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Work

The Tom "TFC NFO" work soiree last night – beers and curry in Moseley. Hammered. Ended up in the Cross after a spiffing curry at K2. but was absolutely hammered by the time i got there. Me and the other 2 marketing guys had a bit of a mad half hour in spoons where we nailed a load of bottles and shots. Got chatting to the barmaid who was eagerly selling us banana sambuca – although despite much haggling she wouldn’t do us a deal on the scones (which were on display on the bar). My haggling also included the threat that i was going to eat her horse if she didn’t do us a deal. Which, having thought about it sober, probably curtailed any hope of getting a scone. Chris promptly passed out in the curry house and went home before the food arrived and Jez could barely walk. as soon as we got to his house (his mrs picked us up from Moseley) he barfed everywhere. As for me i managed to be ok – smuggled a pint home from the Cross before passing out on Jez’s bean bag.

 

Weird, after the jolly times last night i think i’m actually going to miss this place. 

 

 

Frankfurt

Off to Frankfurt again with work (final work jolly before the big jolly). We’ve been on Google translate to find some useful phrases that we may use when we’re over there. Here are a few that Chris and I intend to use.

 

wie ich zu den tanzenden Mädchen sofort 

Ich bin, daß betrunken ich gerade durch gefolgt bin

hallo geben Gehilfe mir Späne

was bedeutest du dich verkaufst nicht in Essig eingelegte Eier?

Mich bitte befreien Polizist, habe ich eine Sitzung mit Hodder und Stoughton in 10 Minuten.

 

Roughly translated this is what was asked.

 

Show me to the dancing girls immediately

I am that drunk i have followed through

Hello mate give me chips

What do you mean you don’t sell pickled eggs?

Please release me constable i have a meeting with Hodder & Stoughton in 10 minutes

 

 

 

Where’s your passport pisspot?

It’s hammering it down in Birminghamshire and Katie from IT came in to tell me she thought my car window was open. Chris perked up instantly and couldn’t hide his joy. And got the camera out. Fortunately it turned out to be just a reflection. However, the genuine disappointment on Chris’ face when he realised was most perturbing.

 

Last 2 weeks have been termendous, attended 3 events that have restored my faith in British entertainment. The One Day International at Southampton, Killers in Blackpool and Man Utd-Celtic at Old Trafford.

 

The ODI was a treat to behold. H, Kirky, Keemo & I on the sherberts from an early hour. Spontaneous drink up as non of us had thought about it until we were in the car on the way day. Keemo is the best host on earth; shirts printed, quiches cooked, sandwiches & cakes made for all of us for the day. That combined with an abundance of ale led to a quality day including "where’s your passport pisspot", pictures with a scared looking Mike Gatting, a stool ‘procurment’ and unfortunately an England defeat to Pakistan but that was by the by.

 

Following that went up to Blackpool friday to see the Killers. Not seen Matt for 5 years so i phoned him up and asked him if he could provide us free digs. He duly obliged, good to catch up with the Northern wastrel that’s not changed one iota since college – "haven’t got much money maaate". A few beers before the gig, then onto the Empress Ballrooms with Abi for the Killers. My oh my what a band, although Brandon Flowers’ voice sounded a bit sketchy on the Radio 1 live recording on sunday you couldn’t notice it at the gig. All these things that i have done was the highlight and strangely felt complete after seeing them contemplating that seeing anyone else would pale into insignificance. The drinking ensued afterwards firstly in the pool (which i must add, is an utter shit hole) then back to Lytham to meet up with Matt again. Absolutely blarted by the time we got back to Matt’s flat via a random cab journey with an unidentified hammered bloke. Matt went back to his birds so we nailed what we could find in his freezer which turned out to be some oven chips and 2 chicken kievs. Mmm kievs. 

 

Somehow got up and out for the epic journey to Ramsgate the following day. Left Blackpool 10.45 arrived Ramsgate 9.30pm (via the Shire). Stuck in random 4 hour tale back on the M40 that was stationary. Everyone was milling about on the motorway so i got my camera out and went for a wander on the off chance i could picture some car crash victims. Alas not, but i did have 2 random encounters, firstly with a bloke who’d been to the Killers then even more bizarrely bumped into my ex girlfriend who was bout 12 cars infront of me. Got to the ‘gate late but still managed to see Tim’s spiffing new house and get on it. Tremendous evening, everyone was out although i had to leave at 10am for the cricket so spent a full 12 hours 30 minutes there, not far off the amount of time spent in the car getting there.

