Right. Interview at the co-op today. Most questions would be far too boring to talk about so just look at this gem.
Vicky (Interviewer): Can you tell me about any examples of when you’ve had to plan something?
McAsh: Well, when I was younger my mum went away so I decided to throw a house party. Don’t write that bit down. Anyway, because I didn’t want to let anything break we took many photos of each room to remember where everything goes, and then removed all breakable objects and locked them into a room.
Vicky: Did it work?
McAsh: Well, nothing got broken. But the police arrived so she found out about it anyway.
Vicky: So would you say that’s an example of you being conscientious?
McAsh: Yes, I think so.
Vicky: Right, conscientous and a drunk…
I’ll find out if I’ve got the job on Thursday.
OK. I was going to Podcast it, but upon hearing it, it seemed pretty wank so I’m not going to bother. Here it is anyway:
Today, I was chatting to John online and I asked him if he wanted to do something. I’d decided already that I would be staying sober tonight and I thought it’d be nice to spend the evening with him, after not having seen him much for the whole summer.
He came over and Dave invited us to go to the Old Greyhound in Aslockton. I wasn’t sure at first but John convinced me otherwise. We walked over to Dave’s for about 25 past 9. He was outside waiting for Hunter to pick us all up. We waited for a few moments before Hunter appeared with Diego.
The car was amazing. It was a little red Fiat with two doors and practically no room in the back seat. I had to get Diego to move his seat forward about a foot for me to even put my feet on the ground. The radio was tuned to Heart FM. It was immediately clear that tonight was going to be a wild one.
On the way we were talking about people getting started on for no reason and Dave told us about this one time when he was drunk at the park and this girl started punching him in the face. We asked him what he did and he said “Just stood there.”
We pulled up at the Greyhound and all peeled out. We were slightly disappointed to see that the car-park was quite busy so we were afraid that the pool table would be in use. We wandered in and went to the games room. It was full of people. Someone said “If we go in there we’ll get fucking bummed.”
We stood in the corridor outside the games room for a moment trying to decide whether to venture within. Diego said
“Fuck this, let’s go.” and walked off. With nothing better to do we all followed.
We walked back through the main room and it seemed like everyone was watching. It was so embarrassing, it was a mockery to our very existence.
We wedged ourselves back into the car and rang Simon to tell him not to come and instead to meet us at Chequers in Cropwell Bishop.
We pulled into Chequers and there was a man sitting on the bench staring at us. I looked at him and then regretted it. He seemed to be glaring even more now.
We sat in the car until Simon turned up with Brett. We squeezed out of the car and went into the pub. I was at the front and as we were going in a man was turning into the toilets. As he walked past us he snarled “You guys won’t get served here. Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle.”
Instead of going near the pool table which was surrounded by people we took a right turn and walked into an abandoned lounge area. We all sat down. A barman arrived and asked us what we wanted. It was at this point I realised that no one was intending to actually buy anything. Luckily, John decided to buy a pint of coke, which cost him £2.60.
We sat in silence watching John drink his coke for a while before completely out of the blue a girl called Kayleigh from my year at school appeared. I gave her a hug and we started chatting. At one point John tried to enter the conversation, he said something stupid so Kayleigh told him to “Pipe down!” After that, everyone else was completely silent.
Then Kayleigh called over to the table she was at and another girl from my year, Aimee turned up. I gave her a hug too and we continued to chat. I chatted to Aimee for a while about this and that, and about how things had changed since school finished. I asked her if she came here often. She told me that she’d been kicked out the night before.
“Why?” I asked, slightly bemused.
“One of the guys we were with last night had a weapon with them.” she said “I can’t remember what they’re called. Those things with two pieces of metal attached together by a chain.”
“What? Numbchucks?!” I said.
“Yeah, numbchucks!”
I was amazed. I’d never heard of something as cool as being chucked out of a bar for having numbchucks on them.
We chatted for a bit longer, with the rest of the gang sitting in silence. Eventually she went back to her table. I gave her another hug and wished her all the best.
We all sat in silence for a moment. No one said a word until Dave said “That was the girl who punched me in the face.”
For a moment everyone looked at him in disbelief and then we all burst into streams of laughter. He had been shitting himself through the whole conversation.
By this point John had completely finished his coke. The man from the toilets before walked up to us and said.
“Joggon.”
I had no idea what he’d said. No one replied to him.
He repeated himself.
