We've mothballed this blog so it just relates to the trip down under.
If you want to know what we're up to these days, find us at www.plansforyesterday.com
So long and thanks for looking...
Sunday, 4 November 2007
Sunday, 4 March 2007
You couldn't make it up...
So, about this time last year we were holidaying up in the Lake District and the gearbox in my car (a '98 Ford Scorpio Ultima) decided to let go. We had no reverse and only 2 forward gears but somehow managed to coax the old girl home. A suitable replacement 'box was located and installed by the wonderful team at Auto-Mo-Beel who also installed a new exhaust system and performed various other acts of fettling to get her through the MOT. Another day, another Caribbean holiday for Viv and Kate (owners of A-M-B).
Fast forward 10 months and Ali gets the thing stuck in the village floods. Fortunately, the very very nice RAC man managed to get it started (the car, not Ali) and, once again, Viv gave it a once-over and pronounced all to be well. Not much involved that time, though I think Kate probably got a night in a cheap B&B out of it.
Two months later, I'm back from Australia and on my way to work in Braunton, when the replacement gearbox blows up. Fortunately, eBay delivers a gem of a replacement (that's done 60,000 miles less than the rest of the car) and said item and the car are delivered (slowly) to Viv.
After agreeing to this year's Jamaica tickets with Viv, I collected the car, now of course replete with the aforementioned virginal transmission last Monday and it drove impeccably. Until Thursday, that is, when it broke down outside the computer store in Torrington, having succumbed to some electrical fault to do with an oujemaflip that made a thingy do something that stopped the starter motor from working.
Mr Mechanic (sorry, Technician) Beel arrived promptly at the scene (and who wouldn't when an upgrade to First Class was the likely outcome?) and with a little help from the RAC's banger-shifting department got the car back to the workshop.
Friday morning I get a wonderful telephone call informing me that not only was the car fixed, but no parts had been required. A result, especially when Viv said that they would be happy to settle for Business Class this time. Glorious trouble-free motoring was mine again!
Come Saturday morning, all was still magnificent on the motor front and it was with a light heart and a spring in our step that we all headed up to Cribbs Causeway shopping mall at Bristol to indulge in some retail therapy (having some money left thanks to Viv's generosity on his travel requirements). Whereupon we got slammed up the arse by a Volkswagen, thus rendering the rear of the car, er, fucked.
The insurance company think it may well be a write-off. Either way, I'm sure Viv and Kate are going to have a great time on their world cruise later in the year. Apparantly, they can hop on in Jamaica, which at least saves the cost of two return flights, I suppose.
Compressed into a 3 minute sketch, I think this little story could fill a void within some BBC2 comedy or other. What do you think?
Fast forward 10 months and Ali gets the thing stuck in the village floods. Fortunately, the very very nice RAC man managed to get it started (the car, not Ali) and, once again, Viv gave it a once-over and pronounced all to be well. Not much involved that time, though I think Kate probably got a night in a cheap B&B out of it.
Two months later, I'm back from Australia and on my way to work in Braunton, when the replacement gearbox blows up. Fortunately, eBay delivers a gem of a replacement (that's done 60,000 miles less than the rest of the car) and said item and the car are delivered (slowly) to Viv.
After agreeing to this year's Jamaica tickets with Viv, I collected the car, now of course replete with the aforementioned virginal transmission last Monday and it drove impeccably. Until Thursday, that is, when it broke down outside the computer store in Torrington, having succumbed to some electrical fault to do with an oujemaflip that made a thingy do something that stopped the starter motor from working.
Mr Mechanic (sorry, Technician) Beel arrived promptly at the scene (and who wouldn't when an upgrade to First Class was the likely outcome?) and with a little help from the RAC's banger-shifting department got the car back to the workshop.
Friday morning I get a wonderful telephone call informing me that not only was the car fixed, but no parts had been required. A result, especially when Viv said that they would be happy to settle for Business Class this time. Glorious trouble-free motoring was mine again!
