Captain's Log

Shit

Fri, 29 Aug 2008 22:35:34 GMT

Friday night.

Shit.

I'm moving house tomorrow.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!

Porridge porridge everywhere, but not an oat to eat

Sun, 03 Aug 2008 17:03:04 GMT

Sunday afternoon.

Last weekend featured an experience I am not likely to forget in a hurry. The occasion was the 21st birthday of Michael "Tiger Babe/Walshy" Walsh. His method of celebration was to hold a big party at the scout hut near the Lion Brewery and include a barrage of beverage, a band called Philanthropy strumming some tune, DJ mixing from DJ "Too Cold" TJ Huzar but also, and most importantly, porridge wrestling.

Originally I wasn't really up for immersing myself in cold oaty murk. It's not the kind of thing that generally appeals. Porridge is a substance that is best served warm with a slight viscousity, sweetened with either sugar, syrup or chocolate spread. I'm not one of those Orthodox Scots who goes for the traditional salt, I get too much of that from other foodstuffs. At least, that's what everyone says. Plus it doesn't taste all that nice.

However, there was a slight scarcity in willing wrestlers for the festivities. Only Walshy himself, Franko, Norton and Libby were committed to combat. Sure, other chancers relished the opportunity to jump in the 10' long paddling pool full of gloopy oats and ruin whatever clothes they were wearing, but there were not so many willing to get in with half-naked men "go at it". And so, after careful consideration* I got into my wrestling attire (sadly my leotard was in the wash so I had to make do with swimshorts and a green t-shirt to protect the beauty spots on my shoulder blades) and walked in to the pool to face my eventual opponent, Chris "Fun Time Franko" Franks.

Now this is the key part. Standing in porridge up to my ankles felt really good. After I took my first slam down to the floor, the substance lapped up at my chest and my hair. Its fingers stroked my sweat-coated strands, cleansing and soothing my weary pores as they opened up to claim the liquid as a brother. I closed my eyes for centuries in one blink, meditating upon my supine, divine position. It was a rebirth. An immersion in an almost pre-natal fluid that restored me to my essence. I had a renaissance in the blink of an eye. Struggling to my feet, feet that slipped and struggled to hold me in a stable upright position, I realised that this release was unnatural. I should be sitting in silent contemplation beneath the waves of the cereal. Curled into a foetal position whilst my friends poured bowls upon me. I wanted to be covered in a cocoon, awaiting the right moment to emerge back into the world after all the hideousness and poor taste had been washed away. The porridge. It was beautiful.

Needless to say, I pinned Franko, tired from his previous defeat at the hands of Norton, for the 1-2-3 after a series of slick lubricated grapples. We sat around in the porridge for a while afterwards. Eventually, other people could see that it was a wonderful thing and joined us, fully clothed. They weren't interested in getting other people mucky, as the earlier rapscallions had been. They just wanted to share the moment and perhaps purify themselves spiritually. I'd like to think that on that night we all succeeded.

The party overall was good fun. Sian and Clare from uni came along to partake in the festivities. I believe they had a good time. The only problem with the party was that there were a number of foolios there who took advantage of the social situation and acted rather anti-socially. They won't be getting invited to any such things again (although it's dubious as to whether they'd been invited formally to this one). Tidying up was tough but it was accomplished well. The worst bit of tidying was the tidying up of my body the next day. Oats. There were oats everywhere. There are places on the human body where one should never find oats. I had plenty of them in those places last Sunday. Enough to make a flapjack.

2-Shay - new track no. 2, a homage to a film that pisses all over Blade Runner

Tue, 29 Jul 2008 20:16:53 GMT

TOTAL RECALL

Hot damn bitch yeah we shootin’ this back, turning this track up with some original tack
‘Cos right now can’t yo see we is under attack, BREACH THE PEACE with the first contact
Can you remember it for me wholesale? I’m turning pale with the fear of failing
Running through the city from the cunts who are tailing me WHY ME!? No this ain’t plain sailing
Turns out I’m a futuristic spy, taking on the feds who stake claim to the sky
Cutting off the fingers that poison the pie, BLAST OFF TO MARS, in a rocket we fly
I think they’ve erased my memory, though I can’t quite remember things so clearly
They might have had me working for them briefly, WELL FUCK THAT SHIT I’m gonna save the city!

They stole my mind now I want it back, and unless they hide I’m gonna fuck their crack…

I wanna remember a time we could breathe
And weren’t fucked by no bourgeois thieves
I wanna have total recall, I wanna have total recall
I wanna remember a time the mutants could breathe
And weren’t repressed by karma police
I wanna have total recall, I wanna have total recall

All across town from mars bar to bar, in the martian streets with their martian cars
It’s a foreign wasteland amongst the stars with a bourgeois oppression leaving physical scars
Benny asks me have I fucked a mutant? ‘Cos there’s just so many due to cosmic pollutant
With triple-breasted hos you can’t argue, but the man is a traitor so Benny SCREW YOU!
The haves are trying to mould my self, jacking my mind you will find with stealth
Is this a dream? The doubt is fucking my health HEADFUCKING ME leaving me on the shelf
‘Cos this is how they engineer demise, cutting up yo mind like yo lobotomised
They monopolise we gotta realise, IT’S A FALSE CLASS CONSCIOUSNESS, open your eyes!

They stole my mind now I want it back, and unless they hide I’m gonna fuck their crack…

I wanna remember a time we could breathe
And weren’t fucked by no bourgeois thieves
I wanna have total recall, I wanna have total recall
I wanna remember a time the proles could breathe
And weren’t consumed by cock machines
I wanna have total recall, I wanna have total recall

“See you at the party Richter!!”

They stole my mind now I want it back, and unless they hide I’m gonna fuck their crack…
They stole my mind now I want it back, the mutants will rise in a SURPRISE ATTACK!!!

I wanna remember a time we could breathe
And weren’t fucked by no bourgeois thieves
I wanna have total recall, I wanna have total recall
I wanna remember a time the world could breathe
And had control of what it believed
I wanna have total recall, I wanna have total recall

What if this is a dream? What if this is a dream?
What if this is a dream? Well then kiss me quick before you wake up.

GAME OVER

Wed, 23 Jul 2008 22:48:58 GMT

Wednesday night.