“Jog on. The barman’s told me to tell you to leave. You can’t just sit in a pub and not drink anything.”
Someone said “Alright.”
He remained stood there and said “Go on then.”
We all picked up our things and left, half embarrassed to death and half crying with laughter. The result was 7 heads hanging low and the sound of chuckling resonating around the room.
Out in the car park we tried to decide where to go. We didn’t succeed so we decided to go to Bingham and decide there. In the car I thought about the previous event. I realised that if the barman had wanted us to leave he’d probably have asked us to himself. That man had just been trying to start a fight with us! Well, I bet he wasn’t expecting that! We backed down like cowards immediately. Group of teenagers: 1. Man in bar: NOTHING!
Brett, John and I went in Simon’s car and the others went with Hunter. We arrived in Bingham much earlier than the others so we sat around trying to decide where to go. John was shitting himself because there were lots of people in the square and he thought they’d start on him. A fight started between two of the girls, and they were proper punching each other and stuff. This frightened John to no end. The others turned up with Gold by Spandeau Ballter blasting out of the gaymobile. We all discussed the possibilities for the rest of the night. We considered going to Central, a gay bar in town but Brett didn’t want to, claiming it’s too scatty. Instead we decided to go to Redmile, a fifteen minute drive away.
We put on alexisonfire really loud and wound all the windows down. We drove around the square once so that we could drive past the quarrelling chavs. John was so scared that they’d look at him that he jumped into the boot. We cruised past them with the music screaming out and we got some interesting looks, and then it was off to Redmile.
Along the way we decided to change location. Simon rang Diego up and told him that instead of the pub in Redmile, we’d go to the “Pikey Pub”. John expressed dismay at this but Brett reassured him that it was only a minority of Pikeys that had mental problems. This didn’t seem to reassure him.
We parked and the gaymobile parked next to us. We all piled out and wandered up to the door. We went in and it was full of women in funny hats. We left again and stood outside.
“It’s a hen night,” someone said.
“Yeah, we can’t go in,” someone else said.
“Yeah we can. There’s room in the pool room.”
We went back inside and walked through to the pool room. A few people bought drinks. We’d learnt from our mistakes.
John, Diego and I went on the quiz machine while the others started a game of pool. It was a quiz about films that Carrie Fisher was in. It was stupidly hard. We lost.
Fifteen minutes later, John edged closer to me and muttered “That girl outside’s getting her tits out.”
It was one of the hen-night girls.
John turned to Diego and pointed at the window. “That girl’s getting her tits out.”
Diego’s reply to this was “Oh well obvious John. Point at them and everything.” He then turned around to face the window.
Someone tapped on it and said “Calm down boys.” And that was the end of that.
The next excitement came from the slot machine. John put a few quid in the 10p machine and came out £1.80 up. He was really pleased with himself so he moved up to the 25p machine, where he lost 4 quid. He then bullied different people into putting money into the 10p machine because he thought it would pay out big. I put 50p in and John immediately took control. We were up a pound so I said let’s claim it. He kept playing. We were then up two pounds. So I said let’s claim it. He kept playing. We lost it all.
We then started to finish off and head outside. As Simon was finishing his fag a boy from my year went on the 25p machine and won. By the time we were outside he was also winning on the 10p one.
John was well upset.
A few weeks ago at John Gunstone’s house I experienced what I thought was the worst shower experience ever. Let me explain.
I was at John’s house (with Suzi, Alan and Megan Hatton) and wanted a shower. John kindly complied with my request and told me to go for it. I don’t normally like to have showers at other people’s houses because I’m afraid I might flood it or do something else silly.
To ensure that nothing bad befell me, I made John show me exactly how to work the shower. He sighed and walked upstairs with me. He opened the shower door and pointed to two different knobs. Both were for temperature (wha?). He told me not to touch one of them but to move the other to whatever temperature suited me. He pointed to the towels and left me to get undressed.
I managed to de-robe fairly successfully without any trouble. I put my clothes on a heap in the corner and got into the shower.
I withdrew the shower from it’s holder (on a vertical rail) and held it so that it pointed downwards. I turned the shower on (following John’s instructions perfectly) and found a suitable temperature. I then put the shower head back into it’s plastic armour. I tried to slide the nozzle up the rail to better suit my height. For some reason the nozzle refused to stay up. I analysed the shower head and discovered that it was broken. I began to plan my apology to John. Needless to say the by-product of my strict and rigorous analysis of the shower head’s mechanics was a powerful spray of water entering my eyes.
