it too. I also had a half of Liefmann’s Kriek - just because, in Bar Fringe, I always do!

I bumped into Tim, Kim, Dave and the remnants of that night’s CAMRA U30 cider crawl. Mucky stuff, and that’s putting it nicely

People started drifting away home, and I just missed last orders, so a group of us headed off towards Bar Centro on Tib Street…

The Fabulous Caféteria

…which was closed. Off to Fab, then!

Pete, Rosy, Gillian, Si, Andy and I ended up in Fab, as all that was left of the original 22-or-so. I guess the rich food had taken its toll.

They had a very nice pint of Adnam’s Broadside on, which did me just about nicely.

We sat and drank, and played random card games. One notable one between Pete and I was a hand of poker (five card draw, I think), with completely made-up money…we ended up all in with at least three thousand made up Pounds apiece…Pete triumphantly showed a flush…and then I trumped him with a full house, 7s over Aces! The chances of that are absolutely ludicrously tiny!

Anyway, rummy ended up the game of choice, then matching pairs, until Si spilt much beer over the deck. And then we left.

The Bus Home

I’m not going to say much about this one, except that there’s some random student somewhere in Fallowfield with a picture of my right nipple on his phone. I’m not entirely sure how or why, either.

Got home, then Gillian, Andy (who was crashing over) and I had some pizza before collapsing into bed. Phew!

Last weekend was, well, eventful. I’d decided to say in Manchestie for a bit of a rest - that’s not to say that I was going to stay in and be especially good, of course…

Painy

Drinks in Red Lion with Housemates Gillian and Paul, Gillian’s mate Erica (who has a thing developing with Paul), plus Pete, Sarah, Rosy and Jenny, then home for pizza, port and music television.

I Went to bed at a respectable 1am, but that’s where my troubles started. I ended up awake until 6/7am with really really painful stomach aches/cramps.

Achey

Knackered. My first hockey match of the season. Ran around lots and lots - had to be substituted for 5 minutes as I was cramping up, but recovered and went back on to run around more. It was a pretty exciting match, with lots of end-to-end play and a scoreline that went 1-0…1-1…2-1…2-2…3-2…3-3. Their first goal was definitely my fault, as I didn’t react to our goalkeeper’s call, while their third should never have been allowed.

People were generally chuffed with my performance, which is always good. I’m still not quite sure why, though - at the end of the day, I’m a defender who’s not all that good positionally or in the tackle

Went home, aching quite a bit. Stayed sitting on sofa watching telly and relaxing for ages, as I just couldn’t face moving.

Eventually went out to meet Linden and the gang in Font. My aching body REALLY didn’t want to go. Finally got to meet Housemate Gillian’s friend Emma, about whom I’d heard loads. Seems like a nice girl, albeit one with a rather mischievious glint in her eye.

We eventually went on to TriBeCa to join Rossko and his mates…met Vicky the saxophonist, whose birthday it was.

MUGSS types (Rosy, Mia, Leila, Gesine) popped over en-route to BaaBar. I later tried to get into BaaBar and say hello to the MUGSS lot…but wasn’t allowed in without a student card. So, MUGSS bunch came over to join us in TriBeCa instead. Which was nice. Ended up there until kicking-out time, when I got a bus home.

Fell asleep on bus, waking up just after Northenden. Oops. Just as well, really, as the bus was going to Sale. Grabbed tray of donner meat and chips, and found a cab to take me home as I just couldn’t walk any more.

Appleton-y

Woke up at 9am (aaargh!) as I had a day of shooting planned.

Got to the rifle club at 10.15am, to meet Pete and grab shooting equipment, e.g. mats and ’scopes, as well as my rifle. I really should name it, in true redneck fashion. Maybe something like ‘Betsy’ or ‘Petunia’…

I eventually made it to Appleton Rifle Club. It’s an absolutely gorgeous outdoor rifle range, in the middle of a deep quarry. Impressive. The drive in, down a slope flanked by rapidly rising sheer walls, was all a bit Tolkien.

The two ranges we used, the main 100yd and 50yd efforts, were both bordered by 6-storey high cliffs, themselves covered in creepers and rhododendrons. Some of the stone showed the scars of heavy artillery - Gatling gun (I think) training was given there back in the war years. I didn’t see it, but there’s also an elite 50m range where some of the Olympic squad train.