Come Saturday morning, all was still magnificent on the motor front and it was with a light heart and a spring in our step that we all headed up to Cribbs Causeway shopping mall at Bristol to indulge in some retail therapy (having some money left thanks to Viv's generosity on his travel requirements). Whereupon we got slammed up the arse by a Volkswagen, thus rendering the rear of the car, er, fucked.
The insurance company think it may well be a write-off. Either way, I'm sure Viv and Kate are going to have a great time on their world cruise later in the year. Apparantly, they can hop on in Jamaica, which at least saves the cost of two return flights, I suppose.
Compressed into a 3 minute sketch, I think this little story could fill a void within some BBC2 comedy or other. What do you think?
Tuesday, 23 January 2007
Livid
So posting resumes somewhat sooner that anticipated.
I am one fucking livid boy this morning. Just catching up on yesterday's newspaper and stunned to read a report in The Times about a 31-year old woman smoker who was unable to purchase cigarettes at her local store in Cambridge because the shop assistant was Muslim and it was against her religion to sell tobacco.
W H Smith, you are truly arseholes. Having been quoted as saying "The Customer should have realised the assistant was Muslim and would not sell tobacco", one can reach no other conclusion.
Fuck Off. Just FUCK OFF. How much more of this fucking shit are we going to put up with in this pissing country?
Now I don't care if you're Muslim, Jew, Catholic, Pink, Orange, Welsh or even fucking Martian - if you want a job in a store and some or all of that employment requires selling things that you don't approve of then, and concentrate now because here's a clue, EITHER DON'T TAKE THE FUCKING JOB OR DO AS YOU'RE FUCKING TOLD. Jesus Christ.
No doubt some will accuse me of racism (which I'm not by the way, some of my best friends are Martians); others of ignorance toward Goddish beliefs. Well, if that's you, you can fuck off as well. If you can't see the absurdity of this situation without turning it into a race/religious argument, then you're obviously ideally suited for a management position within WH Smith and I wish you the best of luck.
Phew. I count 8 Fuck or Fuck derivatives as well as one arsehole and a Jesus Christ. That's a lot for 6 paragraphs, even for me.
Told you I was angry.
Am I right or am I right? Comments welcome...
I am one fucking livid boy this morning. Just catching up on yesterday's newspaper and stunned to read a report in The Times about a 31-year old woman smoker who was unable to purchase cigarettes at her local store in Cambridge because the shop assistant was Muslim and it was against her religion to sell tobacco.
W H Smith, you are truly arseholes. Having been quoted as saying "The Customer should have realised the assistant was Muslim and would not sell tobacco", one can reach no other conclusion.
Fuck Off. Just FUCK OFF. How much more of this fucking shit are we going to put up with in this pissing country?
Now I don't care if you're Muslim, Jew, Catholic, Pink, Orange, Welsh or even fucking Martian - if you want a job in a store and some or all of that employment requires selling things that you don't approve of then, and concentrate now because here's a clue, EITHER DON'T TAKE THE FUCKING JOB OR DO AS YOU'RE FUCKING TOLD. Jesus Christ.
No doubt some will accuse me of racism (which I'm not by the way, some of my best friends are Martians); others of ignorance toward Goddish beliefs. Well, if that's you, you can fuck off as well. If you can't see the absurdity of this situation without turning it into a race/religious argument, then you're obviously ideally suited for a management position within WH Smith and I wish you the best of luck.
Phew. I count 8 Fuck or Fuck derivatives as well as one arsehole and a Jesus Christ. That's a lot for 6 paragraphs, even for me.
Told you I was angry.
Am I right or am I right? Comments welcome...
Thursday, 18 January 2007
We must be home
Like the man said tho', better get used to it son, 'cos it looks like it's here to stay. Sigh. Even one of the trees on the hillside wood opposite the mill gave up earlier and came crashing down before our eyes. RIP.