Without the vertical rail fulfilling its right and proper duty the dousing of my hair became trickier. I held the shower above my head and attempted to direct it at my hair. As many of you will know, my hand-eye coordination is not what it could be, so I received a large mouthful of water. I then left the shower at the bottom of (useless) vertical rail and began to shampoo my hair. The shampoo was mint flavour and was very pleasing to the nose. I then retrieved the shower-head and rinsed my locks. It was here I discovered that the shampoo was less pleasing to the eyes.
You know when you have a mint or something eucalyptus flavoured it sort of tickles your mouth and makes it feel almost… clean?
The feeling is better in your mouth than any other facial feature.
Anyway, by this point I was becoming increasingly wary of my bad luck, so after I put the conditioner in my hair I rinsed it out while squatting at the bottom of the shower (a funny sight, I am sure).
When I was completely clean I turned the shower off, opened the door and reached around for a towel. I did this because I didn’t want to make the floor wet by stepping out onto it.
So, I patiently dried myself in the confines of the shower enclosure and then stepped out onto the floor. The floor which I had taken care not to let any water go onto. The floor which was currently drenched.
It seems that the enclosure is not as waterproof as one would hope and expect from a structure designed solely to be waterproof.
I now noticed the inclination of the floor. I had assumed that the floor would all be on the same level. Alas, it was not. The whole floor slanted into one corner.
The corner where my clothes lay.
I know, you’re thinking “How horrendous for you McAsh! I cannot imagine an experience in the shower more horrific! You write really well!” Well yes, it was horrific, but believe it or not I have another yarn to spin about another shower-related experience which you may find as horrific, or even more horrific! (It’s true!)
Yesterday morning I awoke to a dismal morning at Canterbury University. I wandered into the bathroom and stepped into the shower.
Unfortunately, due to spacial problems regarding the packing of my luggage, I had not brought my shampoo nor conditioner with me.
The night before (Sunday, for those who aren’t paying attention) I arrived and noticed a transparent pack on my bed with two small bottles inside. Due to extreme relief and excitement I assumed they would be Shampoo and conditioner respectively, so it was to my dismay and utter disgust, that I discovered that one was shower gel and the other was a shampoo-conditioner combo.
A shampoo-conditioner combo.
You read right.
If someone’s reading this to you, you heard right.
This is quite simply the worst invention since torture. In fact, you may consider it a subset or torture. Or you might consider torture a subset of shampoo-conditioner. Regardless of your beliefs, I am sure you will understand my horror.
Anyway, back to Monday morning. I was in the shower, and I turned it onto temperature 5 (which I had been recommended). The temperature was fine.
I wish the same thing could be said for the pressure.
The spray was like a mist. A mist being fired from a cannon. I’d never heard of or experiences high-velocity mist but now I had. In fact, I have yet to experience this outside of that particular shower. This leads me to believe that it is a freak occurrence, divine intervention perhaps. I’ve never been a believer in any kind of God, maybe this was my punishment.
I should have (choose one: prayed for forgiveness/sacrificed a lamb/smoked some pot and listened to reggae) for things only got worse.
I had been warned that the drain was not very good, so I should turn the shower off while applying shower gel, shampoo or conditioner. I followed this advice and the water had time to drain.
But, and you knew there would be a but, when I turned the Mist-Machine back on the scatty shampoo-conditioner combo in my hair went into the scatty mist in the air, which then successfully went into my eyes.
With my eyes burning I reached my hand out of the shower to find my towel. It was not there. I strained my brain for its whereabouts. I remembered.
I dripped out of the shower and onto the floor. I trickled out of the bathroom onto my carpeted bedroom. I flowed across the room, and poured into my bag where I retrieved my towel.
Showers are shit.
Showers are shit.
Showers are shit.
Who needs hygiene?
ICT Exam - 3:10 pm - 23-05-2006
Today was my ICT exam. It was stupidly long. I finished the exam after 20 minutes and then had to wait 55 minutes until I could leave. It wasn’t just me either: halfway into the exam everyone had finished, everyone just staring at the teachers and invigilators hoping to be allowed out early. We weren’t. OCR has wasted an hour of my life.
However on the plus side, I did have time to write this delightful limerick:
I once had to sit a boring test,
It was a test I grew to detest,
I finished it quick
Was bored ’til I was sick,
Everyone says it was a pile of cest.
Good eh?