It's as though I only ever blog when I've started working at ADP again. Summer begins yet another stage of transition, as I start to move from one mode of life to another. Academia is gone for good and forthcoming is the wonderful world of full-time work, full-time tax, full-time independence and full-time thinking "WTFWTFWTFWTFWTFWTFWTFAMISUPPOSEDTODONOW!!>!>??!?" Up until now everything decision I've had to make has been guided very neatly by the education system, but at this point anything goes. If I really wanted I could attempt to move to Liverpool and get a job as a milkman. It wouldn't be the most practical thing to do, and I think that, despite all its glamour, I might have to leave that one for a couple of years time.

The plan is to move to Brighton with Tim and Philippa and we've pretty much got ourselves a sweet little housey flat sorted. We are just waiting for confirmation from the ridiculously invasive and ravenous independent referencing group to confirm that we are suitable enough applicants for the flat. Then we're talking. And I will be talking about that at a later date.

You see, what I really want to be doing with my life is to write stuff creatively. This can manifest itself in novels, sitcoms, computer game plots, left-leaning political hip-hop, webcomics involving dinosaur pirates, it doesn't really matter. Any of those would be a pretty sweet career. My theory is that as everything can only improve with practice, I ought to get on to writing with some regularity if I'm to attain a decent level of writing skillz with which to begin this odyssey, and therefore the Captain's Log is back in session.

The main purpose of this entry was to mourn and lament the ending of university life. It had been 3 of the best years of my life. I've met some of the greatest people I could ever wish to meet and done things that many people would eat their own faeces to accomplish. That might be a tad hyperbolic but the sentiment is real. It was awesome. I can appreciate how lucky I've been to land myself in that situation with those people for the past 3 years, and the final train journey home was one of the most depressing I've ever taken in my life. The selection of melancholic pop music on my mp3 player didn't really help matters but it was the ideal soundtrack to end my three years of good times.

The people I've met have led me to some great experiences. They introduced me to nightclubs, awesome TV such as Lost and Brass Eye, music such as Art Brut, films such as Withnail & I, Xbox, going to the cinema on my own, marijuana, kissing whilst sober, cross-dressing, vegekebabs, intensive song writing, the merits of Boggle and Scrabble, camping with friends, probably other impressive cultural artefacts as well. I'm pretty tired now though. All I can say is that those guys I had the pleasure of meeting in Exeter have had a tremendous impact on my life and I undoubtedly owe them a lot.

There are many things I regret. When isn't there? There are people I should have talked to more, people I should have talked to less, places I should have gone, events I should have attended, certain modules I shouldn't have bothered with, certain assignments I should have put more into etc etc etc It's pretty difficult to get a perfect game, but as Floella Benjamin, Chancellor of our esteemed University said, the best way to go through life is with the 3 Cs. Confidence, consideration and contentment. I have considered my time in Exeter and am confident that I live content with what I achieved there.

YEAH!

I'll probably talk about it more in the future, do some Top 5s and Top 10s and stuff regarding it. I'm going to aim to write twice a week about various interesting things. Interesting to me that is, possibly not you. I don't really care about you.

Love you really.

What a shit way to end a blog. I'm never going to sell any books like this.

2-Shay - new track

Tue, 03 Jun 2008 17:05:37 GMT

LEON TROTSKY AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS

So we went to a political party, place was slamming like a Mardi (Gras)
Head in to the crib with Leon Trotsky, big M Gandhi and the Dalai (Lama)
The whole Winter Palace done up so gnarly, hit the danceflo’ I don’t wanna be tardy
Scan for some sweet devotchkas to parley, see some sassy hos drinking Bacardi
Won’t be too long before we all swap car-keys, head upstairs and remove our khakis
Pour myself out a stiff little whisky before Frida Kahlo comes over and frisks me
The look in her eyes is seriously frisky, feels a little risky with her hand on my testes
Standing there right next to me, pleasuring me so respectfully

TURN IT UP, GET ON DOWN, GRAB A COMRADE, SPIN HER ROUND
This is the revolution I’m talking about, left-wing party jump and shout
RAISE A GLASS, SHAKE YO ASS, PARTY HARD FOR THE UNDERCLASS

So we chill at the political party, a pumping safe haven from all the Nazis
One-eyed fascists, paparazzi, and anyone who’s ever worked with Saatchi
The people who all wanna feather and tar me, not for pleasure, purely to harm me
The smiles of the smarmy, the facades so charming, it’s alarming how their army is so disarming
Nah instead we have a phat Barbie, vegekebabs on the fire that’s starting
Dzerzhinsky opens up a can of Carling, adjusts the sausages that he stole from Stalin
At this party I can’t stop smiling, sitting in the front room with the ladies reclining
The music’s quite loud but nobody’s minding, Trotsky jumps up with these lyrics reciting

TURN IT UP, GET ON DOWN, GRAB A COMRADE, SPIN HER ROUND
This is the revolution I’m talking about, left-wing party jump and shout
RAISE A GLASS, SHAKE YO ASS, PARTY HARD FOR THE UNDERCLASS

Is there something wrong with this picture I have painted?
The future is not bright, the future’s tainted
Is there something wrong with this picture I have painted?
The future is not bright, the future’s tainted
This topic…
It’s dystopic…
This topic…
Seriously dystopic…

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?

We gotta pave the way to Mexico, across the borders and away we go
We can’t play wid yo, not anymo’, you’re chasing a comrade right out the door
We hide away in a cactus patch, ice picks in our heads to match
They’re burning up all of our stash, we gotta be the ones too cold to catch
We riding a bullshit rodeo, fatter than a snake from Borneo
A paedophile with polio, you treat me like I’m unfashionable
Shit’s gonna start getting technical, bitches start gettin’ hysterical
Jump on board, hell, here we go, dystopia live out yo stereo

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

So you hit me with a Dictaphone, try to slip me another bitch to bone
There’s a call coming through on the telephone, best tell the Pres I ain’t coming home
They want me bringing home the bacon, motherfuck’ that I’m vegetarian
I’m also middle-class badass Aryan but I don’t want any of yo comparing ‘em
No fighting in the war room, hell breaks loose I bring a broad broom
When you hear that bass go boom I clean-sweep the creeps who delete and entomb
We got a whole nation lying fallow, and the hole in the wall is starting to narrow
Before we start drowning in the shallows bust Leon Trotsky those deathly hallows

When……and….how???