Still, before more whinging about life back in UKLand, there's the last couple of days in Hong Kong to catch up on.
Stanley market on Monday was OK; not nearly as much fun as doing deals in Mong Kok, but the town was a nice enough place to spend a few hours. Ali & I met Hoopy down there about mid-day and stayed for about 3 hours before heading back over to Kowloon to go see tailor George for my fittings. Everything pretty much spot on first time there, so 'twas only 15 minutes or so before we once again met at the Peninsula for another couple of G&T's.
We stayed Kowloon side for the evening, grabbing a quick burger at MickeyD's for less than HK$45 (£3) for the three of us before heading off to show Hoopy the Mong Kok market (sadly no invitations to dubious residences to view counterfeit goods this time, tho' we still managed to acquire a couple of nice Bvlgari and Gucci watches by way of young female 'runners' from a couple of the stalls) before heading to Temple Street and the night market. Pretty much Mong Kok under floodlight and a little bit of an anti-climax to be honest.
Monday evening saw us taking up residence at the local Irish pub in Nathan Road, where we got chatting to a guy called Mark from Los Angeles who's spent the last quarter of his life living and working around Asia. Fairly eclectic conversation ensued for the rest of the evening, covering topics such as sport, President Goofy & Prime Minister Arselicker and the very heterogeneous culture of the Japanese. Perhaps understandably after that lot, alcohol finally got the better of us (well, me, anyway) around midnight.
Tuesday we once again made for Kowloon before lunch (at TGI Friday's, walking along the "avenue of stars" on the way) so I could pick up my new rags from George and grab a couple of bits from the nearby electronics store. Weighed under with English Wool, Italian silk and Sony's latest, we made our way back over to Hong Kong Island and to our respective hotels to pack. That done, we got glammed up (sadly [luckily?], no photographic evedince of our beauty that evening exists as the camera battery died) and headed down to Aberdeen for a most excellent evening aboard the Jumbo floating restaurant, who can count amongst their 30 million previous customers no less than John Wayne and Queen Lizzy herself. Most excellent fodder and blow-your-head-off cocktails consisting of Vodka, Cointreau, Southern Comfort, Cassis and Orange Juice of which Ali had two. Greedy cow.
Come 23:00, it was once again time to jump in a taxi (my Cantonese got no better the whole holiday - they all understood my less than acceptable English) and head home. Only this time it really was heading home, as it was back to the hotels, a quick 3 hour snooze then to the airport for the long flight back to London.
We took off half an hour late (Chinese air traffic control problem, apparantly), but pretty much made up the time and touched down 13 uncomfortable hours later at 14:00 British time in the cold at Heathrow. Black cab dash to sister-in-law Carol's to get the car, then a 4 hour journey back to Devon arriving at Chateau Lemmings at 22:00 after depositing Hoopy at his gaff on the way.
So there you have it. 33 blog entries down and that's Australia and Hong Kong done. Something a little less challenging looms next (we already knew we'd need a holiday to get over this one) - as things stand at the moment, 8 of us are heading over to the Balearics sometime in April/May for a few days of sun kissed lazing.
Meantime, there's work to be done and bills to pay. I've got three more "days off" (though I've already spent about 7 hours catching up on work admin & emails) before placing the snot container back against the spinning granite slab on Monday. Sleep will doubtless factor somewhere along the way, as will a few pints over at the Presse. Rude not to show one's face fairly soon given the length of absence, don't you think?
It's been, er, fun (I think) keeping this diary. It'll certainly prove useful to me in times to come, when I've forgotton everything we did over the past couple of months!
And I really need to say a big thank-you to Hoopy, who's made this holiday much more fun and entertaining that it might otherwise have been - that is of course when he's not been totally frustrating and a pain in the arse ;-). Cheers mate - people are going to be really unhappy that we've come back friends! Nothing for the village gossips - I promise not to tell them your big secret if you don't tell them mine...