A long time back, maybe as far back as Year 10, Pete was talking about yoga and meditation. We both agreed that it sounded pretty fun and that we’d like to do it.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago. Grace, Lauren, Freya and Heather (I may have missed some people out there, if so I apologise) began yoga themselves. Last week Pete decided to join in and also attended the session. He really enjoyed it and asked me if I wanted to come today. The plans that I had with Ellerby had fallen through so I said I would pop along.
I asked my mother if I could go (and more importantly, if she would pay) and she agreed. She said that she had been planning on going but didn’t want to if all my friends would be there. She said that she had bought a yoga mat that I might like to use. I wasn’t too sure about this. I wouldn’t have wanted to turn up with a yoga mat that everyone (except for me) could tell was completely ridiculous. They would all laugh at me. No, I didn’t want to attract any more attention than my charming good looks would anyway.
I rang Pete and asked him what time I should arrive. I also mentioned the mat. He told me that the mat was too short for him last week and that he would advise that I bring it. To make sure that it wasn’t ridiculous-looking I described the measurements to him (1.5m*0.5m). He said that that sounded good.
It started at 8, so I set off at 740, to give myself time to pop in and see Ellerby. I realised upon arriving at Ellerby’s house that I would have to leave immediately if I was to be on time. So I said a hasty hallo and a hasty goodbye and off I trotted.
I met Pete and Grace behind the leisure centre, where they were being photographed by Sarah for her media project. I had my photo taken a few times and then we rushed to reception to pay.
I still needed to get changed so I paid first and rushed to the boys changing rooms. Unfortunately, what used to be the boys changing rooms was now a void, so I went to the gym changing rooms.
I quickly got changed and met Pete and Grace and headed up into the yoga room.
She moved some people around so that we would have room. I lay my mat down and followed her instructions. I wrapped my limbs around each other and juggled my organs at each of her commands. I knew I wasn’t doing it right, as everyone in the room was watching me.
Even when they were facing the opposite direction.
Eventually she looked me straight in the eye and asked me if I had ever done any yoga on my mat. I whimpered and replied in the negative so she shouted at me to burn in hell (or she might have told me to do my exersises on the floor, I can’t quite remember).
I could hear every chuckling at me so I lowered my head in shame.
A few minutes later she told us that she had a treat for us all. I was slightly apprehensive at first, but then I realised that she was only talking about a candle. She lit the candle and switched the lights off.
She gave us a long line of instructions which resulted in me almost falling asleep. Then she turned the lights back on and an hour and a half had passed.
How eery.
When I got out of the changing rooms I went to the vending machine and bought a bar of fruit and nut. To my delight, two bars came out instead of the one I had paid for.
The trip had been a success afterall.
The events that take place in this story took place last Friday, I was going to blog the adventure earlier but I got sidetracked by Lampost 8.
The Plan
The plan was simple; it was, in fact, the same plan we’ve had almost every day for the last few weeks.
All we would do is go into Bingham and pick up some food, then stroll to my house and play a bit of SSBM (cuz we’re cool).
It shouldn’t have been a problem.
Leaving School
We started our walk down the school drive only to be stopped by Mr Whiteley (master of all assemblies) who asked to see our passes. I showed him mine and made a casual joke about how well I had forged it. He laughed along with me and everything was jolly. Callum produced a note from his mother giving him permission to go back to my house. Mr Whiteley glanced at this and said that it needed signing by our head of year. Just as we were leaving Mr Rahman pulled up in his sports car and told us that we were not allowed to loiter while in Bingham as he had had complaints from parents about pupils in Bingham and that my name had come up.
While we walked back to school I contemplated the events that must have proceeded Mr Rahman gaining this strange knowledge.
1. Parents of Toot Hill children happen to be in Bingham during our lunch hour.
This part sounds fairly plausible.
2. These parents are offended by our presence and cake-buying activities.
Hmmm… ok.
3. The parents are offended enough to attempt to discover my name.
Why wouldn’t they be offended? I do afterall buy a donut almost everyday.
4. The parents actually succeed in discovering my name.
This is downright silly. How could these parents find out my name merely seeing me in Bingham. I don’t even wear the school uniform- there is no visible link between me and the school.
5. The parents report me to Mr Rahman.
Whatever.
6. Mr Rahman completely ignores the fact that I’m not breaking any school rules and decides to stop me committing such atrocities.
No, surely he wouldn’t do something that silly.