Work

Sun, 16 Mar 2008 23:43:56 GMT

Sunday night.

Back to the office again tomorrow morning. *sigh* Getting up at 6am just isn't appealing right at the moment. I'm sure the nitty gritty of payroll administration will be a-ok but the whole process of travelling 50-odd minutes a day to and fro is just so tiresome.

I currently reside in a bedroom that is full of bags of things. It is quite stifling. I have a demi-beard going on at the moment because I said something along the lines of not shaving whilst working on my dissertation. My dissertation is entitled 'The criminal anti-hero in Anglo-American literary culture from the 1960s' and I shaved the sides of my face and underjaw a few hours ago with a shit razor. It's quite itchy.

Some football was played earlier which was great fun. I started off pretty badly with a few ill-judged charges and misses of the ball (I shall attribute these to having not had any exercise, let alone football, and badass drinking celebrations over the past week or so) but I think I improved steadily as I went on. Playing on the Ash Manor astroturf is pretty smooth as you get so much space compared to the cage at uni. I felt up for running with the ball a fair bit which never happens when playing in Exeter. So that was nice.

This is a diversionary tactic. I don't want to go to bed because I'm trying to avoid going to work tomorrow. Yowl. It'll be fun really. I might even bring my frog flicking game back into play.

Here's a joke you won't find in a Xmas cracker...

Thu, 13 Mar 2008 18:11:25 GMT

Thursday evening.

Q. What is the strongest religion?

A. Islam, because it's followers are all Musselmen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11111111111101101101101101101101101

Regularity

Tue, 11 Mar 2008 00:31:25 GMT

Monday night.

Woke up late.
Ate toast w/ chocolate spread and drank orange juice for breakfast.
Went to campus for a study group discussion of American Psycho and Manhunter.
Went home for a lunch of pitta breads, cheese and salsa.
Watched Manhunter again. (2.5 out of 5)
Surfed net, jogged memory of On Liberty.
Washed up.
Made dinner of some kind of chili. It comprised of mushrooms, green lentils, chopped tomatoes, yellow pepper, onion, garlic, baby corn, red wine, accompanied by a salad of cucumber, lettuce, slight garlic and herb dressing, cheese. Not enough tomato involved with the whole process.
Read some Flashman.
Came upstairs when America's Next Top Model came on to do some dissertation planning.
Listened to Swim, Polythene and Yesterday Went Too Soon by Feeder.
Once this album is finished I am going to bed.

Blogging

Sun, 09 Mar 2008 13:48:41 GMT

Sunday afternoon.

There's a guy at uni from the US called Griffin. He is one of a group students from Kenyon uni in the US who are spending a year studying here before returning to the US. Anyway, this guy from the US keeps a regular blog going to update folks back in the US of what he's been getting up to here in the UK. It's pretty cool blog. And it has got me thinking.

Thinking about how it would be nice to write on here more often, so that in the future I can look back and find out where my time in Exeter actually went, as well as possibly providing some form of entertainment for idle likeminded surfers.

The 'write an album' didn't really happen in the end, though it nearly did. I have 10 songlets, they just need nurturing.

The Pixies are awesome.

Today so far I am really hungover from Sian's 21st yesterday and haven't left my room that much. I need to go make an awesome sandwich and have a shower though.

Yesterday was incredible sports wise. Just for the record:

Scotland 15 - 9 England
Manchester Utd 0 - 1 Portsmouth
Sheffield Wednesday 2 - 1 QPR
Barnsley 1 - 0 Chelsea

Too good. Alex Ferguson is a bad loser.

2008

Thu, 24 Jan 2008 00:17:45 GMT

Night before last exam ever.

Happy New Year.

First post of 2008 eh. Let me enlighten you. Not with a discourse in counter-culture, terrorism, or even my album (working title, 'A Discourse in Counter-culture/Terrorism') but with a list of the albums I've listened to recently. I'm listening to my collection in alphabetical order and here's what's happened so far, including a best track for each and a rating out of 5 maybe:

artist/album fave track rating

65daysofstatic - The Fall of Math. Retreat! Retreat! 3
A - HiFi Serious Nothing 2
Air - Moon Safari La Femme d'Argent 4
Andre, Peter - Best Of... Mysterious Girl 1
Arcade Fire - EP Headlights Look Like Diamonds 3
Arcade Fire - Funeral Rebellion (Lies) 5
Arcade Fire - Neon Bible No Cars Go 5
Arctic Monkeys - Whatever You Say I Am... The View From The Afternoon 3
Art Brut - Bang Bang Rock & Roll Emily Kane 4
Art Brut - It's A Bit Complicated Nag Nag Nag Nag 5
Ash - Trailer Petrol 3
Ash - 1977 Lose Control 4
Ash - Nu-Clear Sounds Deathtrip 21 3
Ash - Free All Angels Burn Baby Burn 3
Ash - Meltdown Vampire Love 4
At The Drive In - Relationship of Command Enfilade 4
Biffy Clyro - Puzzle Living Is A Problem... 5
Bloc Party - Silent Alarm Like Eating Glass 3
Blondie - Greatest Hits Atomic 3
Blur - Best Of... Song 2 5
Blur - Think Tank We've Got A File On You 3
Buckley, Jeff - Grace Hallelujah 4
Campaign For Real Tim - Yes...I Mean No Something Is Wrong 4
Captain Beefheart - Trout Mask Replica Ella Guru 2
Chemical Bros - Singles '93 - '03 Block Rockin' Beats 4

So there you go. Next up, Coco Rosie. The scoring system is very dodgy.

Countdown to Christmas

Sun, 16 Dec 2007 21:47:50 GMT

Sunday night.

I used to have a bit of a tradition when I was little that in order to make the wait until Xmas a bit more bearable I would create some kind of play tournament that would countdown until a sort of final on Christmas Eve. Over the years these ranged from the dice-based imaginary fighting championships to little football tournaments with Monster Wrestlers and Subbeteo balls.

