Today, my long lasting, ever-able car found another use. My beloved 1986 Ford Escort 1.4 GL Estate in champagne gold has almost reached legendary status. Not only do you all know who Ernie the Escort is (unless you a new reader, in which case, welcome), but so does just about everyone in my social circles. In fact, if you search Google for Ernie the Escort, he is the first result, and the first two image results.
Since buying my car for £300 in 2005, my car has risen to every challenge thrown at it. It has been a mini(mini)bus, a van, a long range kayak transporter, a mountain driving car, an off-roader, an ambulance, a police car (albeit only in videos), a band car, and very nearly a submarine (see a post from a few weeks back). But today, Ernie become something else: a break-down recovery towing vehicle.
My slightly mad Uncle had to get rid of his wife's car, down to a scrap dealer. It had been sitting so long that it wouldn't start, and the brakes were ceased. So, using my car (and the tow rope I always have with me) I heaved the car off of it's ceased brakes. Then I towed the car for a while. As we were driving along, every now and then, my Uncle's car became very heavy. Why? Was Ernie finally giving up? No, my mad Uncle was trying 'bump starting' the car as we drove along. It worked, but I swear that my clutch has never smelt like that before...
As it turns out, my car will soon be something else soon. A continental cruiser. We are being forced to go to the Alpes in a few weeks, and in an effort to travel cheap (and for me to find some enjoyment) we're driving. In Ernie. Yes, my 22 year old Escort will be covering over 700 miles to Grenoble in Southern France. If anyone wants to leave a snide comment about breaking down, don't bother. 1 - I am 100% sure that we're going to get all the way there, and all the way back. 2 - I've already heard them all. Thanks friends and family for all your faith...
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Oh good, it's Christmas. Again...
There are some people at there that this year believe I have developed a dislike of Christmas. Whilst I freely admit that Christmas isn't the happiest time of year for me, I don't hate it. The majority of my friends are elsewhere (and this year, with Michael in Wales, I think I can say that all of my friends are elsewhere), I guess that I just feel a bit lonely. Add in the fact that for two weeks, I have nothing to do (NTC is closed, and I admit to missing them, no Uni, and not much to get out of bed for), and I am locked in a house with my family. Are you seeing my point? I love Christmas, but when it's time to go and buy that Christmas tree, it's generally an early warning system being switched on in my head that two weeks of misery approaches.
But I do believe in the good that Christmas has to offer. At this time of the year, Lancing and Sompting Lions club (of which I am a member) go around my home town of Lancing with Santa, on a brightly lit sleigh, towed by another of our member's old Rover, playing loud Christmas tunes. For someone who truely hates Christmas, I imagine that it is hell on Earth. But I actually quite enjoy. Despite having the wonderful Chavs of Lancing lauching rocks at us, and old gits shouting at us (we just say 'Merry Christmas' extra loudly to them...), we go out in the cold, and knock on doors, and rattle tins. Although it brings in over £2000 a year, I enjoy it to see the small children smile at Santa. Soppy I know, but proof I hope, that I don't hate Christmas.
On a side note, you have not lived until you have ridden in the back on an old trailer (I mean sleigh), towed by an old Rover at 30mph along the A27, with the sound system set to inappropriately loud, playing that tune that goes: 'Hallelujah! HALLELUJAH! Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Halle-hey, Lujah!' Please imagine me singing that, I think it makes for better imagery...
Merry Christmas from CATCOUK (if I don't manage to post again before Thursday). Incidentally, just 5 shoplifting days left until that special day...
But I do believe in the good that Christmas has to offer. At this time of the year, Lancing and Sompting Lions club (of which I am a member) go around my home town of Lancing with Santa, on a brightly lit sleigh, towed by another of our member's old Rover, playing loud Christmas tunes. For someone who truely hates Christmas, I imagine that it is hell on Earth. But I actually quite enjoy. Despite having the wonderful Chavs of Lancing lauching rocks at us, and old gits shouting at us (we just say 'Merry Christmas' extra loudly to them...), we go out in the cold, and knock on doors, and rattle tins. Although it brings in over £2000 a year, I enjoy it to see the small children smile at Santa. Soppy I know, but proof I hope, that I don't hate Christmas.
On a side note, you have not lived until you have ridden in the back on an old trailer (I mean sleigh), towed by an old Rover at 30mph along the A27, with the sound system set to inappropriately loud, playing that tune that goes: 'Hallelujah! HALLELUJAH! Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Halle-hey, Lujah!' Please imagine me singing that, I think it makes for better imagery...
Merry Christmas from CATCOUK (if I don't manage to post again before Thursday). Incidentally, just 5 shoplifting days left until that special day...
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Just setting the record straight
Whilst having a conversation recently, the topic of my nickname arrised. For those of you that don't know, I am known as Flora in some circles. Quite an unusual nickname for a heterosexual bloke like myself, and one that always causes questions. So here it is, the reason I ma known as Flora (well, as I understand it anyway)...
In the first few weeks of University in the first year is when nicknames start to appear. In our year group we have Batman, Gadget, Extreme Paul (later XP), Fella, 'Our Kes', Irish Kerry and so on. Around this time, people started to refer to me as Flora. Apparently, my need to help people, and constant offering of help and stuff had earned me a reputation as being a very pro-active person. At the time (and maybe still, I don't know) you could buy a margarine called Flora Pro-active. Hence the name, Flora.
Cheesy, I know, and at first it certainly felt a little odd. But I've grown to like it. Unlike Batman and Gadget, whose real names of Simon and James have been long forgotten, I've managed to keep mine. I guess that would be largely due to the fact that it's difficult to introduce myself. 'Hi my name's James, but my friends call me Gadget' works alright. 'Hi, my name's Andy, but you can call me Flora' sounds even weirder than I look.
So there you have it. Done.
I also want to just say that I am going to the Alpes in January. Whilst for many people this may seem like a fantastic opportunity, as the University trip gets closer, I am beginning to resent it, and worry about it even more. Worse still, because of the enormous expense involved, the trip is going to wipe out my savings, and possibly even put me in debt. I wouldn't mind so much, if it was actually something I wanted to do, or maybe was for the benefit of others. But it's not. Am I a bad person for hoping that some personal tradgey will befall me, and give me a good reason to not attend? Of course, as soon as the idea even hints in my mind, I remember that people do rely on me -
I am driving, in my car, the glorious 1986 Ford Escort 1.4 GL Estate in champagne gold (Ernie) to Grenoble. Maybe that's the funniest thing you've ever heard, but only because you don't think my car's up to it. Rubbish. It's only a 1500 mile round trip. Ernie used to cover that in two weeks.
And on that note, I'd like to open up to comments from the floor. If you have another suggestion as to my nickname, please feel free to share it with us.
In the first few weeks of University in the first year is when nicknames start to appear. In our year group we have Batman, Gadget, Extreme Paul (later XP), Fella, 'Our Kes', Irish Kerry and so on. Around this time, people started to refer to me as Flora. Apparently, my need to help people, and constant offering of help and stuff had earned me a reputation as being a very pro-active person. At the time (and maybe still, I don't know) you could buy a margarine called Flora Pro-active. Hence the name, Flora.
Cheesy, I know, and at first it certainly felt a little odd. But I've grown to like it. Unlike Batman and Gadget, whose real names of Simon and James have been long forgotten, I've managed to keep mine. I guess that would be largely due to the fact that it's difficult to introduce myself. 'Hi my name's James, but my friends call me Gadget' works alright. 'Hi, my name's Andy, but you can call me Flora' sounds even weirder than I look.
So there you have it. Done.
I also want to just say that I am going to the Alpes in January. Whilst for many people this may seem like a fantastic opportunity, as the University trip gets closer, I am beginning to resent it, and worry about it even more. Worse still, because of the enormous expense involved, the trip is going to wipe out my savings, and possibly even put me in debt. I wouldn't mind so much, if it was actually something I wanted to do, or maybe was for the benefit of others. But it's not. Am I a bad person for hoping that some personal tradgey will befall me, and give me a good reason to not attend? Of course, as soon as the idea even hints in my mind, I remember that people do rely on me -
I am driving, in my car, the glorious 1986 Ford Escort 1.4 GL Estate in champagne gold (Ernie) to Grenoble. Maybe that's the funniest thing you've ever heard, but only because you don't think my car's up to it. Rubbish. It's only a 1500 mile round trip. Ernie used to cover that in two weeks.
And on that note, I'd like to open up to comments from the floor. If you have another suggestion as to my nickname, please feel free to share it with us.
Friday, December 12, 2008
I don't know why he worries - it only cost the equivalent of 40 Ernies...
I know, I know, I haven't posted for a while. And it's not like I have a good excuse. Or even a crap excuse. I just couldn't be bothered - I've had a very lazy week, now that Uni is 'over' (although I still have a dissertation to be getting on with, and lots of things to be reading about ready for the Alpes).