Getting the Note Signed
Myself and Glyn stood talking to Pete and Grace in the carpark while Callum went to find Mr Taylor. He was busy so he returned to Mr Whiteley who told him to go to Mrs Marchant.
Glyn and I accompanied him to her office. She was in, which was a pleasant surprise, but she was on the phone. At least it looked like she was on the phone- she could have been holding a phone to her ear in an attempt to prevent visitors arriving. The three of us waited a while.
Eventually Glyn and I were kicked out of the corridor. We waited with Pete and Grace in the carpark. Mr Whiteley left his position on the school drive and Callum reemerged. He hadn’t managed to speak to Mrs Marchant but the badass did not care!
Down to Bingham went Pete, Glyn, Callum and I!
Ambush!
We bought our sandwichs and cakes and began walking towards my mother’s house. We saw Mr Rahman on the way, so to avoid any conflict we avoided him and maintained a constant speed so that we couldn’t be accused of loitering.
Unfortunately, our efforts were to no avail and Mr Rahman summoned us. He started by repeating what he had said previously about loitering. I pointed out that we were in fact walking towards my house. He must have noticed that he had been defeated because he then turned to Callum and asked him if he had a lunchtime pass. Callum muttered a lie of some kind and Mr Rahman sent him back to school and sent us home.
We went back and only had time for one game before having to set off back for school.
Caught Again!
As we climbed the school drive we heard the bell go. Mr Rahman was standing at the top of the hill. He pointed out that we were late (by five seconds). I was tempted to remind him that we had been delayed by about 15 minutes by the Mr Whitely and himself but I refrained.
I hate Toot Hill.
Friday night’s events have been covered quite satisfactorily in Callum’s entry here so I don’t think I will bother. Instead, I will focus my attention on the events of yesterday.
Morning and Early Afternoon
I woke up at Pete’s house with no desire to go anywhere quickly. Then I got a phone call from Nicho telling me I had to be at the cinema in about 15 minutes for Sophie Bullock’s birthday event. Bearing in mind that I was in Whatton in the middle of nowhere we decided that this would be impossible.
Instead, I caught a bus into Bingham, fed the cat at my mother’s house, had a shower and caught a second bus into town. I texted Nicho to discover where everyone was, they were still in the cinema so I decided to have a look at a formal wear shop. We discussed student discounts. I got a call from Nicho saying that they were out so I left clutching their brochure.
I walked up to the cinema and while I waited for the green man to appear I glanced up at the huge glass building that contains the cinema. Everyone was there waving at me- which made me smile.
We decided to go to the Hard Rock Cafe… so we did.
The place was pretty meaty, with only 4 vegetarian dishes (only two of the salads were vegetarian), and quite expensive so I decided to have a side portion of chips and two glasses of tap water. This came to £1.95, which is damn good value for such an enjoyable experience. For some reason, when it came around to paying the bill both myself and Suzi (who ordered tap water and a salad) decided to give in a fiver. Don’t know why but whatever.
List of People there
Charlie Crowson, Ellerby, |Glyn|, Jade, Nicho, Sita, Sophie Bullock, Sophie Noon, Suzi,
Afternoon
John (Fenton) texted me to say that he was shopping for clothes for Jordan with Jordan, Brooke and Freya, and getting very bored doing so. I said that I would go and meet him. I departed from the group getting a prolonged hug from Ellerby and the general idea that Suzi thought I fancied John (which isn’t true).
I met up with John and we were walking towards the bus when I decided that I wanted some alcohol for the evening so we rang Jordan and didn’t get through. We tried Freya and she answered and said that Jordan would be willing to get me some and that we should meet him at the Broadway.
On the way to Broadway we saw two lesbians kissing. It then turned out that one of them was a boy. We laughed at him in his skinny jeans while he girlishly ran to Broadway. We arrived ourselves, greeted by Brooke, Freya, Jordan, and Kindell. I asked Jordan if he could buy me a six pack of beer and he agreed, telling me that he was charging £1 per item. I’m not sure what I think of this, in some ways I think it is perfectly acceptable charging for a service. However, on the other hand I wasn’t sure what I felt in regards to him making money out of his friends. Ah well, it’s his choice I guess.