As I'm not sure where my dice and Monster Wrestlers are these days I'm unable to do that kind of thing this year. However, for most of November I had been participating in the National Novel Writing Month scheme (NaNoWriMo), the basic premise of this being that you have a month in which to write a 50,000 word novel. The purpose is less writing an awesome novel but more the act of writing a novel itself. At the end you are meant to have a great sense of having achieved one of those things people talk about a lot but rarely do anything about.

Basically where this is going is that I have been inspired by the runup to Christmas and the idea that you should create art or whatever for creation's sake, just to get some ideas out of your head and into a more tangible existence. My idea a few days ago was to write enough songs to form a 10 track album by Christmas. When I had this idea, this equated to a song a day. I currently have 8 days left and no songs. I will attempt this however.

The songs may well be awful. Their chord sequences may be clichéd and generic. The lyrics may be unfunny, nonsensical or generally failing in attempting to be profound. The structures may not go anywhere. None of this matters awfully. What matters is that 10 or so songs are written, by hook or by crook. I shall attempt to force inspiration out of my orifices and into my fingers, creating a diverse set of audio beasts. I've had enough motes of inspirado over the past few months to make a go at this, and so go at it I shall.

Perhaps the songs will go on a journey. Perhaps that journey will end at your doorstep. Or perhaps they will get lost on the way and wander into some public house along the way, waking up the next day in some angsty privet.

Come J-Boi's bday, we shall see.

I am in deep shit

Tue, 11 Dec 2007 22:27:53 GMT

Tuesday night

This is what the score is:

1. I return to work today at ADP in Chertsey.

2. I am no longer sitting with my previous team of Gill, Cathy, Janice, Valerie, Dawn and Christine, now augmented by Rajinder and Laura.

3. I am now sitting with my old buddy Carol, as well as my new vague acquaintances Joanna, Ruth and Jamie.

4. Carol makes me a cup of tea (as well as offering a second around lunchtime)

5. Laura makes me a cup of tea (as well as offering one prior to this before lunchtime)

Question: Who am I supposed to offer to make tea for?!??!

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

WTF

Mon, 17 Sep 2007 15:55:54 GMT

Monday afternoon.

Last week was a bit ridiculous.

Monday - We filmed 'Extreme Eating 2', featuring the Broccoli Forest, Proletariat Roulette, Watford Pie and the Ally Millar Milkshake. In the evening we played Risk.

Tuesday - Me, Marc, Steve and Walshy travelled to Wandsworth to watch two episodes of 'Ready Steady Cook' get filmed. They're going to be shit hot.

Wednesday - Me and Steve went to Woking to see 'Chicago'. It ruled. We then watched the Scotland - France match. It also ruled.

Thursday - Climbed Box Hill with Ally, Marc and Steve. In the evening me and Amo went to see a reading and a play in progress at Hampstead Theatre, Swiss Cottage.

Friday - Walshy came over and we watched shitloads of TV. In the evening me, Ally, Gary, Marc and Walshy went to Tyas' house for his birthday.

Saturday - Ally held a football tournament for his 21st birthday which was one by the team of me, Darren, Rich, Steve Kelly and Steve Millar. In the evening me, G, Hannah, Marc, Tim and Walshy journeyed to MOGADOR for a BBQ celebrating the 21st birthday of Becky.

Sunday - Had band practice in preparation for our gig on Tuesday. Should hopefully be ace.

Today I have done the washing up, ate a pizza, shaved, cut my nails and watched some women's footy. Phew.

Copy and paste from a few days back

Sat, 04 Aug 2007 23:22:37 GMT

THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS SPOILERS TO HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS.

Today I should have been in St. Bees, in a pub somewhere, drinking some fine local ale and snaffling upon an all day breakfast or a Ploughmans whilst contemplating how the hell I'd be getting back to London. Instead I am sitting on my bed, laptop atop my lap having just eaten a banana and a muffin, washed down with some orange juice. So what the devil happened? What prevented this glorious culinary scene from being properly realised? What was the reason for the epic expedition being abandoned at the tender halfway stage? Without a doubt we were up for it physically. It is quite probable we were up for it mentally. What grates however is that, despite this, we were not up for it financially.

* * * * * * *

The story begins on Monday 16th July. I had returned home from working as a steward at Guilfest alongside the exponential Stephen Kelly. Many adventures were had, but this is not the time nor the place to mention them. Upon arriving, I had limited time to pack what was to be an ambitiously minimalistic rucksack. The packing was a victory for pragmatism over hygiene with regards to the amount of clothing I took, details of which I'm sure you wouldn't care to know. Then it was off to Ash Vale station to ride up to London with comrades Graham, Marc and Tim to catch our Megabus up to Middlesbrough.

This was my first ever trip on a Megabus and I was pretty apprehensive about the whole thing, what with them having a reputation for lacking in general creature comforts such as leg room. However, when getting onboard I was met with a sloucher's dream. I could extend my legs to their full length and flop halfway down the back of the seat. A victory for bad posture! This way I was able to sleep through the first few hours of the journey, with the odd intermittent discussion speculating on what the 7th Harry Potter book had in store for us. Sadly, we had to change into a smaller, less forgiving coach once we'd reached Sheffield, one that sat us in a no-slouch zone at the back, leaving us to take in the scenery of the North. I was previously aware of Sheffield's awesomnity, but Leeds was a lot nicer looking than I initially expected it to be. Not a dark satanic mill in sight.

These places got us into high spirits about Middlesbrough, our destination, but we were to be sorely disappointed. Middlesbrough is a town of the dead. We arrived there around 9ish, expecting to be plunged into a thriving town centre, full of the young and carefree out and about enjoying a pleasant Monday evening, only to be met with silence and emptiness. The big Sainsburys near the bus station was closed. 90% of the bars and pubs we walked past were closed. It would seem that the heart of Middlesbrough was closed to us. Seriously, Wanborough at 1am is probably more lively than Middlesbrough. Understandably we didn't stick around particularly long here, got a taxi and headed down towards Robin Hood's Bay, the start of our journey.

If there was any town that had a silent cabbie, it would have to be Middlesbrough. This may well have been the world's first silent cab journey as we travelled through some very nice Postman Pat-esque countryside. One particularly nice bit was going through Whitby. I was sad not to see any aufwaders hanging around the streets here but cheered up by the abbey which was lit up in a merry fashion. They seem to really like Captain Cook in those parts, I think we must have passed at least one road, car park or bench named in his honour for every 10 minutes of driving.