Right now, that's it. Unlikely to be anything new here now for the next few days/months/years depending on what happens. So I'll leave you with a picture of Hoops & I that Ali took at Warner Brothers in Queensland back in November (God that seems *soooo* long ago...) which brings things nicely to a close:
Until the next time, farewell!
Monday, 15 January 2007
The Wrong Day in Hong Kong
I see that Friday the 13th fell on a Saturday this month. How very rude.Time is flying by at an extremely rapid rate. We spent a fairly decent last couple of days in Sydney - the trip up into the Blue Mountains was excellent - we visited Leura, went in the skyway cable car and descended into the rain forest on the scenic railway - the world's steepest railway, at one point being a 52 degree incline. Originally donkey powered and used to bring the coal up from the old mines, it's now electric driven and shunts visitors up and down to the forest floor. After that, we lunched at the RSL (ex-servicemans) club in Katoomba before returning to Sydney via a wildlife park where there were albino Kangaroos bouncing around, not to mention an extremely lazy Crocodile. Stupid thing didn't move an inch all the time we were there.
Thursday we took the ferry across Sydney harbour to Manly - a much, much, much better beach than Bondi - IMHO anyway - though bloody busy and not somewhere I personally would spend very much time. The smaller beach at the wharf was much more my cup of tea. Bloody good fish restaurant as well, Hoopy tucking into Lemon Sole whilst I had quite possibly the biggest salmon fillet ever served. Yum.
Come the evening, the time came to climb the bridge. We checked in around 18:30 and started to get kitted out a little after 19:00. Having done the pre-climb briefings, we ventured out onto the bridge around 19:40 - a perfect time, as it was just starting to think about getting dark. You walk along the internals of the bridge for a couple of hundred metres before popping out (between two lanes of highway!) by the vertical climb ladders to get to the arch itself. This process was by far the hardest bit - there's lots of *small* gaps that you need to squeeze through, which is not terribly straightforward for someone 6'6" (198.12cm) and 250lbs (113Kg) like myself, but hey ho I managed. Once on the arch itself, it's easy. Just like walking up a (very gentle) staircase.
The view from the summit is breathtaking - by the time we got there it was dark and, like most cities, Sydney looks fantastic by neon. We spent 10 minutes or so at the top having photos etc. before then descending via the other arch and re-tracing our steps back to the changing rooms. All in all the climb lasted about 3.5 hours - and is definitely on the "must do" list for anyone visiting Sydney.
Friday was travel day. A very relaxed start for us - we didn't even get up until 10:00 (by which time Ali had been in the air from London for an hour!) - taking our time to pack (cases are starting to burst at the seams now - we've both spent far too much money) before heading off to the airport. Straightforward flight into Hong Kong (but on a Boeing rather than an Airbus, so extremely noisy) followed by a HK$470 cab ride to the hotels. We dropped Hoopy off first at the Renaissance Harbour View (in the Wan Chai district and extremely posh - God knows what he's doing there), before I carried on to the less posh Novotel Century in the Western District, where Ali had been ensconced in the room for 4 hours already.
Keen not to waste the very limited time we have here in HK, we were up reasonably early (considering we were all bloody knackered) on Saturday and headed straight to the shops, wanting to check out 'proper' prices before hitting the markets over the next couple of days. We spent a few hours in and around Pacific Place in the Admiralty district; Ali especially in her element wandering around the top brand stores. Didn't spend too much (money is much better spent in the markets) but couldn't turn down Reebok trainers for 12 quid a pair.