Kate the Year 8 then appeared from nowhere and began talking to John. I walked over to them and asked John if he wanted to leave. While he answered me Kate began squeezing my leg. I said she was being a dog and then corrected myself to yorkshire terrier. I asked her when I was coming to her house for tea and it was arranged that I would go the following Saturday (21st January). John then pointed to the table that Kate had come from and sitting at it was the the lesbian-boy still clad with skinny jeans. John and I laughed at him and all her other friends for a while and then asked to be introduced to them. She declined. She then returned to her seat and pointed at us and said things to her friends. We beckoned her over and she came. We pointed out that we felt it was unfair that her other friends knew about us when we didn’t know about them. She had no good comeback for this but luckily for her, her friends appeared and dragger her off. I only just had enough time to say “Good afternoon young man” to one of them- what a cheek.
I left with John for the bus. I got distracted again. I decided I wanted to get some bakery products so we went to Dawson’s. I asked the girls there if it was ok if I paid in coppers and they said it would be fine. So we bought three donuts in a pounds worth of coppers. Awesome.
We finally arrived at the bus to see that Sophie (Ellerby) and Suzi were on it. What a pleasant surprise. They both wanted some of my donut so they disposed of their chewing gum and had a bite. The bus journey was enjoyably spent watching John threaten to punch Sophie and Sophie telling John that it wouldn’t hurt.
By the time we were arriving in Bingham, Suzi had realised that she would miss her bus to Bottesford. Sophie said that she couldn’t go to her house so I said that she could come to mine with John. She said that she would go to Sophie’s to get her stuff and then ring us.
Early Evening
When we arrived back at the house John decided he wanted to go on Heroes IV. The first problem we found was that the mouse was not working. We unplugged it and then replugged it.
Still nothing.
We restarted the computer.
The mouse worked.
The internet did not.
We unplugged and replugged the modem.
No luck.
We restarted the computer.
The screen stopped working.
And it didn’t sound like the computer was working.
John crawled under the desk and began unplugging and replugging all the wires there were. This didn’t do anything either. So we gave up and went upstairs to get some Paracetemol for John, who was by this point quite ill. While we were upstairs, John got a call from Jamie asking where he was. John asked me if Jamie could come over and I agreed.
We failed in our mission for Paracetemol so John went into the living room to relax in front of the TV while I went back to fix the computer. I turned the PC on and it worked immediately. So I fetched John and we went to play Heroes IV!
Unfortunately, for some reason 3D0 had chosen not to include mulitplayer mode in the CD version. So we spent an enjoyable half hour looking for the correct patches. We found a page that had a long list of patches for both the American and English version of the game. We downloaded all the necessary patches for the English version and popped onto Myspace for a laugh.
By looking at the wikipedia entry for Myspace and Country Populations we discovered that if Myspace were to be classified as a country it would be the 57th biggest population on the world with the highest concentration of emo fags.
My computer was going very slowly now so I closed down a few unnecessary programs, including Google Web Accelerater. Closing Web Accelerater also had the effect of stopping all my downloads. So we restarted them.
It was at this point that we realised that Suzi wasn’t coming over.
When the first patch had finally finished I opened it and an error popped up. I looked at the properties of the Heroes IV file and it told me that it was American.
I cancelled all the downloads and started again with the American versions. While we were waiting we went into the living room and watched Futurama.
After Futurama had finished we went back to the computer and opened the newly downloaded American patch.
It didn’t work, so we waited for Jamie to arrive and left for Bingham.
Co-op
Firstly we went to the Pizza Pasta Bar and I got a pizza. Then we went to the Co-op. On the way we saw a huge group of chavs. One of them shouted “Rob their Pizza,” so we walked briskly into the Co-op.
Lauren was there wasting her final few minutes of work-time tidying up the shelves by bringing items closer to the potential customers.
Martin was also there, having been kicked out of Dave’s while B.A.P. (Black and Proud) had a practise rap session.
By the time we we left the Co-op I had finished my pizza and the chavs had left.
Dave’s
We arrived at Dave’s and Lauren began drinking Red Rooster. When Jordan arrived I cracked open a beer. The night’s events included:
Rapping
Techno Dancing
Crisp Sculpting Contests
A very Hyper Lauren
List of People There
Brett, Brooke, Dave, Freya, Grace, Jamie, John, Jordan, Lauren, Martin, Pete, SFFI, Tom Moreland
The Cake Mission
At one point during the night, Jordan casually mentioned that he would like some cake. This made me want cake too. It was agreed that we would go on a cake mission.
And an hour later we got around to it.
The Co-op had closed long ago by this point so we went to Senior Pepper (Pizza place) for hot chocoloate fudge cake.