Wednesday night, I received a phone call from 'Amy Mike'. Very confused (and obviously the name meant something when I put it in) I answered. The young lady asked me if I'd like to go and see a movie at the Brighton marina (all is looking up I guess you're thinking). Unfortunatly, it was my best friend, Michael's girlfriend. They and their neighbour were going to watch Transporter 3. Was their neighbour female - no.
Single female company asside, the movie was okay. The editor of Transporter 3 needs to be shot - I haven't seen poorly and fakely sped up film since TV shows of the late '70s! Also, I hope that the BBC and the producers of Top Gear have been paid for their creative input - we've seen BMX cycling in Budapest before, and vehicles being pulled out of the water and restarted (although it wasn't a Toyota pickup). To add insult to injury, the observant viewer will notice a copy of Top Gear magazine on the top shelf of the magazine rack in the petrol station...
[once again, no image - I still can't access my external hard drive - curse you Western Digital]
3 Escorts out of 5: not a bad movie, but just about worth seeing.
Lastly, to the title of my blog. Michael recently purchased a very nice Audi A4 2ltr sport diesel. Asside from using the fuel of the devil, the car is very nice. But despite costing 40 times what I paid for my classic special edition multi-purpose '86 Ford Escort, I ask you - should it take 20 minutes to park in an empty (yes I said empty) car park. Michael, I love you, but you really are a tart when it comes to parking. Just when he'd taken three attempts to park straight in the bay, Amy (his girlfriend) pointed out some muddy football marks on the wall next to the car. The parking process started again...
Wednesday night, I received a phone call from 'Amy Mike'. Very confused (and obviously the name meant something when I put it in) I answered. The young lady asked me if I'd like to go and see a movie at the Brighton marina (all is looking up I guess you're thinking). Unfortunatly, it was my best friend, Michael's girlfriend. They and their neighbour were going to watch Transporter 3. Was their neighbour female - no.
Single female company asside, the movie was okay. The editor of Transporter 3 needs to be shot - I haven't seen poorly and fakely sped up film since TV shows of the late '70s! Also, I hope that the BBC and the producers of Top Gear have been paid for their creative input - we've seen BMX cycling in Budapest before, and vehicles being pulled out of the water and restarted (although it wasn't a Toyota pickup). To add insult to injury, the observant viewer will notice a copy of Top Gear magazine on the top shelf of the magazine rack in the petrol station...
[once again, no image - I still can't access my external hard drive - curse you Western Digital]
3 Escorts out of 5: not a bad movie, but just about worth seeing.
Lastly, to the title of my blog. Michael recently purchased a very nice Audi A4 2ltr sport diesel. Asside from using the fuel of the devil, the car is very nice. But despite costing 40 times what I paid for my classic special edition multi-purpose '86 Ford Escort, I ask you - should it take 20 minutes to park in an empty (yes I said empty) car park. Michael, I love you, but you really are a tart when it comes to parking. Just when he'd taken three attempts to park straight in the bay, Amy (his girlfriend) pointed out some muddy football marks on the wall next to the car. The parking process started again...
Sunday, December 07, 2008
I didn't find it funny at the time
The Adventure Activities Director of the Corps, and responsible for the organisation's safety policies nearly parked his car in the wet bit of Shoreham Harbour today.
At least that's how I imagine the Corps magazine (if it was published regularly) would report the matter. I ran a conference and a training course today, and arrived at the centre to find ALOT of cars in the little road leading to the centre. I don't know what was going on, but it was busy. I backed down the lane (because you would never turn around), and went to park behind a van. I backed the car in, and then went to go forward and turn the car in behind the van. All sounds fair enough...
I should explain that this road runs directly next to Shoreham harbour's canal. What I hadn't noticed, is that unlike the the rest of the quayside, the quayside where I was parked suddenly cut in, and got narrower. From a distance, it looked straight, and the actual point where the quayside came in, was hidden from my view by my bonnet. So as I drove forward to go behind this van (and I think you can see where this is going), my front left tire found the gap and... CLUNK! 'Ah,' I said, 'that's not gone well' (or words similar to that, I forget the exact wording).
Fortunately, some of my friends from NTC's London region were there to help (and they even managed to contain their laughter). They got in the boot to counter balance the car, and Mark pushed from the front, whilst I put the car in reverse, and put the wheel full over. With the help of some of the centre's neighbours, Ernie crawled back onto the bank, and avoided going for a swim. I asked the guys if they had seen that James Bond movie, and explained that the Lotus had gone due to budget cuts...
The irony is, I was convinced I would end up in the drink this morning. It's a steep little road, and my driveway was very icy. Funny though, ice played no part in it. (I wish it had, at least then I's have an excuse other than being a muppet...).
At least that's how I imagine the Corps magazine (if it was published regularly) would report the matter. I ran a conference and a training course today, and arrived at the centre to find ALOT of cars in the little road leading to the centre. I don't know what was going on, but it was busy. I backed down the lane (because you would never turn around), and went to park behind a van. I backed the car in, and then went to go forward and turn the car in behind the van. All sounds fair enough...
I should explain that this road runs directly next to Shoreham harbour's canal. What I hadn't noticed, is that unlike the the rest of the quayside, the quayside where I was parked suddenly cut in, and got narrower. From a distance, it looked straight, and the actual point where the quayside came in, was hidden from my view by my bonnet. So as I drove forward to go behind this van (and I think you can see where this is going), my front left tire found the gap and... CLUNK! 'Ah,' I said, 'that's not gone well' (or words similar to that, I forget the exact wording).
Fortunately, some of my friends from NTC's London region were there to help (and they even managed to contain their laughter). They got in the boot to counter balance the car, and Mark pushed from the front, whilst I put the car in reverse, and put the wheel full over. With the help of some of the centre's neighbours, Ernie crawled back onto the bank, and avoided going for a swim. I asked the guys if they had seen that James Bond movie, and explained that the Lotus had gone due to budget cuts...
The irony is, I was convinced I would end up in the drink this morning. It's a steep little road, and my driveway was very icy. Funny though, ice played no part in it. (I wish it had, at least then I's have an excuse other than being a muppet...).
Saturday, December 06, 2008
She's got a PhD - yeah, in incompetence
Facebook readers will have been slightly mistified by a status I left up last night. Yesterday, I received an E-mail from a lecturer at University. She may well have a PhD, but she sure missed out on the common sense when they were handing it out. All semester, I have been saying that she's an eejit, but everyone else keeps telling me that I'm being harsh. Well, let's put it to a public vote:
She has missed three lectures on short notice, and she only had to present 6! Worst still, one of the lectures she cancelled was a rescheduled lecture that I travelled into Uni for, because she had cancelled it first time round! And to add further insult, she only cancelled that lecture after we had been waiting for twenty minutes, and got bored and phoned her office.
The E-mail I received contained the lecture notes of the lecture she failed to deliver. I got them Friday - not Monday when we should have had the lecture. Maybe this wouldn't be such an issue, if our exam wasn't this Monday! Still at least we got them before our exam, which I imagine was largely due to luck, and not because she realised...
Lastly, the main reason she had sent the E-mail (I guess the lecture notes were an after thought), she wants some help running some tests at a school. Money would be paid for assisstance, and even better, the school is near me! Just as I am about to reply, and say I'll do it, I look at the date. What day do you think this testing is happenning? That's right, the day of our exam. Well-f**k*ng-done.
So, what's your verdict. Is she: A. A idiot. B. A smart person (spelt S.M.R.T.) C. A dullard. D. A tard. or (in the interests of fairness) E. Someone vaguely intelligent.
Answers of a postcard please!
She has missed three lectures on short notice, and she only had to present 6! Worst still, one of the lectures she cancelled was a rescheduled lecture that I travelled into Uni for, because she had cancelled it first time round! And to add further insult, she only cancelled that lecture after we had been waiting for twenty minutes, and got bored and phoned her office.
The E-mail I received contained the lecture notes of the lecture she failed to deliver. I got them Friday - not Monday when we should have had the lecture. Maybe this wouldn't be such an issue, if our exam wasn't this Monday! Still at least we got them before our exam, which I imagine was largely due to luck, and not because she realised...
Lastly, the main reason she had sent the E-mail (I guess the lecture notes were an after thought), she wants some help running some tests at a school. Money would be paid for assisstance, and even better, the school is near me! Just as I am about to reply, and say I'll do it, I look at the date. What day do you think this testing is happenning? That's right, the day of our exam. Well-f**k*ng-done.
So, what's your verdict. Is she: A. A idiot. B. A smart person (spelt S.M.R.T.) C. A dullard. D. A tard. or (in the interests of fairness) E. Someone vaguely intelligent.
Answers of a postcard please!
Friday, December 05, 2008
Bloody Cliff Richard!
Christmas is fast approaching, whether I want to admit it or not. So I have managed to get alot of Christmas shopping done this week. Today, I had to get the last thing for my mother - a Cliff Richard CD. Now I'm certainly no expert, but I've seen adverts on the TV, and I was pretty sure he'd just released a new album.