Saturday night we had a couple of beers at Hoopy's hotel, but then had to leave as I was about to insert a microphone up the singer's arse sideways. She had, quite possibly, the most unsuitable repertoire ever for a screech-kitten (including Dylan songs, for fuck sake!) not to mention a pianiast who makes the bald chap off the Letterman show look talented. Ugh. Anyhow, we headed right next door to JJ's bar in the Grand Hyatt, which was much more civilised, though somewhat lacking in illumination and atmosphere. Plenty of staff mind you, including the three that shuttle you to-and-from the toilet, not to mention the chap IN the toilet who turns the taps on and off, presses the button to get you soap and hands you a pressed linen towel to dry your hands. I was somewhat relieved to discover that he offers no assistance during the passing phase itself...
Ali and I headed back around 21:30, leaving Hoopy to his own devices which, as usual, proved rather too explosive and involved the location of a British pub (The Horse & Groom) and the consumption therein of mucho piss (which is what every Australian calls what they call beer and we call lager). Therefore on Sunday, obviously, Hoopy stayed in bed all day.
Whilst he was catching up on zeds, Ali and I crossed the harbour on the Star Ferry to Kowloon and hit the streets, starting with the Apliu Street flea market before heading into a market proper in Mong Kok. Wow! Anything you could possibly want (apart from Jules' handbag, which apparantly is too new to be available - sorry Chandi). Not only is anything and everything non-branded hanging up to buy, but should you spot (and it's not hard to do) a catalogue on the trader's table, you can browse through for branded products of your choice. Should you show an interest (and we did, often), you're escorted into a nearby building and up into an apartment which is simply a collection of rooms filled, floor-to-ceiling, with handbags, watches, wallets, jewellery etc. etc. As I said to Ali, this would be extremely frightening if you didn't a) speak English or Cantonese or b) hadn't read in a guidebook that this is the expected process. A quality experience - we grabbed loads and for bugger all really. I was barganing hard (NEVER pay the quoted price) and usually managed to get 30-50% off their already discounted prices. In one instance, I got a $280 bag down to $150, which is a UKLand tenner. If you're reading this, Mandy, that's your daughter taken care of!
After doing that for a few hours, we were pretty exhausted and headed off to the uber-posh Peninsula Hotel for drinks. The hotel is stunning and has just taken delivery of 14 new Rolls Royce motor cars (all painted British racing green) to ferry their guests around. No wonder this was the place the Japanese took over as their HQ in WWII. After an hour nursing down a couple a couple of G&T's (and enjoying yet more 'personal services' in the toilets) we left to go and see my new mate George at La Elite tailors to get measured up for some new clobber. Going back later today for the fittings, with my stuff then being ready lunchtime tomorrow. Excellent.
Now we're off to meet Hoopy at Stanley Street market. Look out traders, I'm on my way.
Tuesday, 9 January 2007
Sorting Out
Just a couple of days left in Sydney (& Australia) now, so it's been time to sort out matters administrative - laundry, money, shopping, packing etc. prior to Hong Kong.
Aside from that, we've not done much the last couple of days -- we ventured out to Bondi Beach for a few hours yesterday -- nice to get a tick on the form (and a couple of photos of lovely ladies), but to be honest it's pretty underwhelming. We have better beaches with far superior surroundings within a few miles of home. We're going to check out the beach at Manly on Thursday - hopefully that'll be a bit more inspiring!
Hoopy took himself off for a few hours this morning to go up the Sydney Tower (the second highest in the Southern Hemisphere, apparently) whilst I took the opportunity to catnap as I did not sleep well last night for some reason.
Tonight sees our last cricket - the Twenty20 international. Could we possibly get to see England win a game on this tour? We'll see.
Tomorrow we're off on another blue-rinse bus tour, this time visiting the blue mountains and a few other places en route. Our last planned activity is the harbour bridge climb on Thursday evening, after which I suspect we'll down a few beers and crash as Friday we're up, out, in the air and meeting Ali in Hong Kong.
Aside from that, we've not done much the last couple of days -- we ventured out to Bondi Beach for a few hours yesterday -- nice to get a tick on the form (and a couple of photos of lovely ladies), but to be honest it's pretty underwhelming. We have better beaches with far superior surroundings within a few miles of home. We're going to check out the beach at Manly on Thursday - hopefully that'll be a bit more inspiring!