The annual day out at Appleton is a club tradition, and about a dozen or so were there from Wilmslow. There were a few Appleton types hanging around too, notably a chap called Mike Babb, who’s the current Commonwealth 50m Prone champion and came 7th at the last Olympics. He was happily practising a few yards from us, with the most gorgeous rifle I’ve ever seen!

So, first up, the 100yd competition. Sighter, then 10 shots into each of two targets. First time I’d ever shot smallbore outdoors - my only previous experience of outdoor shooting had been a trip to Bisley to shoot fullbore at 200yds…and that was in 1996! I thought I did pretty well, considering - I scored 92/100 on both targets.

Next up was the 50yd contest - sighter, then 5 shots into each of four targets. I was fairly chuffed with my effort, scoring 49(/50), 46, 49 and 47.

After that, a pair of novelty cards - a "lucky numbers" target and a "treasure island" one featuring five islands that you couldn’t see at all from 50 yards. I did pretty badly at these, especially the latter.

Then we had a barbecue, before rounding the day off with a clay disc competition - two pairs of shooters would line up against each other and attempt to shoot a number of 3cm (roughly) white clay discs (against a black background) as quickly as possible. Mike and I were knocked out in the first round by Clare and Dennis, who themselves ended up being beaten by Pete and Jon in the final.

Clare generally got a bit mollycoddled all day, in fact - young female shooters are in short supply, and she generally gets mothered by the oldies.

Glory

Finally, the scores were totted up and the prizes given…I won two out of the four competitions! The 100yd shoot and the overall aggregate score (100yd, 50yd and novelty all added up) - I must have done pretty well in the 50yd to win the aggregate comp.

So, I got given a big shiny rose bowl sort of trophy. It’s very shiny!

Unfortunately, the shield for the 100yd comp has gone missing, but I did get two rather fine bottles of wine for my efforts.

All in all, a grand day out. And definitely good for my ego

It’s amazing how, sometimes, you’re caught utterly unawares by some information about something that you feel you should know more about.

In this case, the city that has been my home for the last eleven years. Manchester. While surfing this lunchtime, I came across this Wikipedia article on the place - it makes an interesting read.

I’m in pain. Specifically, the muscles that move my arms hurt. You know, the ones on your sides just below your armpits. Well, they hurt. Particularly the one that’s just under and behind my right armpit.

Why?

Well, first up was hockey training on Tuesday evening. One of our drills was a sort of 3 defenders vs. 3 attackers affair - if one of the sides got it wrong, they had to do 10 press-ups. Predictably, my side (we rotated) got it wrong many many times - 8 or 9, I think. That equates to a lot of press-ups.

Now, I’m not exactly light, and neither do I do press-ups often. If ever. So it’s no surprise that I hurt quite a bit on Wednesday.

Wednesday evening featured the first Jabez ceilidh of the new student term. And guess what? There was a very long dance that involved a basket. Too long. Too many baskets. A basket is where two couples stand in a circle (technically a "square"), put arms around each other, and then spin. This translates to the blokes supporting the girlies while they’re lifted off the ground.

Not that either partner (I was dancing with Ceilidh Cat, who’s certainly been mentioned on these pages before) was exactly heavy - I guess it was just because I was hurting anyway.

The upshot of all this is that I hurt. Lots. Did I mention that?

A relaxed night in tonight, nothing planned for tomorrow, and then my first hockey match of the season on Saturday. Hopefully I’ll have healed. I’ve got a shooting competition / day out at Appleton Rifle Club on Sunday - hopefully the muscular stuff won’t completely ruin my shooting position

Last weekend proved to be a bit of a monster…

Sheffield Beer Festival

This one’s a bit of a regular get-together for my vaguely ex-uni CAMRA mates, e.g. Dave, Tom, Katy, Ed and Andrea.

This year, it handily fell on Dave’s birthday…so I just had to pop along on the Friday night. I was originally going to wimp out (see rest of weekend, below)…until I found out that the last train back from The Sheff was the 00:13 - GENIUS!