I wondered in to HMV, and was confronted with row upon row upon row of CDs and DVDs. I buy a fair few DVDs, but I can't remember the last time I bought a CD. Being short on time, I swallowed my pride, and asked a shop assistant. Just as I approached a guy to ask, I suddenly felt very apprehensive. What self-respecting 21 year old guy is going to buy a Cliff Richard CD?
Feeling like some seedy bloke, looking for the adult videos, I approached the shop guy for help. Feeling like I should be wearing a long trench coat, a hat, and some sun glasses, I asked him where I could find a Cliff Richard CD. He walked me over to the area, and feeling like a filthy depraved pervert, I picked out Cliff's jolly, if not slightly gay face. Then with a fair ammount shame, I approached the counter, and purchased this disgusting CD, trying desperately to cover up the front cover. I shoved the CD in my bag, and quickly exited the shop.
Having gone through that ordeal, I proceeded to Mum's work, to help her out with something. You'll never guess what was sitting on her desk next to her CDE player - the same bloody Cliff Richard CD that I had just got from HMV (well not the same one, but you know what I mean). There was Cliff's smug (and slightly camp) face looking back at me, taunting me. Now I have to go back to HMV, and get a refund. Oh, the embarressment...
I wondered in to HMV, and was confronted with row upon row upon row of CDs and DVDs. I buy a fair few DVDs, but I can't remember the last time I bought a CD. Being short on time, I swallowed my pride, and asked a shop assistant. Just as I approached a guy to ask, I suddenly felt very apprehensive. What self-respecting 21 year old guy is going to buy a Cliff Richard CD?
Feeling like some seedy bloke, looking for the adult videos, I approached the shop guy for help. Feeling like I should be wearing a long trench coat, a hat, and some sun glasses, I asked him where I could find a Cliff Richard CD. He walked me over to the area, and feeling like a filthy depraved pervert, I picked out Cliff's jolly, if not slightly gay face. Then with a fair ammount shame, I approached the counter, and purchased this disgusting CD, trying desperately to cover up the front cover. I shoved the CD in my bag, and quickly exited the shop.
Having gone through that ordeal, I proceeded to Mum's work, to help her out with something. You'll never guess what was sitting on her desk next to her CDE player - the same bloody Cliff Richard CD that I had just got from HMV (well not the same one, but you know what I mean). There was Cliff's smug (and slightly camp) face looking back at me, taunting me. Now I have to go back to HMV, and get a refund. Oh, the embarressment...
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Normal service will now resume
Hello all. Just when you thought that you had got rid of me for good, I resurface like a bad smell, or that embarressing rash you got from an old wetsuit...
I have been a bit quiet of late, as I have had a metric sh*t ton of University work. 2500 words of the worst module on the face of the planet (Water Based Research), a 700 word poster of the worst subject of all time (Physiology - sorry JK, it's just not my thing), and 2800 words for Environments (despite being a pretty dull topic, this was my favourit module of the semester!!). So with that in mind, I hope you'kll appreciate that I didn't really feel like writing anything else.
Anyways, the horrors of water based research are now a dull and distant memory, and I have forgotten all that I had written on the physiology poster (thank god I wasn't asked any probing questions...). Many an amusing thing has happenned over the past few weeks, but I can't remember any of them. So you'll just have to settle for a quick message today.
The last time we did a poster presentation, I dressed uber-smartly in my best (and only) pin-stripe suit, and looked the business. No on else bothered with their attire, so I looked like a bit of a fruit. Today we had another poster presentation,a nd everyone else had dressed really smartly - we all really looked great. Well, I say we... I actually thought they were joking, so didn't make the effort. There were suits wondering about, and very smart looking people indeed.
I on the other hand went a little more casual. Suade jacket, and a cowboy hat. I was asked of I had recently discovered oil, or of I now owned a major leage US football team. It turns out, I just wasn't able to attend Wild West night at the bar on Monday, and I didn't want to miss out!!!
So once again, I ended up looking like a loon - but at least this time it was on purpose.
PS - Yeehaw!
I have been a bit quiet of late, as I have had a metric sh*t ton of University work. 2500 words of the worst module on the face of the planet (Water Based Research), a 700 word poster of the worst subject of all time (Physiology - sorry JK, it's just not my thing), and 2800 words for Environments (despite being a pretty dull topic, this was my favourit module of the semester!!). So with that in mind, I hope you'kll appreciate that I didn't really feel like writing anything else.
Anyways, the horrors of water based research are now a dull and distant memory, and I have forgotten all that I had written on the physiology poster (thank god I wasn't asked any probing questions...). Many an amusing thing has happenned over the past few weeks, but I can't remember any of them. So you'll just have to settle for a quick message today.
The last time we did a poster presentation, I dressed uber-smartly in my best (and only) pin-stripe suit, and looked the business. No on else bothered with their attire, so I looked like a bit of a fruit. Today we had another poster presentation,a nd everyone else had dressed really smartly - we all really looked great. Well, I say we... I actually thought they were joking, so didn't make the effort. There were suits wondering about, and very smart looking people indeed.
I on the other hand went a little more casual. Suade jacket, and a cowboy hat. I was asked of I had recently discovered oil, or of I now owned a major leage US football team. It turns out, I just wasn't able to attend Wild West night at the bar on Monday, and I didn't want to miss out!!!
So once again, I ended up looking like a loon - but at least this time it was on purpose.
PS - Yeehaw!
Thursday, November 20, 2008
That ws very... er... Starsky & Hutch
Yesterday, my friend Michael and I went and saw the new James Bond movie: Quantum of Solace. Absolutely fantastic movie, and a very good bond movie. They have managed to make a truly 'non-stop action' movie, but with a significant enough plot, that it's not just all about destroying Aston Martins, running across roof tops, or flying old planes over deserts. Anyone that doesn't see the plot is clearly an idiot. For me however, two major draw backs.
The production destroyed 14 Aston Martins. As such, you would expect to see it make up a major part of the movie. In fact, the Aston Martin doesn't feature after the second or third minute! 14 Astons destroyed for two or three minutes of film - that makes me angry. Secondly, despite having a really good title theme (which would be even better if the singers didn't open their mouths), the whole film has a crap soundtrack. The soundtrack makes a movie for me, and there was almost no soundtrack that made an impact.
[IMAGE MISSING, BECAUSE I CAN'T GET AT MY EXTERNAL HARD-DRIVE]
Overall, 4 Escorts out of 5: Fantastic film, but poor soundtrack usage and wasteful use of beautiful Aston Martins.
The film was great, as was catching with Michael. What wasn't great, was having to go in Michael's girlfriend's car - a purple Fiesta. Very nice for young ladies to be driving, but a bit... homosexual for two men. Despite travelling in the gay-mobile, I was even more upset by something else. Whenever we go out, I always look scruffy (having made no effort), and Michael looks great (often wearing a suit or a decent shirt). So, I decided to make an effort - even ironing a shirt. Michael had had the day off work, so looked as scruffy as I usually do. Bugger.
On the way home, in our gay mobile, we stopped at Brighton Asda to get some shopping. Michael and Amy needed some stuff, so Michael agreed to pick it up on the way home. Two men, in Brighton, in a gay car, shopping together (one of the me dressed in a decent shirt and leather jacket, the other a little scruffy). What would you think? As we finished at Asda, I was just about to get back into the car, when I said loudly 'Time to go back to our wives and girlfriends', thus dispelling all thoughts that we might be a bit... doors swinging the wrong way.
We did have fun in Asda though. Being very late, the shelves were being restacked. Boxes and roll-cages everywhere. One of the aisles was completely bloccked by a roll-cage on one side, and cardboard boxes on the other side. Never mind, I learnt all that I kow from Starsky & Hutch, and they were quite fond of barrelling through boxes - so that's what I did with the trolley (much to the amazement of the staff).
Lastly, in times of such financial crisis, it is important to find ways of saving money. As I was eating lunch yesterday, Holly pointed out some money-saving ideas that she found in her 'Love it' magazine. One idea was to spice up an old lampshade with... post-it notes! No fire hazard there I suppose.
Another idea was to save money on dinnr parties, by making your own after-dinner mints. Simply freeze a tube of fancy toothpaste, and slice it up. I immediately pointed out, that if they were left out of the freezer too long, the end result might be a bit... sloppy? Whilst I was telling Michael about this idea at the till in Asda's, the ladie next to us in the queue pointed out that the end result might also be a bit... frothy? Lastly, Michael looked at the mints for sale at the checkout. A fancy tube of toothpaste is probably going to cost more that a 39p packet of mints anyway - so the whole point of the exercise is wasted. I don't know why we bother.
The production destroyed 14 Aston Martins. As such, you would expect to see it make up a major part of the movie. In fact, the Aston Martin doesn't feature after the second or third minute! 14 Astons destroyed for two or three minutes of film - that makes me angry. Secondly, despite having a really good title theme (which would be even better if the singers didn't open their mouths), the whole film has a crap soundtrack. The soundtrack makes a movie for me, and there was almost no soundtrack that made an impact.