Hoopy took himself off for a few hours this morning to go up the Sydney Tower (the second highest in the Southern Hemisphere, apparently) whilst I took the opportunity to catnap as I did not sleep well last night for some reason.
Tonight sees our last cricket - the Twenty20 international. Could we possibly get to see England win a game on this tour? We'll see.
Tomorrow we're off on another blue-rinse bus tour, this time visiting the blue mountains and a few other places en route. Our last planned activity is the harbour bridge climb on Thursday evening, after which I suspect we'll down a few beers and crash as Friday we're up, out, in the air and meeting Ali in Hong Kong.
Sunday, 7 January 2007
Over a week
How the hell it can be the 7th of January already I have no idea. We've been in Sydney for over a week now and time's flown by. Not that we've actually *done* that much since we've been here, but the seemingly never-ending social commitments have conspired not only to keep us active but also to steal many morning hours. This time next week we'll be having our second breakfast in Hong Kong and two weeks from now we'll have been back in UKLand for 4 days. Sigh.
Everyone in Australia thinks I'm older than Hoopy. It was bad enough in Melbourne when I kept getting my beer served in a Jug (Hoopy always getting a straight glass), but the icing on the cake was last night when Giles announced that had he not been told otherwise, he would have said I was the older. Sigh. Oh well, at least I'll get people giving up their seats on the bus for me before too long.
Thursday night with Sue & Bob Barter was fun, as was Friday's show at the Opera House. We didn't do very much yesterday other than shopping (we're obviously getting very in touch with our feminine sides) and an entire loop of the city on the monorail. Ended up down at the waterside pub (again) down in Darling Harbour about 19:30 where followed the continual supply and consumption of various beverages for many hours. I ducked out about 01:30 - Hoopy & Gilesleft at 02:30, with Giles heading off to bed and Hoops back to Cheers bar to watch the Liverpool-Arsenal FA cup game. He got in about 07:00, announced he felt wide awake then promptly crashed and was still driving them home when I left the hotel a couple of hours ago. No doubt he'll wake up at some point today. He's bound to be in a bad mood mind you, apparently Arsenal won 3-1. Which will make the real Ian Chandler very happy indeed.
Nothing else to report, so time for some photos from New Year's Eve, two of which, obviously, are just a massive ego trip for Hoopy:
Everyone in Australia thinks I'm older than Hoopy. It was bad enough in Melbourne when I kept getting my beer served in a Jug (Hoopy always getting a straight glass), but the icing on the cake was last night when Giles announced that had he not been told otherwise, he would have said I was the older. Sigh. Oh well, at least I'll get people giving up their seats on the bus for me before too long.
Thursday night with Sue & Bob Barter was fun, as was Friday's show at the Opera House. We didn't do very much yesterday other than shopping (we're obviously getting very in touch with our feminine sides) and an entire loop of the city on the monorail. Ended up down at the waterside pub (again) down in Darling Harbour about 19:30 where followed the continual supply and consumption of various beverages for many hours. I ducked out about 01:30 - Hoopy & Gilesleft at 02:30, with Giles heading off to bed and Hoops back to Cheers bar to watch the Liverpool-Arsenal FA cup game. He got in about 07:00, announced he felt wide awake then promptly crashed and was still driving them home when I left the hotel a couple of hours ago. No doubt he'll wake up at some point today. He's bound to be in a bad mood mind you, apparently Arsenal won 3-1. Which will make the real Ian Chandler very happy indeed.