We finally arrived in Robin Hood's Bay around 10ish to pitch our tents in the dark. Seemed like a nice place in the dark. Lots of lighening in the sky. We initially assumed it was a lighthouse because it was so bright.

* * * * * *

And so the first day of the walk began. After some porridge with raisins (made with water rather than milk) we headed down to the sea to begin our journey at 11.15am. We would finish the day at a little B&B to camp at around 9.30pm. Quite a bit of walking then. It started off really well with us walking along the North Sea coast in some nice sunny weather. Keep forgetting that the sea is really really really big. Made some pretty decent sneaky manoeuvres during the day to maximise our distance and minimise our pain; traversed an iffy looking bog by skirting a main road for an hour or so, and took another short cut along a road. It meant missing out on a waterfall but that wasn't so big a deal. We were going to see lots of awe-inspiring water features in the Lake District, weren't we? Lots of hardcore 25-30% gradients to be walked up and down. Wasn't looking forward to more of these the next day, but the prospect of camping wild was good. Was very hungry, despite the dinner of couscous and potatoes in soup. This meal was a nice little innovation of Tim's; making up a soup on our gas stove, then bunging in the couscous to soak it up. Tres bon.

* * * * * * *

Dear God I was hungry the next day. More porridge for breakfast with dried fruit did not cease the grumblings of the beast, although a shower did feel good. We spoke to an old man on our way who had once cycled the coast to coast route on his bike in one day in his youth before we took on a motherfucker of a hill that he had cycled up easily only a few minutes earlier. We had very little in the way of food for lunch so we had to make to do with digestive biscuits. Normally I would happily snaffle up half a packet of these in one sitting, so careful rationing brought me discomfort. We then made an executive decision to have a pub lunch at the one pub on the day's route. Thinking of the Lion Inn got me through the next couple of hours. I think the photo of Tim with the pub in the distance encapsulates how I felt at the time, as does the picture of me looking a tad peckish.

When we eventually got there we had the best pub lunch ever, as well as stocking up on Lucozade and Dairy Milk. I had breaded mushrooms with garlic sauce to start, vegetable lasagne with chips and salad for main, homemade scone with jam and cream for pudding, all washed down with cranberry juice and a pot of tea. Bonza.

After this, we managed to pwn the rest of the day's walk before setting up camp. The moors we walked through throughout the day were rather stunning, although I think Marc's pictures capture this a lot better than my camera, what with him being the professional photographer of the team. Felt pretty damn optimistic after setting up camp for the night.

* * * * * * *

We were low on water the next day. We had about a bottle each, and with 3 hills standing between us and the next refill point and a very thirsty Marc with us (he seriously is a drinking monster) we were going to have to ration the supplies well. This also meant to water porridge for breakfast, so things weren't all bad. Had dried apricots instead. Basically to start we had three big hills to march up and down, my knee was feeling a tad iffy going down the blighters but trekking up I was like a sprightly mountain goat. On top of the second hill I decided to write a heartfelt note of comradeship to any other coast to coast walkers passing by, leaving my contact details at the bottom so we would be able to swap strories when we both got home. As yet I have not heard from anyone.

After the hills was the greatest cafe known to man. So good was the cafe that I decided to take photos of me and Tim's vegetarian all day breakfast and G and Marc's jacket potato. What was especially mighty about our all day breakfast was that the vege alternative wasn't even offered on the menu; Tim enquired about the possibility of getting one and we were rewarded with fake sausages the likes of which we'd never tasted before. If there was a sausage edition of Faking It, these guys would have succeeded with bells on. What was also really awesome, and many of you will understand how good this is, is that they offered pots of tea for £1. With free refills. Free. Refills. That's a hell of a lot of tea. Even someone like me who considers tea to be relatively overrated and only needed in times of great physical hardship such as working in an office had more than a few cups.

After this wonderful fooding, we went up one final bitch hill before strolling into a village called Swainby to stock up on essentials like pasta and suntan lotion (although this was too late to stop our sunburn. We had expected North Yorkshire to be gloomy, overcast and wet as it is supposed to be) before continuing the rest of the day's walking. This involved crossing the most walker unfriendly farm you are ever likely to encounter. Despite us having right-of-way we encountered barbed wire on stiles, nettles, brambles, hidden ruts in the ground, electric fences across the path, cow shit and sinister black caterpillars (these bastards were blacker than midnight, actually made me squirm more than any spiders had at this point). Along here Marc actually crawled through some shit whilst attempting to navigate the electric fence. Wet wipes won the day thankfully.

After this ordeal we were able to get some Irn Bru and Ginsters products at a BP station before finding a wonderful farm where we were able to camp the night. The woman who lived there even gave us some milk to have porridge with in the morning! THANK GOD.

* * * * * * *

Porridge in the morning was excellent. We walked a long and flat path on this day which was largely uneventful. We stopped in a pub in Danby Whiske for lunch which involved toasties, playing pool and listening to the Proclaimers. I sadly lost to Tim, despite an epic 3-pots-in-a-row quasi comeback.

We then finished the rest of the day walking some more until we got to a nice campsite outside Richmond. The facilities here were awesome; were able to get pizza, chips and cheese and chocolate fudge cake for dinner here (!) and there were to be showers and clothes washing facilities in the morning (very useful considering the amount of clothing I'd brought).

The day was finished with two epic games of Uno, playing full on 7 0 Stacking Bitch Momma rules. I lost both games to Graham in the end, however in these circumstances it is apt to contemplate that I in fact came 2nd out of 4 in such contests. We had originally planned to walk into Richmond to get Harry Potter but it looked like raining and other campers had suggested that the one Woolworths in town may have been unlikely to be open at midnight. So we waited...

At this point in the trip, my phone was putting up a good case for assisted suicide. It was under the impression that it was charging all the time, so I couldn't just turn it off to save battery, I had to remove the battery itself which meant that its clock kept fucking up. I need to get a new phone really.

* * * * * * *

Rain came. Me and Marc hadn't pegged down our tent properly. We awake to find puddles around our heads. One of Marc's cameras has a puddle of its own. It isn't working anymore. Marc is unhappy. Marc has to try phoning the insurance company.