[IMAGE MISSING, BECAUSE I CAN'T GET AT MY EXTERNAL HARD-DRIVE]
Overall, 4 Escorts out of 5: Fantastic film, but poor soundtrack usage and wasteful use of beautiful Aston Martins.
The film was great, as was catching with Michael. What wasn't great, was having to go in Michael's girlfriend's car - a purple Fiesta. Very nice for young ladies to be driving, but a bit... homosexual for two men. Despite travelling in the gay-mobile, I was even more upset by something else. Whenever we go out, I always look scruffy (having made no effort), and Michael looks great (often wearing a suit or a decent shirt). So, I decided to make an effort - even ironing a shirt. Michael had had the day off work, so looked as scruffy as I usually do. Bugger.
On the way home, in our gay mobile, we stopped at Brighton Asda to get some shopping. Michael and Amy needed some stuff, so Michael agreed to pick it up on the way home. Two men, in Brighton, in a gay car, shopping together (one of the me dressed in a decent shirt and leather jacket, the other a little scruffy). What would you think? As we finished at Asda, I was just about to get back into the car, when I said loudly 'Time to go back to our wives and girlfriends', thus dispelling all thoughts that we might be a bit... doors swinging the wrong way.
We did have fun in Asda though. Being very late, the shelves were being restacked. Boxes and roll-cages everywhere. One of the aisles was completely bloccked by a roll-cage on one side, and cardboard boxes on the other side. Never mind, I learnt all that I kow from Starsky & Hutch, and they were quite fond of barrelling through boxes - so that's what I did with the trolley (much to the amazement of the staff).
Lastly, in times of such financial crisis, it is important to find ways of saving money. As I was eating lunch yesterday, Holly pointed out some money-saving ideas that she found in her 'Love it' magazine. One idea was to spice up an old lampshade with... post-it notes! No fire hazard there I suppose.
Another idea was to save money on dinnr parties, by making your own after-dinner mints. Simply freeze a tube of fancy toothpaste, and slice it up. I immediately pointed out, that if they were left out of the freezer too long, the end result might be a bit... sloppy? Whilst I was telling Michael about this idea at the till in Asda's, the ladie next to us in the queue pointed out that the end result might also be a bit... frothy? Lastly, Michael looked at the mints for sale at the checkout. A fancy tube of toothpaste is probably going to cost more that a 39p packet of mints anyway - so the whole point of the exercise is wasted. I don't know why we bother.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Working hard... well at Top Gear anyway...
Picture the scene. I was quietly sitting at my laptop on the quiet individual study floor of the library, at the desk by the window. It is a scene of complete calm and serenity. As I sat there at my laptop (glasses on for extra intelligence), two of my friends bounded up. At the moment we all have a metric crap ton (approximatly 1.65 imperial crap tonnes) of work to do. Holly and Kat had made alot of headway on the physiology assignment, whilst I had written the methodology for both physiology and water based. They had told me that they were going to put in a full hard days work today, and that they intended to do the same tommorrow. Fair play to them.
Now, as I was saying, they appeared at my desk, and it was 3.30. 'We're going back to my place to watch Jeremy Kyle,' said Holly.
'I thought that you said you were putting in a whole day's work today,' I replied somewhat bemused. I knew that I would be in the library until 6, having started at 10. After stating that they had put alot of effort in today, Kat went onto say that they'd be meeting early tomorrow.
'Well,' said Holly, '10.30 anyway.' To me, that's not early. A full days work is 9 to 5, maybe later! 5 hours is not a full days work. After having a good laugh, and turning down the invite to go and watch Jeremy Kyle with the two beautiful young ladies, they left (spending time with beautiful young ladies is good, watching Jeremy Kyle is bad - I think the two even out, so I'm not quite gay for not going with them [unless 'watch Jeremy Kyle with us' is a euphemism for something else... bugger, should look into that]).
Anyways, that left me free to get back on my laptop. And finish watching Top Gear on BBC iPlayer - now that's a full day's work...
Now, as I was saying, they appeared at my desk, and it was 3.30. 'We're going back to my place to watch Jeremy Kyle,' said Holly.
'I thought that you said you were putting in a whole day's work today,' I replied somewhat bemused. I knew that I would be in the library until 6, having started at 10. After stating that they had put alot of effort in today, Kat went onto say that they'd be meeting early tomorrow.
'Well,' said Holly, '10.30 anyway.' To me, that's not early. A full days work is 9 to 5, maybe later! 5 hours is not a full days work. After having a good laugh, and turning down the invite to go and watch Jeremy Kyle with the two beautiful young ladies, they left (spending time with beautiful young ladies is good, watching Jeremy Kyle is bad - I think the two even out, so I'm not quite gay for not going with them [unless 'watch Jeremy Kyle with us' is a euphemism for something else... bugger, should look into that]).
Anyways, that left me free to get back on my laptop. And finish watching Top Gear on BBC iPlayer - now that's a full day's work...
Friday, November 14, 2008
What now!?!?!?
It started off as a reasonable day. Late start at Uni = lay in! If only the day had continued so well...
I left the house for Uni at 12 (which spookily was about the time Thunderbirds finished on Sci-Fi), intent on finding some slide binders for the NTC safety regulations, and having a luxury McDonald's lunch (and people wonder why I'm not in a relationship, when I live such a high life). Bing bang bosh, arrive at Holly's house for 1. Nah. I went to Staples, Rymans, WHS Smith, and even Woolworths (I was desperate) looking for these damn slide binders. None big enough.
So, aggrevated with that, I rode off to McDonald's, and then waited the rest of time to buy a value meal. I walked in, and though 'yes, only three people in front of me'. Silly me. I kid you not, the 4 people at the desk ordering didn't change in 10 minutes. I don't have a clue what was going on. All that I know is that serving people they weren't. After 20 minutes, I eventually received my burger. Which was okay.
And onto to University, or not. I got stuck at the level crossing. I got stuck at the level crossing for just long enough to receive, read, and send a text, write my dissertation, produce an award winning novel, read the complete works of William Shakespeare, and invent a new form of theoretical quantum thermonuclear biodynamics. After all of that, the gates were still down. So, I restarted my engine, to go another way. Y'all know where this is going. I got 100 metres away, and , yes you've guessed it, the gates went up.
All this made my quite miserable. Still, doing 6 mph up the narrowest lane in the world always cheers me up. (for legal reasons, all speeds in this document have probably been changed by a factor of somewhere between 1 and 10, but for legal reasons, they may not have been - I think that clears everything up).
I left the house for Uni at 12 (which spookily was about the time Thunderbirds finished on Sci-Fi), intent on finding some slide binders for the NTC safety regulations, and having a luxury McDonald's lunch (and people wonder why I'm not in a relationship, when I live such a high life). Bing bang bosh, arrive at Holly's house for 1. Nah. I went to Staples, Rymans, WHS Smith, and even Woolworths (I was desperate) looking for these damn slide binders. None big enough.
So, aggrevated with that, I rode off to McDonald's, and then waited the rest of time to buy a value meal. I walked in, and though 'yes, only three people in front of me'. Silly me. I kid you not, the 4 people at the desk ordering didn't change in 10 minutes. I don't have a clue what was going on. All that I know is that serving people they weren't. After 20 minutes, I eventually received my burger. Which was okay.
And onto to University, or not. I got stuck at the level crossing. I got stuck at the level crossing for just long enough to receive, read, and send a text, write my dissertation, produce an award winning novel, read the complete works of William Shakespeare, and invent a new form of theoretical quantum thermonuclear biodynamics. After all of that, the gates were still down. So, I restarted my engine, to go another way. Y'all know where this is going. I got 100 metres away, and , yes you've guessed it, the gates went up.
All this made my quite miserable. Still, doing 6 mph up the narrowest lane in the world always cheers me up. (for legal reasons, all speeds in this document have probably been changed by a factor of somewhere between 1 and 10, but for legal reasons, they may not have been - I think that clears everything up).
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Something more interesting (and a trip to the zoo)
More interesting, you say. You also want another mention. Well you're just not going to get it.
Firstly, a bit of scandle at University. One of my friends (Holly, I gave you a name mention) is a warden of one of the halls of residence. We have lunch together on Wednesday's, and I meet many of her residents. As Holly is the warden, all problems get reported to her. One of her residents came in, looking a little embarresed. 'My bed is broken' she said. Before all of your filthy minds race (as mine did), she explained that it's been dodgy since she moved in, and that as she sat down on it, one of the legs finally broke. To complete the scandle, her boyfriend, one of Holly's housemates, and also a presenter of Top Gear (he's a lot taller in real life), came in later, and admitted that the bed had 'definately got worse'.
I also went to a zoo this evening. I have been told that the last time I attended a meeting, my comments on this blog may have been rather... close to the knuckle. Well, it was a public meeting. But my trip to the zoo wasn't. So I can't make any amusing comments about how all the animals were fighting with each other. Apparently, some of the animals have been fighting the same arguments for years. I thought Darwin's theory of evolution said that one would finally come out on top, and survive, but many of these animals were old. In fact, maybe it's less of a zoo, and more Jarassic Park?