Nothing else to report, so time for some photos from New Year's Eve, two of which, obviously, are just a massive ego trip for Hoopy:
A couple from dinner with Sue & Bob:
And finally a couple to prove to Chandler that we really aren't in a hotel in Bognor:
Thursday, 4 January 2007
Cloned
Got a text message from Virgin yesterday suggesting that my credit card had shown some 'unusual' spending and could I please get in touch. I did so and it would appear that some sneaky bastard fuck of an Australian has, at some point, cloned the thing. Fortunately, the amounts involved are not huge (~200 quid) and I have zero liability for the fraudulent transactions. Apparently, I purchased some stuff in a Home Depot somewhere in the American mid-west yesterday, whilst at the same time purchasing some confectionery in York, England (both very hard to do when you're in Sydney, Australia at the time) and placing an order on the Internet to a company called Marlo (sounds like a 1970's porn star), whoever they are.
The funniest thing was that they guy at the bank was reading the list of dubious transactions to me and highlighted one for "BP in St Helens". I had to laugh - it would seem that scousers are trusted nowhere on the planet! As it happens, that was a perfectly legitimate spend, this particular St Helens being in North East Tasmania.
Full marks to Virgin - problem identified and rectified within 2 hours. Of course, the card has been cancelled which means I'm without, but it doesn't really cause me any problem. I've still got a couple of bank accounts to pilfer. In any event, it's not like I'm going to be without it long as Ali is coming to Hong Kong next week to meet us on our way home so can bring the replacement with her. Contact her to place your orders for contraband...
The funniest thing was that they guy at the bank was reading the list of dubious transactions to me and highlighted one for "BP in St Helens". I had to laugh - it would seem that scousers are trusted nowhere on the planet! As it happens, that was a perfectly legitimate spend, this particular St Helens being in North East Tasmania.
Full marks to Virgin - problem identified and rectified within 2 hours. Of course, the card has been cancelled which means I'm without, but it doesn't really cause me any problem. I've still got a couple of bank accounts to pilfer. In any event, it's not like I'm going to be without it long as Ali is coming to Hong Kong next week to meet us on our way home so can bring the replacement with her. Contact her to place your orders for contraband...
S'funny about the card incident really - just the other day I was reading Phil's post about his being cloned and thought at the time I was probably in a minority having had the things for 18 years now and never a problem. Oh well. I'm far too relaxed for it to even register on the radar.
Once again, I've ducked out of cricket today (our new mate Giles swapped some dosh for my ticket last night) to go wandering. Spent the morning chilling out around Darling Harbour prior to taking a water taxi round under the Harbour Bridge to the Opera House. Very nice lunch on Circular Quay (I heartily recommend a glass or two of New Zealand Bay Hill Chardonnay by the way) then a wander back up through the botanic gardens and the NSW State Library, which presently has an exhibition running dedicated to those silly sods who, having been sent here (for free!) from England decided to try and escape. Fools.
Tonight is dinner with Sue & Bob Barter so I'd better go put my posh frock on. Can't be having the clients thinking I'm a scruff now can we? Oh hang on. They already know this to be true. Ripped jeans and t-shirt it is then...
Wednesday, 3 January 2007
Hoops he did it again
"I feel like a c*nt" were Hoopy's first words to me yesterday. Whether this was a statement of mental situation or a physical desire I'm not quite sure, though I suspect the former as the words were uttered with regard to the fact that he'd missed the first day's cricket at Sydney by being asleep. Mind you, that was understandable given that the dirty stopout didn't get in until about 2 hours past daylight on Tuesday morning, having spent about 8 hours in Cheers overnight watching three UK premiership soccer games and therefore consuming a larger number than normal of the associated beverages.
Being a much more sensible person (not to mention bleeding knackered after NYE and a general lack of sleep over the past week or so), I retired gracefully at midnight and therefore did get up and head off to the SCG for the first day's play. My gound report? Well, once you're seated the ground looks great. Not quite as intimate as Adelaide, but retaining much of the English county ground feel, with the striking city skyline as a backdrop behind the member's pavilion.
