Up North

To continue being backward in coming forward I'm compelled to record our forays into the North of England and beyond earlier this year. We were aided in our first excursion into that cold, bleak landscape by our dear friends in Bolton - hardy souls who have chosen to depart sunny Birmingham in exchange for the frozen wastes beyond Lichfield. As it turned out we were received with considerable hospitality and wanted for none of the conveniences to which we are accustomed, added to which the excellent company and hearty fodder made for a most enjoyable trip. Our friends are hoping to make their new home even more welcoming by asserting themselves upon the local flora: 'no tree shall stand above a man's height' are the words bringing order to the wilderness about Bolton. I wish him well with his work; our only excursion into the wilds of that country soon ended as we were struck by the sheer impenetrability of its prehistoric forests, wondrous to behold though they were.

Emboldened by our recent successes, and tempted by reported sightings of that rarest of pop creatures: the Pixies; we took the not inconsiderable risk of venturing much deeper North, beyond even Hadrian's Wall, at the end of October - perilously close to winter. Once more we were to be amazed by the level of society we there encountered; Glasgow is a beautiful city, full of glorious Victorian and Edwardian architecture, a thriving music and comedy scene and, contrary to reputation, some of the friendliest and most welcoming people one could hope to find away from home. We were not disappointed in catching a glimpse of those elusive Pixies either.

Fat lip

The sjuzet of this blog is a little confusing isn't it? We're off to bonfire night now, which we celebrated this year with some friends on their farm. We had a box of fireworks in the loft from about four years ago which we took along and luckily most of them still worked. It turned out to be a lot of fun, if a little dangerous... the three of us in charge of fireworks were quite drunk and in the pitch dark were having trouble reading the instructions. Bury 30cm in the ground and stand well back became light and then place on the ground, repeat until they start going off, then leg it! We had a few misfires (one of which struck the pile of fireworks!) but nothing serious until my friend set off a monstrous looking box and caught one of its expulsions directly in the mouth as he backed off. He had a massively swollen lip and looked as though he'd been punched right in the kisser, but luckily no burns. Needless to say he received the best medical attention including a bag of frozen peas, a whiskey and a great deal of piss taking. He, along with his fall from a moving car and having an iron bar land on his head from a great height (some years ago, not all on bonfire night you understand) took this to be yet more evidence of his invulnerability. He does seem to have nine lives.

A good Sunday

Today was pleasant. After a rare lie in (until almost midday!) we had a nice cooked breakfast of bacon, eggs, beans and toast. Next we wrapped up warm for a long walk in the park, during which we got stuck in several bogs. My fiancée was well prepared with her brightly coloured Wellington boots; I managed to get covered in mud and soak my feet. After drying off we headed out for a Sunday roast at the local pub followed by a few games of Monopoly on the quiz machine. To wrap it off we curled up on the sofa and watched 16 Blocks. There may have been chocolate involved...

Efficiency

I must have the least efficient essay writing technique in the history of essayists; I seem to require geological time scales in order to marshal my thoughts and type them into word. I don't want to try anything too different, though, as thus far it seems to work! Still, only four more to write before Christmas, and then I can actually take a break! Or, more likely, crack on with reading for my dissertation. I'm sure the whole project would run so much more smoothly if I didn't have to abase myself at the altar of capitalism for sixteen hours a week.

What a miserable post! Must find something lively and exciting to talk about next time.

Simon Amstell

I've always enjoyed Simon Amstell's vicious brand of humour... like a kind of sarcastic gay attack Jew - in the best possible way. His live persona was very different though. It was an extremely personal performance that touched on some of the great philosophical questions. Horace wrestled with some similar existential problems in his Odes, thousands of years ago.

Party like it's 1998

We went out on Friday, Saturday and Sunday this weekend. It's been a very long time since either of us has attempted that. We are now paying the price by feeling extremely old and tired. Early to bed after school this week to recover methinks!

Last of the Mohicans

On Sunday my fiancée and I attended the thirtieth birthday party of a good friend of mine. The theme was Wild West so first thing we had to do was pick up a costume. Despairing of the tat in fancy dress shops we went off in search of checked shirts on the high street and, as luck would have it, cowboy style jeans, boots and shirts are in at the moment - who knew? Not wishing to splurge on a whole new outfit we each picked up a suitable shirt in River Island.

We soon felt confident that we had picked the winning side since of the thirty-odd guests only one had come as a Native Indian. To compliment the costumes there was a bucking bronco and cactus lassoing. Slightly off-theme but just as much fun were the bouncy castle and trampoline - it's been years since any of us have had a go on a bouncy castle and we were all surprised by just how exhausting it is! The bucking bronco was a big hit too - even my friend's grandma had a go in the end.