Anyway, the zoo keeper stopped many of the fights, and I only spent a short time there. It would have finished earlier, but I opened a can of worms to add to the zoo, and the zoo keeper had to have a severe talk. Unfortunatly, it was to one of my more favourite animals (and I am fond of several of them). There was also quite a vicious attack from one of the slothes (it's amazing what energy they can find, and how much trouble they can cause), and several of us did do our best to defend the victim from the attack. I just have to wonder what animal I will turn into, if I keep going to the zoo?
I think I coped with that well, and hopefully been entertaining as well. If you'd like to complain, please send your complaint in full to the BBC (they're getting quite good at receiving complaints...).
Firstly, a bit of scandle at University. One of my friends (Holly, I gave you a name mention) is a warden of one of the halls of residence. We have lunch together on Wednesday's, and I meet many of her residents. As Holly is the warden, all problems get reported to her. One of her residents came in, looking a little embarresed. 'My bed is broken' she said. Before all of your filthy minds race (as mine did), she explained that it's been dodgy since she moved in, and that as she sat down on it, one of the legs finally broke. To complete the scandle, her boyfriend, one of Holly's housemates, and also a presenter of Top Gear (he's a lot taller in real life), came in later, and admitted that the bed had 'definately got worse'.
I also went to a zoo this evening. I have been told that the last time I attended a meeting, my comments on this blog may have been rather... close to the knuckle. Well, it was a public meeting. But my trip to the zoo wasn't. So I can't make any amusing comments about how all the animals were fighting with each other. Apparently, some of the animals have been fighting the same arguments for years. I thought Darwin's theory of evolution said that one would finally come out on top, and survive, but many of these animals were old. In fact, maybe it's less of a zoo, and more Jarassic Park?
Anyway, the zoo keeper stopped many of the fights, and I only spent a short time there. It would have finished earlier, but I opened a can of worms to add to the zoo, and the zoo keeper had to have a severe talk. Unfortunatly, it was to one of my more favourite animals (and I am fond of several of them). There was also quite a vicious attack from one of the slothes (it's amazing what energy they can find, and how much trouble they can cause), and several of us did do our best to defend the victim from the attack. I just have to wonder what animal I will turn into, if I keep going to the zoo?
I think I coped with that well, and hopefully been entertaining as well. If you'd like to complain, please send your complaint in full to the BBC (they're getting quite good at receiving complaints...).
Dull, dull, dull, dull, dull...
And once again I find myself writing a blog post instead of actually doing some work. You would not believe how dull my life is at the moment. No, even duller than what you think. Worst still, it's November, and I'm beginning to notice that I get miserable every November. So not only am I leading the world's dullest life right now, but I'm also feeling grumpy and miserable.
But in other news, I found out that my University, and the barmy people/ homosexuals from the art and dance and music department, are putting on an 18 hour non-stop performance. Firstly, who in their right mind would agree to that? Secondly, who in their right mind would watch that? As you all read my blog, I guess you're the kind of person who may want to watch it, so here's the link: www.chi.ac.uk/vexations. If that wasn't odd enough, it says that the performance is being directed by world famous concert pianist such and such, Head of keyboard at the university. I don't know about you, but I find two things odd. If he's a world famous concert pianist (I have images of a huge grand piano), why is he only head of keyboard? Keyboard! Also, if he's so great, why is he directing, and not playing a keyboard or piano or something?
I told you my life was dull. (although I did get one assignment done yesterday, now making 2 out of 5)
But in other news, I found out that my University, and the barmy people/ homosexuals from the art and dance and music department, are putting on an 18 hour non-stop performance. Firstly, who in their right mind would agree to that? Secondly, who in their right mind would watch that? As you all read my blog, I guess you're the kind of person who may want to watch it, so here's the link: www.chi.ac.uk/vexations. If that wasn't odd enough, it says that the performance is being directed by world famous concert pianist such and such, Head of keyboard at the university. I don't know about you, but I find two things odd. If he's a world famous concert pianist (I have images of a huge grand piano), why is he only head of keyboard? Keyboard! Also, if he's so great, why is he directing, and not playing a keyboard or piano or something?
I told you my life was dull. (although I did get one assignment done yesterday, now making 2 out of 5)
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
I think that might have been a mistoke...
Sally hew clanging lust obe latter on tach ward teally corks un that I an prying bo ray! Tor examtle, 'string winds' instoad if 'strong winds'. Thunks tor mointing thet oot Sian.
Just a quick brain-teaser for Monday's post (because bugger all happenned). If you can work out what the above says (and no it's not some sort of old dead Latin), why not proove it by putting it in a comment. I'll reveal the corrupt answer tomorrow.
Also, I didn't really write this post in an attempt to avoid doing any work...
Just a quick brain-teaser for Monday's post (because bugger all happenned). If you can work out what the above says (and no it's not some sort of old dead Latin), why not proove it by putting it in a comment. I'll reveal the corrupt answer tomorrow.
Also, I didn't really write this post in an attempt to avoid doing any work...
Monday, November 10, 2008
Am I the only person that can tell the time?
Well, a week into this new format CATCOUK, and I think we're doing well. I even had some comments to read (even if they were full of the worst, and lowest grade of joke known to mankind, so bad in fact, that they are considered a health hazard).
I know I'm writing this Monday, but I was up until 1.30am last night (or is that this morning) finishing and printing an assignment for Uni. But I had to write a few words about yesterday. I had a conversation with the Commanding Officer of our Nautical Training Corps unit (the fantastic TS Intrepid) about what time we'd be meeting for Remembrance Day Parade. Brian finally said that we would meet at Lancing station at 9.30am. Fine.
So one would think it odd, that when I appeared at the station, all of the cadets were there, and so was, most remarkably, the Commanding Officer, Brian. Brian is never on time, and I settled long ago that I would have to factor in that he works on a different time zone to the rest of us. But here he was, five minutes early (it was 9.25 you see). I got out of the car, walked over to the cadets, and they were all tapping their wrists (like watches), and a couple of them saying one of my favourite quotes 'Five minutes early is on time, on time is late!'
What were they talking about? I was five minutes early. Or was I? Put all of the pieces together: all of the cadets there, all of the officers there, and most dammingly, Brian was there. The bugger had only chnaged the time we were meeting on the paperwork he gave out (that I didn't get). They all met at 9.15. I wouldn't have minded so much, but when we spoke on the phone, that's the time I said we should meet (that Brian said was to early). Scumbag. Sir.
Also, I had to print out all of the really exciting new safety regulations for the NTC. I had been told to meet some of the National Council members at National Headquaters (NHQ) at 3pm. So I was there at 2.55pm, in the very string winds, and rain. At 3.30, they finally arrived. That doesn't sound so bad, but I had to park a long way away, so I had to stand outside in the cold the whole time. My life is just too exciting - why aren't there hundreds of women lining up to date me?
I know I'm writing this Monday, but I was up until 1.30am last night (or is that this morning) finishing and printing an assignment for Uni. But I had to write a few words about yesterday. I had a conversation with the Commanding Officer of our Nautical Training Corps unit (the fantastic TS Intrepid) about what time we'd be meeting for Remembrance Day Parade. Brian finally said that we would meet at Lancing station at 9.30am. Fine.
So one would think it odd, that when I appeared at the station, all of the cadets were there, and so was, most remarkably, the Commanding Officer, Brian. Brian is never on time, and I settled long ago that I would have to factor in that he works on a different time zone to the rest of us. But here he was, five minutes early (it was 9.25 you see). I got out of the car, walked over to the cadets, and they were all tapping their wrists (like watches), and a couple of them saying one of my favourite quotes 'Five minutes early is on time, on time is late!'
What were they talking about? I was five minutes early. Or was I? Put all of the pieces together: all of the cadets there, all of the officers there, and most dammingly, Brian was there. The bugger had only chnaged the time we were meeting on the paperwork he gave out (that I didn't get). They all met at 9.15. I wouldn't have minded so much, but when we spoke on the phone, that's the time I said we should meet (that Brian said was to early). Scumbag. Sir.
Also, I had to print out all of the really exciting new safety regulations for the NTC. I had been told to meet some of the National Council members at National Headquaters (NHQ) at 3pm. So I was there at 2.55pm, in the very string winds, and rain. At 3.30, they finally arrived. That doesn't sound so bad, but I had to park a long way away, so I had to stand outside in the cold the whole time. My life is just too exciting - why aren't there hundreds of women lining up to date me?
Friday, November 07, 2008
Ernie's not really a morning car...
As you should all know, I am a University student. One of the many joys of this, is that I get to run really dull - I mean exciting tests in the University's labs. This morning, for one of our assignments, we had to run a lab test. It started at 7am. Well, living half an hour away, and having a fairly minor role to play (and being so enthusiastic about it), I said I'd be there at 7.30, still in plenty of time to start testing at 8.10am.