Katy and Rick kindly offered me a lift from work to Sheffield, and a very handy lift it was too, as I was knackered. We eventually found the Novotel (where they were staying) and got a taxi to the festival, which was at its regular home of St. Phillips Social Club, on Netherthorpe Road I believe.

So, the Sheffield Beer Festival. We got in, the bloke on the door telling me that students and CAMRA got discounts…I told him that I certainly wasn’t a student, and he replied that I should bloody well sign up for CAMRA then. I decided against pointing out that I’ve been a member since the 2000 Sheffield fest.

Anyway, we collect our glasses and programmes, and I head straight towards the tokens stand. It wasn’t until that I heard Rick and Katy shouting "Mahinda, you’re famous!" behind me that I realised that something was amiss - my picture was only on the front cover of the programme!

You know you’re an alcoholic when…

It’s a pic that Rob (Sheffield branch stalwart) had taken of me and Verity, in the beer garden of Bar Fringe, after the 2005 Winter Ales Fest in MancLand. I look very very drunk (because I was), and the picture had been expanded to fit…making me look fat as well.

Much beer was had, with Acorn Darkness, Thornbridge St. Petersburg Imperial Stout being the two stand-outs. I had a nice half of Sarah Hughes Dark Ruby Mild too, for old time’s sake.

It being Wee Dave’s birthday (he turned up a bit after us with Kate, his girlfriend - the others were due on Saturday, unfortunately), Katy and I did the now-traditional "buy Dave some nasty cider".

This time, we got him this concoction:

1. Take one (1) pint pot.
2. Fill roughly a third-full of sweet cider.
3. Add a third pint of medium/strong cider.
4. Top up with the nastiest, driest, strongest, most evil cider you can find. In this case, very nasty, very dry and very evil

He drank it, and was looking a bit green afterwards!

We got in touch with Tom and Amy, who were in the Fat Cat, a rather fine establishment, and walked over to join them…only to find that they’d just left. Bugger. Unfortunately, it was absolutely jam-packed, so we adjourned to the Kelham Island Tavern, just around the corner (literally) for a couple of very tasty beers.

Unfortunately, it was then time for me to be off, so Rick, Katy and I hopped in a cab bound for the city centre, where I was dropped off at the train station.

The journey home was lightened by a girl called Sally, with whom I got talking while waiting for the train. She was (and is) a 2nd year student in Sheffield, going out with a 1st year at Manc…who hadn’t discovered how to get between Grosvenor halls and Piccadilly train station. I left her waiting in the foyer…hope he found her!

Yet Another Wedding

Awoke far too early on Saturday morning, as it was the day of Becky and Paul’s wedding.

Jon Hunter picked me up and ferried me (along with Ros and Ciaran) to Wilmslow, for what turned out to be a good long Catholic service in a lovely little church.

It was nice to see some people I’d not seen in a while, especially Pete and Wendy, whose wedding I’d missed in late August. After the usual "are we with the bride or groom?" discussion, we plumped for the side that looked emptier…but then filled up. Hope Becky wasn’t too miffed.

After the ceremony, it was off out to a big country hall in the wilds of deepest darkest Cheshire for the reception. Once we’d negotiated the windy lanes and sheep-related delays, that is.

Becky in a Big White Dress. Well, ivory, but close enough. If I’d had to vote for "girl least likely to be seen in a Big White Dress", she’d been on my shortlist! She looked fabulous in it, though.

The reception was fun. We MUGSS types pretty much had two tables to ourselves - well, it was two tables to ourselves, as the one interloper didn’t turn up to the reception. Odd, actually - it’s a girl called Sarah who used to live with Becky, and whom I’d met at a few parties. She was at the church, but I didn’t get the chance to say hello.

So, much banter, much drink, and a very tasty meal. I ended up sitting between Tall Sarah and Gill (who supplied the photos), which was nice.

I organised a sweepstake for the length of the Best Man’s speech. Common wisdom suggests 8-10 minutes, and we had guesses between 5:41 and 12:34. I came in at something like 9:20..only to be severely wrong as the speech came in at a paltry 5 minutes and 20 seconds. Rubbish!

Decent speech, mind, just a tad short.