Jordan didn’t have time to get cake as his bus had arrived. I changed my mind about the cake so myself, Freya and Jamie ordered two portions of fries between us. Jamie was on the phone at this point, so Freya and I entertained ourselves by working out where north was while waiting for the chips.
We were interupted by John shouting at us from the Co-op that the bus was coming. I began to run, followed shortly by Freya. Jamie went to the pizza place to get the chips but we shouted at him that he would miss it.
The Journey to John’s via Lampost 8
The bus didn’t bother stopping for us so we had to jump onto the bus while it was moving like a proper cowboy. The bus didn’t bother to brake while going around corners so we got there quite quickly. Jamie was still on the phone, John was speaking to someone he knew and Freya was talking to Moreland so I sat quietly.
The bus stopped at the Royal Oak so we commenced our short walk to John’s. Jamie was still on the phone to his new girlfriend Laura and I asked her if she liked me. She did, so that was good.
Freya needed to get her stuff from her house which was past John’s. Moreland, Jamie and I didn’t want to walk there so we let John accompany her himself. We were next to a lampost which had the number 8 stuck onto it. We told them “We’ll meet you at Lampost 8. If you arrive at Lampost 7, you’ve gone too far.”
Moreland told us that the manor opposite us house the insane which excited us somewhat. He also told us that they had a trampoline. Jamie, being both a very brave rebel, ventured inside to have a go on it. I followed him, and Moreland followed me, and we sat on the swings for a few moments before I got scared and retreated back to Lampost 8.
We then noticed that the upstairs light had come on in a house nearby. There was a woman peeping around the curtain at us. We waved at her and she left.
The light went off but the person returned. She clearly didn’t think we could see her so we waved at her again.
She left again.
The light went back on and she returned.
So we waved.
And she left.
A few minutes later the security light went on. This was clearly an attempt to scare us off. But we held strong and protected Lampost 8.
Then a man came out and said we were being too loud. We apologised but remained at Lampost 8. He squinted at each of us in turn and then said “I’ve memorised your face now.”
We couldn’t work out exactly what he was going to do with the mental images of our faces- maybe draw them and send them in to America’s Most Wanted?
We decided that the best bet would be to retreat to Lampost 7. We stayed there for a short while, plucking up the courage to advance back to Lampost 8. We did, and John and Freya returned.
John’s House
We went into John’s house and ate lots of toast and then went to bed. In the morning there were plenty of other events to blog but this story had already taken 2154 words.
Today I went to get a haircut. I usually go to Mayfair in Bingham but today I went to a salon Glyn recommended: Essensuals.
I arrived two minutes late. I walked in and told the receptionist that I had an appointment. She looked at me blankly for a moment. I then realised that I had to give her my name. She looked in her book and her finger rested on an unintelligible scribble. She read out the number below it and it was indeed my phone number. She asked me to sit down.
I had been sitting down for a few minutes when she came over and asked me if she could take my coat. I thanked her and began removing it. Then just before I had removed my second sleeve I had a sudden thought. What if she steals it? Looking back on it, it does not seem likely but at the time I thought it very possible and refused to give her my coat. She looked slightly confused and returned to her desk.
I sat silently for a couple of minutes. Then I began worrying that I wouldn’t get a hair cut now. Maybe the salon refuses to give people hair cuts when they don’t hand their coats over. Maybe the whole coat thing was a trust exercise.
I was certain that this was the case by the time she came back with a robe. I told her that I had changed my mind and that I would like her to take my coat. She obliged. It looked like I had passed afterall.
I followed her to an empty seat which I assumed I was supposed to sit in. So I did. I sat perfectly still for what seemed like forever. I watched people walk past. There was one male hairdresser and immediately I could tell he was gay. I don’t know why I knew he was gay. He didn’t act very camp at all. I sat thinking about this for a short while, growing more conscious of the time. It was at this point I understood exactly what was happening.
They were getting revenge on me for the coat thing by playing a big joke on me.
I didn’t think that a hairdresser would come see me for at least an hour.
I was wrong. Becky appeared a couple of minutes later and apologised for keeping me waiting. We discussed my hair. She showed me the back of my head in a mirror. I burst out laughing. It looked ridiculous. She showed me a picture in a magazine and we agreed on how she was going to do it. She then asked me to change chairs and disappeared.