For a change, I was up, and out of bed in plenty of time (dark and early at 6.30). Had some breakfast, washed, and threw on some clothes. All ready for the day, laptard in hand (it's starting to get... very... very... slow), I jumped in to the glamourous Mark IV Escort that is Ernie. Turned the key in the ignition, and got... moom... moom... moom moom moom... moom... moooom. Bugger.
The battery is in desperate need of replacing. Once he's going, Ernie has really regained all of his power. Waiting at a roundabout earlier this week, I got bored (after 3 or 4 minutes of waiting for a break in the traffic). So, seeing the smallest of gaps that even my bike would struggle to zip through, I employed some Jeremy Clarkson mentality (no, not make an inappropriate joke about lorrie drivers killing prostitutes), and put my foot down. Wheel spinning onto the roundabout, I got through the gap, and left the roundabout before you could say 'classic car'.
Anyways, I have digressed. So, flat battery. Very early in the morning, so no-one else is up. No jump starts then. But for Christmas, I bourght Dad one of those 'Jump Starter Packs'. I thought I'd just use that. Where's the obvious place to look? In the garage? Back of Dad's car? On charge in the hall? Next to the old dead pack, still on charge in the conservatory? Of course not. When Dad came downstairs 15 minutes later, I had over looked (and you haven't thought of) the most obvious place - in the kitchen, next to the microwave. If you can tell me why it would be there, put your answer on the back of a postcard, and send it in...
For a change, I was up, and out of bed in plenty of time (dark and early at 6.30). Had some breakfast, washed, and threw on some clothes. All ready for the day, laptard in hand (it's starting to get... very... very... slow), I jumped in to the glamourous Mark IV Escort that is Ernie. Turned the key in the ignition, and got... moom... moom... moom moom moom... moom... moooom. Bugger.
The battery is in desperate need of replacing. Once he's going, Ernie has really regained all of his power. Waiting at a roundabout earlier this week, I got bored (after 3 or 4 minutes of waiting for a break in the traffic). So, seeing the smallest of gaps that even my bike would struggle to zip through, I employed some Jeremy Clarkson mentality (no, not make an inappropriate joke about lorrie drivers killing prostitutes), and put my foot down. Wheel spinning onto the roundabout, I got through the gap, and left the roundabout before you could say 'classic car'.
Anyways, I have digressed. So, flat battery. Very early in the morning, so no-one else is up. No jump starts then. But for Christmas, I bourght Dad one of those 'Jump Starter Packs'. I thought I'd just use that. Where's the obvious place to look? In the garage? Back of Dad's car? On charge in the hall? Next to the old dead pack, still on charge in the conservatory? Of course not. When Dad came downstairs 15 minutes later, I had over looked (and you haven't thought of) the most obvious place - in the kitchen, next to the microwave. If you can tell me why it would be there, put your answer on the back of a postcard, and send it in...
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Flora of Sussex!
Not a very exciting title, but I am going somehwere with this. You may, or may not be aware, that at University, I am also known as Flora. Although it sounds like a strange nickname, I really miss not being called Flora when I'm not at Uni. The name comes from my first year when I was (and still am I hope) very pro-active (get things done, be helpful). So, after the popular margarine, I am called Flora (pro-active).
At the moment, I am identifying 20 plants for a collection as part of one of my University assignment. It's very exciti... Sorry, I fell asleep there. What was I saying? Oh yes, so I am doing this plant collection, and I wanted a book to help me out (no Sian, this isn't cheating, but how I use the book to complete my collection may be a little underhanded). The Universities two libraries have some books on Sussex plants. Our two libraries have a grand total of... two books. One of which is in deep and darkest storage. So the book I ended up with is called (thinking about the title)... that's right - Flora of Sussex.
When telling my friends at University, several chuckled, and asked if it was a book about me (as I am Flora, and I am from Sussex). Having thought about it, with a title like that, it does make my nickname sound like some comic Viking Invader... Flora of Sussex!
At the moment, I am identifying 20 plants for a collection as part of one of my University assignment. It's very exciti... Sorry, I fell asleep there. What was I saying? Oh yes, so I am doing this plant collection, and I wanted a book to help me out (no Sian, this isn't cheating, but how I use the book to complete my collection may be a little underhanded). The Universities two libraries have some books on Sussex plants. Our two libraries have a grand total of... two books. One of which is in deep and darkest storage. So the book I ended up with is called (thinking about the title)... that's right - Flora of Sussex.
When telling my friends at University, several chuckled, and asked if it was a book about me (as I am Flora, and I am from Sussex). Having thought about it, with a title like that, it does make my nickname sound like some comic Viking Invader... Flora of Sussex!
Well that was quick...
Having spent all day researching plants, I was really looking forward to going to Guildford Torchlight procession. It has to be the best band parade that we do. After getting a few suprise cadets join us, and weaving our way through the diabolical traffic, we eventually got there. In a record 10 minutes, we were ready to play alongside our sister ship, Implacable. That was the quickest we have ever set up, but we did have lots of help form Implac.
Anyways, onto the parade, and we messed up a little. First of all, we marched off (as you would expect), but a tad too early. Too early in fact for the radio car that was supposed to lead to join us. God knows where he ended up. Needless to say, they weren't impressed with that. We also had somewhere near to a million side drummers. Because side drummers are simple folk (glad I moved to playing a brass instrument), they just tapped away. With so many of them, it was almost impossible to control them. So they got faster and faster and faster. Apparently, we marched this year's 1 mile parade in just 25 minutes. 15 minutes quicker than last year! Well, I hope we aren't that fast for Remembrance Day, or the old veterans are going to get a shock...
Anyways, onto the parade, and we messed up a little. First of all, we marched off (as you would expect), but a tad too early. Too early in fact for the radio car that was supposed to lead to join us. God knows where he ended up. Needless to say, they weren't impressed with that. We also had somewhere near to a million side drummers. Because side drummers are simple folk (glad I moved to playing a brass instrument), they just tapped away. With so many of them, it was almost impossible to control them. So they got faster and faster and faster. Apparently, we marched this year's 1 mile parade in just 25 minutes. 15 minutes quicker than last year! Well, I hope we aren't that fast for Remembrance Day, or the old veterans are going to get a shock...
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Where's Lee?
One of the most remarkable thing about us University students, is our ability to confuse matters, and work on a completely different time zone. We had a lecture at 1, in a certain room. One student (the 'gadge-miester' as one of our lecturers refered to him) went to the wrong room. When he arrived, and was asked how 'S9' (the wrong room) was, he replied gloomily, 'a long way away.'
But better still, at around two o'clock, after we were into the lecture properly, and we had all forgotten about wondering where Lee was, Lee walked in quite merrily. After cheerfully greeting the lecturers, he made his way to the back, and then stopped in mid-stride, realising something was off. The entire class was staring at him, and the lecturers waiting for some sort of reaction. To be so late, and offer such a small apology, Coley would have to make some comment.
Looking around cautiously, and detecting something was up, he asked 'have I missed something?' After a ripple of laughter, and told what time the lecture actually started, a Vikky Pollard-esk (from Little Britain fame) 'What?' was heard, followed by even more laughter.
After being an hour late (which was kind of understandable, as last week's was at 2), you'd think it couldn't get any worse. But that was when Coley made yet another comment 'So if you thought you had to be here at 2, you're still 5 minutes late. It's 5 past.' What a pillock. As my friends in America would say - EPIC FAIL!
But better still, at around two o'clock, after we were into the lecture properly, and we had all forgotten about wondering where Lee was, Lee walked in quite merrily. After cheerfully greeting the lecturers, he made his way to the back, and then stopped in mid-stride, realising something was off. The entire class was staring at him, and the lecturers waiting for some sort of reaction. To be so late, and offer such a small apology, Coley would have to make some comment.
Looking around cautiously, and detecting something was up, he asked 'have I missed something?' After a ripple of laughter, and told what time the lecture actually started, a Vikky Pollard-esk (from Little Britain fame) 'What?' was heard, followed by even more laughter.
After being an hour late (which was kind of understandable, as last week's was at 2), you'd think it couldn't get any worse. But that was when Coley made yet another comment 'So if you thought you had to be here at 2, you're still 5 minutes late. It's 5 past.' What a pillock. As my friends in America would say - EPIC FAIL!
A busy day doing... er... what?
Well, this post a day thing is working well... So I'll write two to catch up. I've still got to get used to it.
Monday, Monday. Tell me why, I hate Mondays. It's just another manic Monday. All tunes with Monday in the title. All summaries of my day. But I ask you this - on a day when I didn't go to Uni, how on Earth did I end up stressed and busy? I tried to get some of my dissertation done. I'm at the stage when I have to do alot of reading, and write something meaningful. Typical isn't it - I spend two hous looking for anything remotely useful (or even vaguely interesting), and when I finally get something, I have to drive to chuffin' Brighton. And that took over 2 hours!!! Then I settle down for some dinner before band, but instead of eating it, I have to organise a cadet that can't get himself to band. Then after band, I have to run around Lancing dropping off shuffleboards, picking up band dressings, and attending a Lions meeting. And to top it all, what do you think happenned just as I arrived at the Lions meeting - yep, they finished the meeting. Fan-bloody-tastic.