Next up, the post-dinner ceilidh, featuring Isabella and I stripping the willow with enthusiasm bordering on the violent. Much fun.

And then home, courtesy of the HunterBus again.

UPDATE: Many many more photos available on Jon "Camera Whore" Hunter’s site.

Cocktails

It’s 12:40am, you’ve just got home from a wedding, a bit drunk, so what do you do?

That’s right - go to a house party

In this case, Jo’s cocktail party, full of MADwalker types. I’d found Housemates Gillian and Paul in our living room, up drinking with Erica, a friend of Gillian, and convinced them that they should come along too.

As usual, the party was ace - Jo puts on SERIOUSLY good parties - with vast quantities of random alcohol. A few random connections, too, as Gillian found Andy B (one of the walkers), who actually turns out to be a high-ranking type at her workplace.

We drank and talked and danced until 5.30am (4am in the case of Paul and Erica). Top stuff!

When Gillian and I left, I think it was down to about half a dozen revellers. I really must do something about my inability to leave parties.

Walked home, where Gillian fed me some leftovers - cold Yorkshire pud (it had been the "hole" to accompany a batch of "toads") dipped into cold Bisto gravy. Perfect!

Big Chimp

9.30am. Dragged myself out of bed, after less than three hours’ sleep.

10.10am. Left house to pick up Jo and Ed.

10.40am. Got to Knott Bar, where we were all meeting to film some scenes for Big Chimp.

Big Chimp. Another Foiled Productions film. I honestly have no idea of the overall plot, except that it’s a King Kong spoof. Complete with Barney the Dinosaur and Big Chimpess.

The last (and only) Foiled film I’d previously experienced first-hand was The Sinister Dr. Stone - I blogged a summary of the day here.

Anyway, we were all being "pedestrian" extras - running around in Castlefield screaming, basically, while Henry pointed a camera at us. I got to fall down some steps too, which was nice.

Howell, Henry and the main cast had been there since silly o’clock - fortunately, those that had been at the party had left good and early. Having heard so much about the project for the last month (I was kept in the loop for casting, props, etc.), it was great to finally see people in costume.

Eventually, Henry decreed that there’d been enough running around, and had got all the close-ups he needed. Lunch!

We headed over to Dimitri’s for tapas, somewhat groggy-headed in my case. Unfortunately, general confusion reigned, and it was decided that those of us needed for the afternoon’s filming wouldn’t have time.

So, I organised pizzas and headed off, with Jo and Sarah, towards the bright lights of Withington and West Didsbury. We were being act audition panellists, in much the same style as Simon Cowell and his X-Factor cohorts.

I dropped the girls off to get changed, ordered a large stack of pizza, got changed myself, picked up the girls and pizza, and eventually got over the theatre without being too late.

We were filming the theatre scenes at the Cheadle Hulme Amateur Dramatics Society (CHADS) theatre - a lovely little (150 or so seats) theatre out in deepest darkest Cheadle. Looks like an old theatre that had had its auditorium and general front bits done up nicely…much like a considerably smaller version of the Alty Garrick.

My hangover was really starting to kick in by this point, while Jo was very broken indeed - as expected really because, as last night’s party hostess, she would have been up even later than me!

I won’t spoil it for you and tell you what happens. Suffice to say that it should be quite a fun little film.

Any film that lists "Bat Wrangler" as one of its crew MUST be good

All very different from Dr. Stone, which was a one-room (Howell’s living room, in fact) affair, featuring lots of close-up indoor shooting, re-shooting scenes from different angles, etc. This was mostly outdoor, and generally one-scene-one-camera-angle. It seemed less technical, but then it’s an all-action romp rather than a sinister and atmospheric tale.

We eventually finished around 3/4pm, so I finally got to go home and sleep. Phew!

 

I really am forever behind with this thing. Maybe it’s because I’m just no good at summarising things? Probably.

Camping in the Rain

Last weekend (well, the one before last) saw me going camping with Sarah M. Yes, as in Sarah-the-Ex.

Some viewed this move as simply mental, and I can see their point. The thing is, I tend not to end up with the average ex-girlfriend relationship. If you see what I mean.