Felt pretty shit most of the day. Our tent was pretty wet inside, as was my rollmat and sleeping bag (which had somehow conspired to soak itself in cranberry juice at Guilfest. Sleeping in a cranberry juice saturated sleeping bag is not fun.) and I was not exactly relishing the prospect of spending another week or so living in such a soggy mess as this. Nevertheless, an all day breakfast, a shower and some skilled drying with the Independent made everything seem OK.

We headed into Richmond. Tim got his copy of the Deathly Hallows. Marc and Graham got some new spanky looking hats and walking sticks. I, aware of my current money worries (I had about 10p at this point) headed to a cash point to withdraw my final £10 on my card. If Halifax had been open I could have negotiated some sneaky card-to-card money transferring to give myself enough cash to last the rest of the trip, but unfortunately the bastards closed an hour prior to our arrival in town. Luckily Marc still owed me £35 for his walking boots and we would be passing near my parents at my uncle's house in a few days time so I'd be able to mooch some money of them. For the time being, I buy shitloads of chocolate, lucozade and stuff for our lunches (bread and philadelphia) for the next day or two. We get the hell out Richmond, observing some amusing buildings on the way.

After a while of walking through damp fields, across damp hills, along damp roads and upon damp paths we eventually get to a place called Reath. Reath is an awesome village. It may not be the biggest village in the UK like some places, but it is picturesque. We go to a tea room where we all drink copious amounts of tea and all eat delicious food. I have another all day breakfast and a piece of caramel shortcake. In the tea stakes I set out to try 4 diifferent combinations; tea with brown sugar, tea with white sugar, tea with no sugar and tea with no milk or sugar. I will outline my findings in a future document. It will suffice to say here however, that there is a time and a place for each of these different variations.

After Reath we continue to try and find Surrender Ridge. This involves walking along a hill and climbing through some increasingly Crystal Maze-esque stiles/gaps in walls, in many of which Marc struggles to get through. This is indeed a comical sight. We lose sight, however of the path we are supposed to be taking and end up walking around in some woods, climbing over barbed wire and trying to find a way across a river in the dark. The search comes to an end when we find a sign aptly pointing in the direction we came from saying "Surrender." We give up and camp on top of the hill.

Before bed, Tim reads us the first chapter of HP7. Who'd have thought the Malfoy's would have albino peacocks?

SPOILERS END

* * * * * * *

Despite intending an early start we lie in and have some biscuits for breakfast, such are our supplies of food at this point. The day begins with finally getting down to the river we wanted to ford yesterday and crossing it like a bad boy. We then were able to climb a hill and bust out onto the Yorkshire Dales.

The Yorkshire Dales are epic. Again, my photos are pretty inadequate in capturing their full beauty and your best bet is to look at the ones Marc took with his other camera.

After a large area of flattish walking, we then hit a bit of a hill which turns out to be the top point of a beastly valley. At this point, Marc's ankle is hurting a fair bit so the prospect of clambering across this terrain seems more than a bit daunting. We have to do some gravel surfing to get down to the bottom where we are met with a river nearly twice the size of the one we crossed earlier. Tim bounds across this like a gazelle. The rest of us are about as able to bound across as octopi are. I turn out to be the king of the octopi as halfway across I slip a bit, windmill more than Holland and eventually have to come back after coming scarily close to falling in. It turns out that back upstream there is an easy place to cross and I bound across it like a gazelle.

We have to do a fair bit of epic climbing to reach the top of the other side of the valley. There is lots of frustrating rock throwing when we wearily reach the top. We then attempt to find our way down to the other side where the halfway stage of the journey, Keld, lies. Easier said than done.

We go the wrong way for about 10-15 or so, past some annoying trial bikers. After realising our mistake we walk back past them and are told that,

"Oh, we thought, after you'd gone I said to her I said, are you sure they're going the right way? We seen other walkers coming up from down there we 'ave."

Thanks for that. Wankers.

So we end up walking across one of the sorriest excuses for a footpath ever seen upon a hill, all of us probably feeling more than irritated at this point. It was still fairly breathtaking but at the same time you would be holding your breath as one slip up could have meant falling down into the valley, past the smug bastard train bikers and onto some nasty looking rocks.

We eventually made it down into Keld late in the afternoon. We tired, hungry and thirsty, and after some discussion we came to the conclusion that we were all also skint. The decision was made to phone my uncle who lived a few miles away if we could go to his and my dad came out to pick us up an hour later.

* * * * * * *

At his house we feasted like kings. Kings who had just watched The Machinist. We had baths. We were able to sleep in the warmth, indoors. It was close to Nirvana. I don't think I've ever slept on a comfier sofa. The next day we all got trains from various places back to London, and then back on to Ash Vale. And that was it.

* * * * * * *

I think we're definitely going to have to reattempt this next year. The Lake District remains a delicious prospect. As long as we have enough money next time to fund my enjoyment of all day breakfasts I think we'll be able to take it. It was great just feeling yourself becoming fitter as the walk went on. Taking off my rucksack and being able to sprint up hills was very enjoyable.

I foresee all of this slowly disappearing as I go to work in an office next week, being replaced with a greater appreciation of tea and staple removers. It is a shame, but a lot of things in life are similarly so.

Another shame is that I have spent most of my day writing this up instead of being outside enjoying the sunshine. Oh well. I'm going to see Transformers in a couple of hours. Hopefully that won't be a shame.

Ta for reading. I hope it was slightly entertaining.

Epic Exhibition Attempt

Tue, 10 Jul 2007 01:03:38 GMT

There's no backing out now. My walking boots have been purchased and my Megabus ticket from London to Middlesbrough has been booked. Next Monday I will be setting off on my summer adventure.

Along with my fellow comrades Marc Hankins, Tim Huzar and Graham Pether, I will be attempting to complete the Coast to Coast walk from Robin Hood Bay to St. Bees, taking on the Yorkshire Dales and the Lake District in the process. This walk is supposed to take around 2 weeks to complete and was voted the 2nd best walk to go on in the world, beaten by the 4 day Milford Sound walk in New Zealand. Take that Everest trekking!