Monday, Monday. Tell me why, I hate Mondays. It's just another manic Monday. All tunes with Monday in the title. All summaries of my day. But I ask you this - on a day when I didn't go to Uni, how on Earth did I end up stressed and busy? I tried to get some of my dissertation done. I'm at the stage when I have to do alot of reading, and write something meaningful. Typical isn't it - I spend two hous looking for anything remotely useful (or even vaguely interesting), and when I finally get something, I have to drive to chuffin' Brighton. And that took over 2 hours!!! Then I settle down for some dinner before band, but instead of eating it, I have to organise a cadet that can't get himself to band. Then after band, I have to run around Lancing dropping off shuffleboards, picking up band dressings, and attending a Lions meeting. And to top it all, what do you think happenned just as I arrived at the Lions meeting - yep, they finished the meeting. Fan-bloody-tastic.
Sunday, November 02, 2008
CATCOUK is going on a diet
Hello all. I think we can all agree that I simply don't have time to sit down for an hour on a Sunday evening, and write a load of dribble to entertain the masses. But instead of calling it a night, and in an attempt to provide you with the 'entertainment' that you want, this blog is going bitesize!
'What does this mean?' I hear both of you ask. Well, I will try and write some very short posts every day, so that if you want to continue reading weekly, you can. And there should be a couple of amusing things waiting there for you. But this new style also means that you can drop in daily, and pick your daily dribble. So, like a talented MP, I have made something crap, sound very appealing.
Sorry if you don't like the plan, but it's that or nothing.
And I can't write a post without a quick tale from my world. As many of you will know, in February I was promoted at NTC to a Commander, and made the organisation's Adventure Activities Director. As such, I have to attend many boring meetings. For example, I have just been told that I have to attend Chief of Staff meetings. I didn't even know that those kind of meetings existed! And I'll probably just sit through those meetings being very bored, and listening to old people argue with each other.
But the recent National Council meeting I attended was better entertainment that watching EastEnders. Alright, so every National Council meeting can beat crappy ol' EastEnders, but this one was on a par with Top Gear. One guy was making his report, when he said 'I have been recieving letter upon letter upon letter from a bloke in Fareham saying that he wants to open an (NTC) Unit. [Regional Commader for the area's name] - what is going on?'
'Well,' replied the regional commander, 'I know the gentleman in question, and I wouldn't recommend him as a CO.' At this point I have to say that unless he's a kiddy-fiddler (and I hope he isn't) he can't be worse than the current CO there - there isn't one! But that's besides the point. It's not like the NTC needs to open more units or it will die...
'Just one minute sir!' replied the boss in a raised heated voice. I use the term boss, as there are at least three people that fit that category, so I leave it to you to guess who. I want to protect his or her identity for a change. 'There is nothing wrong with him. I know him too, and I think it's more a case that you just don't want to open a new unit.' Arguments happen quite alot, but everyone was watching intently. But little did we know that the best was yet to come...
The aggrieved boss continued 'He's not scruffy, although I am sure he let's him self go from time to time.' Okay, still nothing that entertaining, but here it comes. Remembering that he's the boss - 'As he's a relative of mine, I know him very well.'
Oh dear me, the look on everyone's faces was a picture. The guy who started the report went fish-faced, I was struggling not to laugh, and the regional commander look like he had shrunk by 3ft, probably because he was sweating so much, and looking so red. Absolute classic. Understandably, no one said a word, as the two continued to argue the point. This was just too entertaining. Eventually, the regional commander was practically ordered to have an interview with the new guy. Fantastic.
Well that's it for now. Don't forget, with a bit of luck, I'll have a short one for you tomorrow (and yes, I do tell all the girls that...).
'What does this mean?' I hear both of you ask. Well, I will try and write some very short posts every day, so that if you want to continue reading weekly, you can. And there should be a couple of amusing things waiting there for you. But this new style also means that you can drop in daily, and pick your daily dribble. So, like a talented MP, I have made something crap, sound very appealing.
Sorry if you don't like the plan, but it's that or nothing.
And I can't write a post without a quick tale from my world. As many of you will know, in February I was promoted at NTC to a Commander, and made the organisation's Adventure Activities Director. As such, I have to attend many boring meetings. For example, I have just been told that I have to attend Chief of Staff meetings. I didn't even know that those kind of meetings existed! And I'll probably just sit through those meetings being very bored, and listening to old people argue with each other.
But the recent National Council meeting I attended was better entertainment that watching EastEnders. Alright, so every National Council meeting can beat crappy ol' EastEnders, but this one was on a par with Top Gear. One guy was making his report, when he said 'I have been recieving letter upon letter upon letter from a bloke in Fareham saying that he wants to open an (NTC) Unit. [Regional Commader for the area's name] - what is going on?'
'Well,' replied the regional commander, 'I know the gentleman in question, and I wouldn't recommend him as a CO.' At this point I have to say that unless he's a kiddy-fiddler (and I hope he isn't) he can't be worse than the current CO there - there isn't one! But that's besides the point. It's not like the NTC needs to open more units or it will die...
'Just one minute sir!' replied the boss in a raised heated voice. I use the term boss, as there are at least three people that fit that category, so I leave it to you to guess who. I want to protect his or her identity for a change. 'There is nothing wrong with him. I know him too, and I think it's more a case that you just don't want to open a new unit.' Arguments happen quite alot, but everyone was watching intently. But little did we know that the best was yet to come...
The aggrieved boss continued 'He's not scruffy, although I am sure he let's him self go from time to time.' Okay, still nothing that entertaining, but here it comes. Remembering that he's the boss - 'As he's a relative of mine, I know him very well.'
Oh dear me, the look on everyone's faces was a picture. The guy who started the report went fish-faced, I was struggling not to laugh, and the regional commander look like he had shrunk by 3ft, probably because he was sweating so much, and looking so red. Absolute classic. Understandably, no one said a word, as the two continued to argue the point. This was just too entertaining. Eventually, the regional commander was practically ordered to have an interview with the new guy. Fantastic.
Well that's it for now. Don't forget, with a bit of luck, I'll have a short one for you tomorrow (and yes, I do tell all the girls that...).
Sunday, October 26, 2008
In the meantime...
Just to tide you over, here is a video linking to the multi-award winning marching band of TS Intrepid, and their recent routine at the Nautical Training Corps National Band, Colour & Fanfare Competition. I'm not at Uni tomorrow, so I will write a post them. Although, I am interested in reading Holly's attempt at my week. I'd be interested as to what I did...
The video even features a devilishly handsome young NTC Commander playing the baritone, who is so talented, he won the 'Best baritone player that is the rank of Commander, and from TS Intrepid, and may also be called Andy'. It was agreed that this award wouldn't be presented, due to it's long title...
TS Intrepid's Marching Band Routine 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Sorry, no post...
Sorry, no post tonight. Long weekend practising for the band contest, and I still haven't got a lesson planned for Monday. Maybe later.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
So, is Ernie dead?
Okay, I winged last week, and I didn't go unheard. But I never did post. University really is busy. Take tonight - it's 1050pm, and I really need to sleep (tired after band practice all day). To top it all off, I haven't even got everything done that I need to. Sorry Brian, I guess I'll be printing that paperwork... Bugger.
But hey ho, after some of you left comments, how could I not write something. It would just be down right unsportsmanly of me. So here we go, for a quick post, so I can go to bed.
First off, I need to report back to all of you, that I have now purchased my first 3 piece suit. Pinstripe as well! Armani perhaps? Of course not - Tescos. Well, it was on offer for £40 the lot, and it's made of great material. Can't complain. So what was the first thing I did with my suit. That's right - wore it to University!
We had a 'professional poster presentation'. Basically, it's an essay written on one sheet of paper. A bloody big sheet of paper (A0 if you must know). It cost me 15 quid to print! I know, I know, it all sounds just too exciting. So, being graphically inclined, I felt that I had to spice things up a little, and break the mold of Uni posters. And if the reaction I got is to be believed - I did!
So, wearing my new pin-striped suit, I stood in front of my very unusual poster for 2 hours! (that was a loooong afternoon) All of the posters that I have seen are three or four columns of text, with basically a different backing colour and/or text. I put a black header and footer on mine, and played around with some photos. It looked at bit like a widescreen production on a normal TV screen. But I decided that there wasn't enough colour, so I threw some big red and blue strips on the background. My lecturer came up, and said, 'I can honestly say that I have never seen a poster like it. I can also honestly say no-one has ever worn a suit to this before.' He went on to say that despite the fact that he liked it, it was too 'HMV'. Basically, next time make it more boring...
The head of P.E., or a convicted drug dealer in the US. One of my friends said that I wasn't a student, and that I could be either... Me with some friends in front of my poster.
Everyone else (including that lecturer) mainly loved the look of the poster. In my opinion, the poster was just what the doctor ordered. Only thing is, no-one likes change. Still, the suit may have been a bit over the top - it was mainly as a joke though...