I was now in a seat backing a sink. This confused me somewhat. My confusion ended when another girl appeared and began putting a towel around my neck. It turned out that she wasn’t attempting to strangle me. In fact it was quite the opposite, she was going to wash my hair. This was the first time I had ever had my hair washed by someone else (not since I was very very little and my mum did it for me). It was quite weird. I began to wonder if I’d been washing my hair wrong all my life. I spend much less time massaging my scalp.
I was then wizzed back to my previous chair. The girl asked me if I wanted anything to read or a drink. Being offered a drink shocked me somewhat- it was not something I had been expecting. Instinctively I answered no. I thought they would charge me for it. They probably wouldn’t though, would they?
Becky reappeared and began cutting my hair. The man who I knew was gay popped over to say that he was going. Becky looked at the entrance and saw another man. She asked the male hairdresser if he was “the one you’ve told me about”. He smiled and nodded.
A short time after this she finished cutting my hair. She put some “light wax” in my hair which gave it quite a nice effect. I asked her if I could buy some from the salon and she said I could.
We walked back to the reception desk. She asked me if she could leave me with the receptionist. The receptionist didn’t look too scary. And after that nasty coat business had been sorted out she had been very nice. So I agreed. The receptionist got my coat and took my money. I didn’t get the wax, because I was far too scared by this point.
So I left.
Pete is coming over today. The plan was for him to catch the 13.35 train. Unfortunately it was decided that I should est lunch at 1430. Which would mean Pete hanging around at Dad’s house doing nothing for an hour. So Maria (my father’s girlfriend) offered to change the meal time to 1700. We decided it would be best to invite Pete too. So I rang him:
McAsh: Hi Pete
Pete: Hi.
McAsh: Do you want to eat with us today?
Pete: What, like an evening meal?
McAsh: Sort of.
Pete: Explain.
McAsh: Well it’s at 1700. So it isn’t really evening.
Pete: I don’t know.
Maria: Make sure you tell Pete what we’re having.
McAsh: We’re having beans and onions.
Pete: What? Just beans and onions?
Maria: And rice.
McAsh: And rice.
Pete: Just beans and onions and rice.
McAsh: Yeah.
Dad: Tell him that it’s your fault he’s having that. You’re the vegetarian.
McAsh: It’s my fault we’re having beans and onions and rice.
Pete: Oh.
Maria: Your Dad sounds cheap now. Tell him that your Dad is having lamb.
McAsh: Ok. My Dad is having lamb though. But you’re getting beans and onions and rice.
Pete: Oh.
Maria: Tell him that Jackie’s having lamb too.
McAsh: Jackie’s having lamb too.
Pete: Oh.
Dad: That didn’t make it any better.
Pete: I’m getting a phone call. Let me ring you back in a moment.
Maria: It doesn’t look like we’re cheap now.
Dad: No, now it looks like we’re having good food but depriving Pete of it.
Phone: Ring ring.
McAsh: Hi.
Pete: Yeah, I don’t think I can stay for dinner.
McAsh: Ok.
In the end we agreed on having dinner at 1400, without Pete.
EDIT: Pete is going home tonight to dinner. His family are all having lamb. He isn’t.
Eggy Bread - 7:13 pm - 04-12-2005
I was at Ellerby’s house this morning. We were supposed to be doing maths coursework but most of the time was spent eating satsumas and talking to people on MSN.
Sophie’s mum is really lovely and kept offering food and drink. When I arrived she offered me some eggy bread which I declined, still feeling full from my Shreddies.
When I got home I decided that I would like some eggy bread afterall. The only problem was that I didn’t know how to make it. Cooking is not my forte.
I looked up tinternet and found a recipe. It looked simple enough.
1. Whisk eggs.
Can’t find a whisk. Maybe I should use a wooden spoon? Or is that beating it? Does it matter? Let’s try it.
2. Add milk.
Doesn’t say how much… How am I supposed to know how much it means? Full fat or semi skinned? Or skinned? I’ll have to guess.
3. Heat oil in frying pan.
How much oil, and how friggin’ heated?
4. Dip bread into mixture. Ensure both sides are covered.
The mixture is in a mixing jug. I can’t cover a whole slice of bread by dipping it into a jug! I need a tray or something. For some reason we don’t have an eggy bread tray…
5. Place eggy bread into pan and fry until golden brown.
Oil in my eyes. The pan spat burning oil at me. Turn the tap on. Thrust face into water.
Water in my eyes.
Return to pan and flip eggy bread. Eggy bread is black.
Lovely
Next »