I haven't done anything exhibitiony since Duke of Edinburgh in Year 11 and climbing Mt. Snowdon. That was back in the day when I didn't drink and played football regularly every week a few times.

I believe I may die horribly at some point between July 16th and July 30th, lost upon a forgotten hillside in a scene of great pastoral beauty. If you have anything you wish to tell me, speak now or forever hold your peace. I'm going to work at Guilfest from Thursday-Sunday with Steve Kelly and will be warming up my tent skills in a probably homoerotic fashion in preparation for the journey.

I am going to try and survive. The thought of the new Harry Potter book and film should hopefully see me through. Just no-one spoil the ending for me, ok?

For more information about why I may well perish, visit these sites:

http://www.ramblers.org.uk/info/paths/coasttocoast.html
http://www.walkingenglishman.com/coastb01.htm

P.S - In my US exam I got a first. My Chaucer exam was around 10 marks worse. Whoops. Overall score for the year - 66. Need an average of 72 next year to steal a first. Will update on what I've done since exams next time.

x

Done.

Sun, 10 Jun 2007 10:51:44 GMT

Sunday morning.

"Tomorrow's exam will be on American Literature. My texts I have "revised" (that is, re-read) are:

T.S Eliot - Four Quartets
Louise Erdich - Tracks
Tennessee Williams - Streetcar Named Desire
The poetry of William Carlos Williams.

I have 2 hours to answer two questions. One of which will be a theme-based question on any text of my choosing (choice of 6 possible questions) and one will be a critical commentary of one of 6 given extracts. I'm hoping one of these will be a WCW poem really.

I'm not really 100% ready for this one, though I am quite a long way more prepared than for Chaucer. This is why I am writing this out at near 1am. Hopefully all will be fine. I'm sure it will be. The body disagrees and thinks it's Christmas Eve 5 years ago."

The exam gave me what I wanted. First question, a WCW poem. Second question I decided to write about the significance of the figure of the outsider in Streetcar and Tracks. All well and good. The only problem was time and there was a certain amount of rushing going on throughout. Overall though, fairly safe.

This upcoming week I am going to 4 gigs.

Tuesday = Electric 6 with a variety of heroes.
Wednesday = Art Brut with Claire from uni
Saturday = Philanthropy with hopefully as many people as possible
Sunday = Muse with Matt from uni

How's that for a slice of fried gold?
28 Weeks Later and The Science of Sleep are awesome.

The other night me and my homies watched over the course of a Saturday evening 'S Club: Seeing Double', 'Mean Girls' and 'Spiceworld'. Mean Girls was a genuine class act, S Club was alright with Bradley McIntosh stealing the show, there were a couple of funny moments, Spice World was a bit of nothing really, some alright bits but the main plot didn't really have much to it. The cameos were really the best thing about it. Meatloaf, Richard E. Grant, Roger Moore and Richard O'Brien were epic. If you ever wish to see Richard O'Brien emerging from a toilet, this is the film for you. Sadly for S Club, they didn't have the budget that the Spice Girls had and so their only proper celeb was Gareth Gates. There were some amusing lookalikes however, and the song and dance routines were superb. Mean Girls was a genuine class act. I absolutely detested it first time, but with this viewing I was able to appreciate the skills of Ms. Lohan much more. I rate her very highly in the acting world, it can't be too long before the Academy takes note. Mean Girls was a genuine class act.

I've been to the toilet far too much this morning. Three times to be precise. I'm not sure why. Last night for dinner I had baked potato with mixed beans, tomatoes and lettuce. The potato was not baked properly in places. Afterwards I went to a pub for the evening with Mike, Clare, Amo, Emma, and James White. Here I believe I drank 4 or 5 pints. I did not eat anything after this. I do not understand the workings of the bowels so if anyone could enlighten me as to why I have been to the toilet so often this morning it would be very much appreciated.

Going to see Hot Fuzz for the first time tonight. I feel as though I'm the only person in Britain who hasn't seen it yet. Although my housemate Matt hasn't. That completely contradicted the initial statement.

This is my last day in Exeter for a week or so. Going to play football and kick some ass.

Insomnia

Tue, 05 Jun 2007 00:01:15 GMT

The night before my last exam.

First things first.

The sandwich was basic, yet delicious.
The FA Cup final was abysmally boring. More boring than Scotland - Austria a few days ago.

Right, Easter:

Easter was properly awesome. It began promisingly with me playing an 11-a-side football match alongside Ally and his brothers (we won 2-1) and never really looked back. I was working Monday - Wednesday for half of it, but this was useful as it stopped me from a) spending days doing absolutely nothing, and b) building up very necessary money for uni. It is weird thinking about how I would be if I hadn't got this job.
Fun activity wise, there was hella loads of shit that went down. The main thing was birthdays. There were celebrations for Steve, Clare, Amo but most importantly, meeeeeeeeee, where I got horrendously drunk and threw up in a nettle bush for a while and took 6 times as long to get home from the pub. Glorious. The other birthdays also involved lots of drinking as well as visiting London and going to Gala Bingo. Gala Bingo is amazing.
We played a gig at the Storm club in Leicester Square which turned out fairly awesomely. I have just now decided that from now on I shall make an effort to stick around at gigs we play to watch other bands instead of leaving after we finish. I ought to really do this at every gig but I feel as though I haven't recently. This might just be me remembering things wrongly. Also band relatedly, we made a music video for our deep and meaningful song, Conflict and Succession. It is beautiful. If you search for it on Youtube you will find it and be blessed.
I saw (relatively randomly) CocoRosie with Tim and Phillipa and Loaf and I was blown away. It was a very random gig. The first group came on with a black person blowing up balloons and playing some music on a keyboard/sampler, followed after a while by a woman with a large stuffed rabbit. She was called Bunny Girl. The second support was an awesome beatboxer called Tez who later on was the "drummer" for CocoRosie. CocoRosie themselves blew me away. I hadn't listened to them particularly much before hand and I wish I had. The live versions of their songs have such different twists largely forced upon them and I reckon hearing the originals fully prior to the gig would have enabled a much greater appreciation. As it was, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I had spent the rest of the day walking from Waterloo to Shepherd's Bush with Amo, and had dinner in a cafe near the venue with her, so the whole day was pretty awesomegood.
There were also spots of drinking, laserquest, random adventures and spots of football which were also good fun. I think I have covered the general smoothness of the holiday though. Apologies if I have missed anything really significant.