Anyway, we were going to head up to Masham (pronounced "Massam") in Yorkshire. The plan was to visit a brewery and get some walking in…

• Friday
  It rained. And rained. Got there; found the Black Sheep Brewery; had a lovely lunch there; did the tour; found campsite; pitched tent; got soaked; went to Harrogate; saw Children of Men at the Odeon; came back; slept in a rather soggy tent.
• Saturday
  No rain in the morning, but loads of mist. 50-200 yards visibility. Found start of walk; started walking without being able to see much; eventually had a delicious pub lunch; skies cleared; walked back in sunshine; headed back; had a snooze; went to York for a ghost walk; back to Masham; missed last orders; grumped; went to bed; it started raining really hard.
• Sunday
  Awoke to find a drip on the inside of the tent - fortunately, the duvet had soaked up most of the water, and it was close enough to waking-up time. It was absolutely pelting it down. Packed up; went to White Bear for a pint of Old Peculier, only to find that it wasn’t open; drove back to a sunny (!) MancLand; had a curry lunch at This ‘n’ That; Sarah left; I chilled out at home; parents came round to swap cars (long story).

I may or may not write more at a later date.

Monday

Shooting. Did okay. Committee meeting. We need a new fence. Anyone got a spare couple of grand?

Tuesday

Missed hockey practice, which was naughty. Went out for a Turkish meal in town with work, at Café Istanbul in the city centre. It was nice enough, especially when you consider that I paid a whopping £2.50 for the privilege. However, I wasn’t all that impressed with the main meal:

Spit roasted lamb doner kebab
Thin slices of spit roasted lamb, lightly spiced to our own tasty recipe. Served with Istanbul rice & mixed salad.

I was curious to find out what classy don(n)er meat was like. Nice enough, but really not much better than the stuff found at a decent kebab house. The hot sauce was particularly laughable.

In summary, nice enough (some of the non-donner dishes looked better), but I wouldn’t pay full price for it. Some of our table were pretty impressed, but they’re probably not kebab aficionados like wot I am.

Lots of streets were closed off due to the Labour party conference - I cycled in, and got a bit confused by the signs. "Pass holders and buses only" they proclaimed - I didn’t have a pass, and certainly wasn’t a bus! The police weren’t fussed - I guess that they weren’t really expecting the world’s first bicycle bomber

We spotted various suits walking past, notably Jack Straw. Our HR woman gave him a dirty look.

After the meal, Andrew P and I headed over to the Ape and Apple for a few drinks. As a Holt’s pub, it’s very cheap indeed - £3.50 for two bottles of tasty ale! Top marks for nice barmaids, too - I got chatting to one, and it turns out that the Labour types had been in the day before for canapés and the like. A bunch of ponces, apparently.

Cycled home.

Wednesday

The very last Platt Fields Hockey session of the summer. Fittingly, the grass was long and the weather was damp…a Manchester drizzle rather than proper rain, fortunately.

I think it was more-or-less 5-a-side, and my bunch got absolutely slaughtered by Si’s, thanks to some rather profligate finishing from yours truly.

We played until almost 8pm, when it was too dark to actually see the ground - I’d taken my glow-in-the-dark ball, which cunningly uses translucent plastic and a glowstick. It rocks! Pretty much all we could see at the end was a bright yellow thing whizzing around, and the vague silhouettes of the players.

Thursday

Fire!

Met up with Howell, Jo and the MADwalkers in Hardy’s Well, and moseyed on to Platt Fields for the Carabosse Installation de Feu - basically, they’d transformed a section of the park into a fire garden, with loads of flaming pots, illuminated lanterns made from vests (no, really) and so on. See that link for more details and pictures - they’re brilliant!

Amongst the MADwalkers was a chap called Arthur - seeing him gave me quite a shock, as I’d first met him at Roger’s stag do. He’s one of Roger’s mates from back home (Ballymena, NI), and the stag do was the one where we all hired fast cars and drove at reckless speeds to and around the Isle of Skye. Arthur had a Saab 93 Aero (his own, in fact), and a selection of easy listening CDs. Nice.

Howell, Jo, Sarah, Ed and I discussed stuff for Big Chimp - the filming of which was to take place that weekend. More about that one later!

We ended up in the Friendship for a drink or two afterwards, then it was back home for me.