Unfortunately, that's where the good vibe begins and ends. The area behind the stands within the ground's boundary are tiny, requiring you to participate in a gridlocked queuing system anytime one requires something so mundane as a pee, drink or, most importantly, a traditional Aussie meat pie. Worse, the policepersons here have absolutely zero sense of humour (the female officers being of the fat lesbian miserable bitch variety in particular) and, the piece de resistance, you can't leave the ground and come back in. Zero passout policy they call it - I call it complete and utter bollocks. I've paid for a day's ticket, who the fuck do these wankers think they are telling me I can't them come and go as I please? Obviously they don't have the intelligence to realise that letting people out of the ground at lunch would not only ease their internal congestion problems but also have people in a much happier mood, thus reducing the likelyhood of one of thier stewards being inserted in the horiontal up the (doubtless already stretched) anus of another. Grrr.
On a lighter note, Hoopy has bumped into yet another friend from back home - this time Grenville from Buckland Brewer. Not planned at all - he literally walked in front of us in Hyde Park the first day we were here. So that's two meets to Hoopy against my one. And just when I thought I had I chance of getting even, having arranged to meet the lovely Sue (who works at a client site and is also here for a holiday) and her husband for dinner tomorrow evening, it turns our that Hoopy plays darts withBob back home and so will tag along to make the score 3-2.
Fun night last night - back in Cheers (I'm starting to notice a trend with our evening entertainment) where we managed to get loads more pictures of girls (Hoopy having his 40th birthday has certain advantages - seems nobody can resist 'making his day'!) and also met up with a damn decent chap called Giles from Plymouth, who already knows the legend of Kenny Wheeler. These events conspired, as usual, to ensure that we drank far more than intended with the net result that we both overslept this morning. Never mind - we'll go to cricket after lunch...
Being a much more sensible person (not to mention bleeding knackered after NYE and a general lack of sleep over the past week or so), I retired gracefully at midnight and therefore did get up and head off to the SCG for the first day's play. My gound report? Well, once you're seated the ground looks great. Not quite as intimate as Adelaide, but retaining much of the English county ground feel, with the striking city skyline as a backdrop behind the member's pavilion.
Unfortunately, that's where the good vibe begins and ends. The area behind the stands within the ground's boundary are tiny, requiring you to participate in a gridlocked queuing system anytime one requires something so mundane as a pee, drink or, most importantly, a traditional Aussie meat pie. Worse, the policepersons here have absolutely zero sense of humour (the female officers being of the fat lesbian miserable bitch variety in particular) and, the piece de resistance, you can't leave the ground and come back in. Zero passout policy they call it - I call it complete and utter bollocks. I've paid for a day's ticket, who the fuck do these wankers think they are telling me I can't them come and go as I please? Obviously they don't have the intelligence to realise that letting people out of the ground at lunch would not only ease their internal congestion problems but also have people in a much happier mood, thus reducing the likelyhood of one of thier stewards being inserted in the horiontal up the (doubtless already stretched) anus of another. Grrr.
On a lighter note, Hoopy has bumped into yet another friend from back home - this time Grenville from Buckland Brewer. Not planned at all - he literally walked in front of us in Hyde Park the first day we were here. So that's two meets to Hoopy against my one. And just when I thought I had I chance of getting even, having arranged to meet the lovely Sue (who works at a client site and is also here for a holiday) and her husband for dinner tomorrow evening, it turns our that Hoopy plays darts withBob back home and so will tag along to make the score 3-2.
Fun night last night - back in Cheers (I'm starting to notice a trend with our evening entertainment) where we managed to get loads more pictures of girls (Hoopy having his 40th birthday has certain advantages - seems nobody can resist 'making his day'!) and also met up with a damn decent chap called Giles from Plymouth, who already knows the legend of Kenny Wheeler. These events conspired, as usual, to ensure that we drank far more than intended with the net result that we both overslept this morning. Never mind - we'll go to cricket after lunch...
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