I have my final exam tomorrow. My first one (Chaucer) was alright. Competent, not mind-blowing, and with a cringeworthy sentimental conclusion. Imagine the ending to 'The Real Slim Shady' where Dr. Dre says, "I guess there's a Slim Shady in all of us... let's all stand up..." in the form of a Chaucer essay conclusion. That is what I managed to create. Tomorrow's exam will be on American Literature. My texts I have "revised" (that is, re-read) are:

T.S Eliot - Four Quartets
Louise Erdich - Tracks
Tennessee Williams - Streetcar Named Desire
The poetry of William Carlos Williams.

I have 2 hours to answer two questions. One of which will be a theme-based question on any text of my choosing (choice of 6 possible questions) and one will be a critical commentary of one of 6 given extracts. I'm hoping one of these will be a WCW poem really.

I'm not really 100% ready for this one, though I am quite a long way more prepared than for Chaucer. This is why I am writing this out at near 1am. Hopefully all will be fine. I'm sure it will be. The body disagrees and thinks it's Christmas Eve 5 years ago.

Overdue

Sat, 19 May 2007 11:22:05 GMT

This is going to be lame.

I realise I haven't written anything on this in ages.

I want to document how awesome my Easter was. Most people around here when asked whether they had a good Easter or not replied, "it was alright," so having an awesome Easter seems pretty special. It was about 4 weeks ago now though, which is it a bit annoying.

I would write this up now, but the FA Cup final is on later and I'm supposed to be going over to a mate's house to watch it. I would go down and get breakfast but the kitchen hasn't been cleaned from last night and I don't want to do it. I did it yesterday morning. That's a bit selfish I know, but also very cowardly. I really shouldn't care. I really should go and make that sausage sandwich I want.

I think I will in a second.

First though, this seems like a good time to bring to peoples' attentions that there are plans to remake (or make a prequel for) Escape From New York. Gerard Butler (Leonidas in 300) would be playing Snake. I'm not sure what to think about this. I get the feeling they're going to miss the point of the original with any form of remake. The remake of Assault on Precinct 13 was supposedly shit compared to the original. The original 'Assault' was actually an awesome film as well, so I dread to think what a new 'Escape' would end up like.

We shall see.

Yeah, I'm going to go get that sandwich.

Oops

Mon, 02 Apr 2007 19:38:51 GMT

Monday evening

I just remembered that on Thursday night I licked the hand dryer in the pub toilets. Urgh.

Miscellaneous

Sat, 10 Mar 2007 01:20:00 GMT

Friday night again.

Yeah, seen some gigs.

Reuben @ The Cavern.

Was really impressed, they put on a very entertaining show, both musically and through their other antics. The two highlights were a Nirvana cover (the one on Nevermind that goes, "monkey see, monkey do") and getting a Reuben tribute band to come on stage to do a song. Those guys were so chuffed.

Ash @ Lemon Grove.

This was a sweet piece of flesh which definitely made up for me missing out on E6. They played a near perfect set IMO with these songs in there:

Petrol
Lose Control
Goldfinger
Girl From Mars
Kung Fu
Oh Yeah
Angel Interceptor
A Life Less Ordinary
Walking Barefoot
Burn Baby Burn
Orpheus
Renegade Cavalcade
Vampire Love
4 or so new songs

Seriously awesome. I was hoping they'd play lots and lots from 1977 and was very happy with what they gave us. Only Darkside Lightside could have improved that little selection.

Exam results were:
c20th Modernism etc - 68
c18th Sex and Sensibility - 66 (i think)

Another boring post out the way.

SmoothGay

Sat, 10 Mar 2007 01:10:23 GMT

Friday night.

Veni Vidi Vici.

The setlist was:

Death of a Parson
Scunthorpe 1789
Poo (Happy Bunny cover)
I Want Ice Cream
Camel Toe
Sally
Generic Indie Song #4
Pastronaut

We were so good that we've been asked to play again at the first ever Catfish formal on Thursday. Thursday will be come Thrustday. Pelvic Thrustday.

Jack Bauer time

Fri, 09 Feb 2007 16:00:39 GMT

Friday afternoon.

SmoothGay have just been given a gig at the Catfish party tomorrow night. Catfish is the Uni Indie Society.

We now have 24 hours to write a set.

James is for Heroes

Fri, 09 Feb 2007 03:04:11 GMT

ThursTonight/FriThis morning

Saw Hell is for Heroes at the Cavern tonight. They were the first "big" band I've seen play there and it was crazy. There were crowdsurfers and sweat was dripping off the roof. I get sweaty enough just dancing in there so jumping around like a featler was always going to be a moist experience. I could only really go for two songs in the midst of the whirlwind.

The set included, as well as many new songs:

Five Kids Go
Nightvision
Few Against Many
Three Of Clubs
I Can Climb Mountains
You Drove Me To It
Sick Happy
Kamichi
Models For The Programme
Folded Paper Figures
One Of Us
Boys Don't Cry

The cover of Boys Don't Cry was nearly incredibly ironic as I was about to weep upon hearing it. However, Justin decided to crowd surf whilst singing in a Spiderman-esque pose with both hands and feet touching the ceiling. Magical. He has to be the smallest front man I've ever seen though. I reckon I could take him in a fight pretty easily.

My assessed essays came back ages ago and I was a bit disappointed. The marks were (with previous unassessed essay score in brackets):

20th Century - Modernism, Anti-Modernism and Post-Modernism: 66 (70)
18th Century - Sex and Sensibility: 64 (66)

So much for meritocracy. My exams I felt were pretty awesome though, so fingers crossed they can take me to the promised land.

This was a serious entry. Normal service resumed next time.

Walrus of Steel

Fri, 02 Feb 2007 19:01:58 GMT

The walrus of steel
gazes

AT YOU!!!

Museum of Lies

Tue, 30 Jan 2007 14:49:04 GMT

Shit

Upon the crux

A piece of ***** glory.

End this linefullstop

A period

BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODfullstop

!start agaiN

"When I was a young boy my father took me into the city to see a marching band."

WALRUS2007