 

Onto last night to see Man Utd vs. Celtic. Sat in the Stretford End which was an experience as i realised Man Utd actually have proper fans that know how to swear and stuff. Weird. Almost felt compelled to sing or get my head kicked in. Quote of the evening 43 minutes into United’s Champions League season by the fiery character sat to the right of Mo. "Every f_cking year we throw it away in Europe". The fact that it was exclaimed in a cockney accent broader than Mike Reid added to the myrth.

24 working days

You sit there in your heart ache waiting on some beautiful boy to save you in your own ways. Well here he comes he doesn’t look a bit like Jesus but he talks like a gentleman…

 

Bosh there goes another month. (Completely copied Scott’s lyric lines by the way, ta like). Handed in notice – check, jabs – check, flights – check. Shit, this is really happening. F quickly. 24 working days to be precise i’m a wealth of nervous excitement – blind confidence, be alright.

 

So the month that was. Crap weather, crap batting, stumbling along to that magic figure of 1,000 runs for the season its going to be mighty close. 930 runs, 70 required. A might of drinking mind a formidable return to Stratfords boundaries. Some good, some great, some average evenings. New chat up line (thanks Walt) whilst pointing at me: "this bloke has been told he’s devastatingly attractive and girls don’t approach him because of this. What do you think?". Lets say it works better for him than me.

 

Hot tub parties for fun. Nigel’s Uncles house great party house although his suggestion that a bounce on the trampoline was good for hangovers is utter drivel. Despite the rows and broken glasses Nige and I did a job on the drinks fridge with the exception of 2 cans of John Smiths but at 4.45am i think we’d probably had our fill.

 

Golf Day – went well, like organising the Book Fair but not getting paid for it. Somehow doesn’t quite feel as rewarding despite the odd back slap or 2. £1,100 raised that’ll do. Doesn’t fill me with as much delight as it ought for some reason.

 

Killers – somehow procured tickets. Immensely excited.

 

Here’s September, hopefully fairly quiet otherwise it’ll fly past. After next weekend it should be. 5th ODI Southampton, 8th Killers Blackpool, 9th Ramsgate, 13th Man United vs. Celtic. Get in, October looks like this 1-4 Frankfurt, 6-9 Menorca, 12th ta ta. 

Fray Bentos

I can’t possibly be happier. I’ve just found out there is a place in Uruguay called Fray Bentos.

Ted

Strange goings on in the Shire as always. One weekend of drunken humour roles into the next and before you know it its August the 1st and your batting average has dropped below 50 for the first time since May. 320 required for the holy grail of 1,000 weekend runs in a season. Got to give up the booze.

 

Everyone is now officially called Ted, got no idea how it came about but every Graftonite refers to everyone else as Ted now.

 

So it was Ted, Ted, Ted, Ted, Ted, Ted and not forgetting Ted that managed to blag tickets for Global Gathering on Saturday night through a contact of Ted’s. Stayed pub bound til 10.30ish before going to join the gathered 42,000 for an evening of what i expected to be me tutting at least 25 times at a) chavs and b) terrible music. It turned out to be a great evening out, there’s something about festival atmospheres that give you a buzz. That and a beer or 3. Nige was the most excitable person on earth before arriving bless and admitted during cricket the next day that it was probably "the best night of my life". Arrived back in the Shire at about 6am with Darren and Lou. Howard was in car 2 and was in a royal state having genuine problems disembarking Jason’s 306. The theory he was a little worse for wear was compounded upon leaving the arena as he was stumbling back to the car covering as much ground as possible in a side to side styley and turned to Daz and said "Darren, i’m absolutely.." falls over with his face in the mud and goes "f_cked mate".

 

It rained a bit here and there and was as wet as a chub in the Avon upon arrival but we soon dried up in the steaming tents. Dancing in the new Shire mode of "Big Ted, little Ted, cardboard Ted".

 

Frivolity is the key in the Shire. Weeks pass without noticing and 4 weeks on friday its the Golf Day i’m supposed to be organising and even more frighteningly 13th of October is only 74 days away. Gosh.

The week previous was different in comparison to a forray to Global Gathering but different, thought enducing and drunken once again. Bar tab was a neck breaking £38.70 at the Cross forgetting the fact that the friday i didn’t even set foot in the place. Met up with Saunders, Boots, Powelly and Abigail for a jaunt to Stratford in what was a magically fun night (joined later by the Shires finest). Ended up back at Abi’s drinking rose for no reason inparticular especially in leu of the evenings already large consumption.

 

To add to that has been dates, blow outs, broken out board motors, narrow boat tours, confusion, wishes, bold statements of intent, hurt, excitement, nervousness, barbecues, anger, stress, runs for fun, the odd cigarette and grins for fun. Add the odd goose to that and you’ve got yourself a perfect summer. Rock on.