Mahinda’s Little World

The second instalment of last Saturday’s shenanigans. Not that they were particularly shenanigansy, of course…

The MUGSS Do

As usual, the works do clashed with the MUGSS Christmas Ball. As with last year, I had a cunning plan. This year, however, it worked. The few of us still there were kicked out of Old Trafford at 1am, so I meandered over to the tram stop and (eventually) caught a tram into town. Then, it was straight over to Emma, Mia and Jen’s flat for the MUGSS afterparty. Sorted.

Talked to lots of people, including a few new ones - Jen(?), who played lots of hockey at school, Sarah B, and the fantastically-named Tasoula, who I’ll forever now know as "Talicious".

The traditional* game of I Have Never was played, and those of us still there** ended up sloping off home at 3.30am or so.

* Well, it’s happened twice now, so there.

** I think it was Jordan, Rosy, Si, me, Sparks, Sarah B and Talicious. Possibly a Kendler too, but I think he’d left by then. Ian begged a sofa and stayed over, and of course there were the residents of the flat. Not sure where Becky S was at this point, but something tells me she might have been with us as well.

The Bus Home

The 3.30am 143 to West Dids and beyond was absolutely rammed, so we (Rosy, Jordan and me, although I’m sure there were one or two others) ended up standing at the front. Well, with us was a chap with many many facial piercings, and a kebab (wrapping secured with a strip of electrical tape). He turned out to be my very own stalker, knowing the following details about me:

• My name’s "Mahinda Kultrane". Well, close enough. Not sure why people insist on chopping two syllables out of my surname, but it’s a common mistake.
• I was a UMIST chemical engineering student in a former life.
• I’m a tech writer.
• I sometimes drink in The Railway, West Didsbury.
• I sometimes play tennis in Fog Lane park.

Eeek!

His name turned out to be Tim, and I honestly didn’t recognise him at all. I was just a bit on edge at this point - I was sure that I’d recognise anyone from my year, and most from the years above and below. So I said as much, and he replied that he wasn’t in my year.

It took me until Fallowfield to figure it out - he used to have green hair! He was two years below me at uni, and took over Ecstatic, the departmental magazine, which I’d had a hand in during 3rd year. He eventually dropped out of Chem Eng, into Physics, and is now a roadie for bands like The Damned. Hence the piercings.

I can think of people (female, mostly) that I’d rather have stalking me, to be honest.

Hockey Can Be Dangerous

I completely forgot to mention the hockey match that took place before the events of Saturday evening. We were at home against Chester, and I got back my favoured spot on the right of defence. It was a bit like old times - the 1st XI had poached lots of our players, so we’d drafted in a few of my old 3rd XI buddies, as they didn’t have a game that day.

I think I had a pretty good game, and it ended up a very entertaining 0-0 draw.

One event that does bear note, however, is me almost sending some poor chap into hospital. I took a free hit on the sideline…and got it a bit wrong. I hit the ball with some serious power, but accidentally undercut it a bit - so that it flew up and smacked an opposing player in the throat about 10yds away. Possibly less.

He dropped like a stone. As you’d tend to when hit in a soft area by a 3"-diameter ball of hard plastic travelling at 100mph or so.

FORTUNATELY, it hit him in the hollow of his left shoulder. 2" lower, and his collarbone would have taken one hell of a whack. 2" higher, and it could have been a fractured jaw. 2" to the right, and his larynx might have come into play.

No lasting harm done, then, but I’ll bet he was sore in the morning. Probably still is, five days later!

The bloke certainly knew he was in a game - a few minutes later, he got caught in the head by Steve’s elbow. Just after that, I pretty much rugby tackled him in the D - just a trip in the general melée, and we got caught up as I fell.

All that, and he’s ginger. Poor sod.

I should also mention that, as I was leaving the pitch, I heard a female voice call out "Hello Mahinda!" It was Hannah, one of the dancing girls from the Alty Garrick panto, about to play for Timperley against one of our ladies’ teams. I’d forgotten that she played hockey. Hannah must be 18 or 19 now, but I still think of her as a 14-year-old in a leotard!

Anyway, it had been almost a year to the day since I last bumped into her - at 5th Ave in fact, as blogged here. Spooky!