So, is Ernie dead? Stories have been rampant since my last post (and by rampant, I mean that there have been literally two comments about it). The short answer - no. My car has never, and never will break down. It does however, have some periods that I likie to refer to as 'lapses of function'. But it's not a break down though... Ernie went through 2 litres of oil in a week. Not petrol, but OIL. Yeah, that's generally bad news. In fact, you can see anywhere I parked last week, because there are stains on the roadway. Even at NTC, where I was only parked a few hours. So, until I effect some minor repairs... let's just say that Eric the motorbike is getting even more outings. The garage could sort Ernie out in a few hours, I just don't like spending money.
So, on that cheery note, I'm off to bed. Goodnight (which I imagine will sound odd if you are reading this during the day).
If you knew that my car would have problems, why not think about writing a comment saying I told you so, but then going and f*****g yourself.
If you can replace two O-rings on a 1986 Ford Escort 1.4 GL Estate in Champagne Gold, near the timing belt, and you would like to do it for free, why not pop 'round.
Quote of the Week: 'His car is so old, the logbook's written in Latin,' said Lion Dave at a Lions Club meeting. Cheers pal.
But hey ho, after some of you left comments, how could I not write something. It would just be down right unsportsmanly of me. So here we go, for a quick post, so I can go to bed.
First off, I need to report back to all of you, that I have now purchased my first 3 piece suit. Pinstripe as well! Armani perhaps? Of course not - Tescos. Well, it was on offer for £40 the lot, and it's made of great material. Can't complain. So what was the first thing I did with my suit. That's right - wore it to University!
We had a 'professional poster presentation'. Basically, it's an essay written on one sheet of paper. A bloody big sheet of paper (A0 if you must know). It cost me 15 quid to print! I know, I know, it all sounds just too exciting. So, being graphically inclined, I felt that I had to spice things up a little, and break the mold of Uni posters. And if the reaction I got is to be believed - I did!
So, wearing my new pin-striped suit, I stood in front of my very unusual poster for 2 hours! (that was a loooong afternoon) All of the posters that I have seen are three or four columns of text, with basically a different backing colour and/or text. I put a black header and footer on mine, and played around with some photos. It looked at bit like a widescreen production on a normal TV screen. But I decided that there wasn't enough colour, so I threw some big red and blue strips on the background. My lecturer came up, and said, 'I can honestly say that I have never seen a poster like it. I can also honestly say no-one has ever worn a suit to this before.' He went on to say that despite the fact that he liked it, it was too 'HMV'. Basically, next time make it more boring...
The head of P.E., or a convicted drug dealer in the US. One of my friends said that I wasn't a student, and that I could be either... Me with some friends in front of my poster.
Everyone else (including that lecturer) mainly loved the look of the poster. In my opinion, the poster was just what the doctor ordered. Only thing is, no-one likes change. Still, the suit may have been a bit over the top - it was mainly as a joke though...
So, is Ernie dead? Stories have been rampant since my last post (and by rampant, I mean that there have been literally two comments about it). The short answer - no. My car has never, and never will break down. It does however, have some periods that I likie to refer to as 'lapses of function'. But it's not a break down though... Ernie went through 2 litres of oil in a week. Not petrol, but OIL. Yeah, that's generally bad news. In fact, you can see anywhere I parked last week, because there are stains on the roadway. Even at NTC, where I was only parked a few hours. So, until I effect some minor repairs... let's just say that Eric the motorbike is getting even more outings. The garage could sort Ernie out in a few hours, I just don't like spending money.
So, on that cheery note, I'm off to bed. Goodnight (which I imagine will sound odd if you are reading this during the day).
If you knew that my car would have problems, why not think about writing a comment saying I told you so, but then going and f*****g yourself.
If you can replace two O-rings on a 1986 Ford Escort 1.4 GL Estate in Champagne Gold, near the timing belt, and you would like to do it for free, why not pop 'round.
Quote of the Week: 'His car is so old, the logbook's written in Latin,' said Lion Dave at a Lions Club meeting. Cheers pal.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Just charming
Well that's just charming that is. I go out of my way last week to give you guys a post that's on time for a change, and not a single bloomin' one of you could be troubled to leave a comment.
Stuff you then. Despite the fact that I could now write a post, despite the fact that it's 10.40pm, and despite the fact I have spent a very stressful day with the marching band, and written a dissertation proposal, I'm not going to.
Now you'll never know about the adventures of Thursday night where my car was broken into, and Dad and I chased the Turkeys. you'll never know what they stole, or how/ if we caught them. You'll never know about the possible plans that my long running/ long suffering 1986 Ford Escort 1.4 GL estate in Champagne Gold could be replaced. I hope you're happy now...
I can't stop this rant without cheerfully wishing everybody a happy escort day. September the 25th (despite being more than a week ago, and I may have forgotton) is International (Ford) Escort day, and this year we all celebrate three happpy, and unbelievably reliable motoring with Ernie the Escort. Three years, and 35 000 miles for just £300. Ernie is a fantastic car - long may he reign...
See, I'm so upset, I'm not even leaving a quote of the week, or a tune of the month (even though it would have been a toss up between that new Sugarbabes tune, and the new 'Steve McQueen' dittie from The Automatic).
Maybe if some comments appear, I may indulge myself to write a post. Maybe.
Stuff you then. Despite the fact that I could now write a post, despite the fact that it's 10.40pm, and despite the fact I have spent a very stressful day with the marching band, and written a dissertation proposal, I'm not going to.
Now you'll never know about the adventures of Thursday night where my car was broken into, and Dad and I chased the Turkeys. you'll never know what they stole, or how/ if we caught them. You'll never know about the possible plans that my long running/ long suffering 1986 Ford Escort 1.4 GL estate in Champagne Gold could be replaced. I hope you're happy now...
I can't stop this rant without cheerfully wishing everybody a happy escort day. September the 25th (despite being more than a week ago, and I may have forgotton) is International (Ford) Escort day, and this year we all celebrate three happpy, and unbelievably reliable motoring with Ernie the Escort. Three years, and 35 000 miles for just £300. Ernie is a fantastic car - long may he reign...
See, I'm so upset, I'm not even leaving a quote of the week, or a tune of the month (even though it would have been a toss up between that new Sugarbabes tune, and the new 'Steve McQueen' dittie from The Automatic).
Maybe if some comments appear, I may indulge myself to write a post. Maybe.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Oh my goodness, a post on time!!!
Good evening!
Well, isn't this ironic. The first blog post I have managed to write up on time, and I can't think of anything to write up. So here we go. Hold on tight, as I ramble my way through yet another blog post, here on the wonderful blog of CATCOUK...
As I have tried to point out, and I'm not sure whether I have got my point accross, but University is very, very, VERY busy. We don't really have many lectures, but we do have plenty of assignments. Now, a 1000 word essay is only really two pages of text. I know that I can write two pages of text in maybe 30 minutes, or even less if I know what I want to say. Just ask anyone in the NTC that has read either my new safety administration regulations, or the National Camp Guidebook. They'll tell you that I can do.
So with that in mind, how difficult can these assignments be? If it only takes 30 minmutes to write 1000 words, what am I complaining about. If only I knew what I wanted to say. On top of the actual writing, which barely takes any time at all, I have to research what I am writing about, fully reference what I'm writing, and try and get interested in the subject. If the subject is interesting to me, I'm laughing. Unfortunately it seems that most of the stuff I'm doing this term is a load of old horse hockey.
But it was with great pride, that I printed an A0 size poster (that's over a metre wide!). I took great care in designing it, and I love playing about with graphics. I wanted a finished product that would completely break the mold of standard looking academic posters. And apparently the time I spent on it was worth it. When one of my friends saw it being printed, Kat thought that it couldn't be anything to do with our projects. Marvellous.
Several people said that they really liked the look of the poster, and used words like 'amazing'. Well that's great, but I don't think that the lecturers will settle at looking at the graphic design elements of the poster. So it may look pretty, but the essay content is probably a load of old dribble...
One of the highlights of my week however, was kayaking in Chichester canal. Well, that's a lie actually, the real highlight for me, was getting back in the saddle as it were, and arguing with one of our senior lecturers. Som would call me brave, most merely stupid. But I have never like bullies, and I never will. Both from a youth working point of view, and from a personal point of view.
As a high school student, I only ever got into one fight. This 6ft goon called my best friend a name, making fun of his religious nature. The bully alarm went off in my head, and I made some remark. Following that, he pushed me to the ground, and started repeatedly trying to kick me in the head. I have never been the tallest, and as a sixteen-year old, I certainly wasn't taller than this 6ft lumiox. Anyways, after I produced a two footed kick from my shoulder blades, directed at his gentals, he looked quite sore, and was suspended for 6 weeks. I didn't have a mark on me, and I got back on my stool, and straightened my tie. I don't like bullies.
Anyway, going back to my original topic, this particular lecture, 'Coley' likes to think of himself as a bit of a hardnut. You know the type, stereotypical head of PE at high school. Well, he pretty much bullies most people into things, and most students are scared of him. I never have been, and I always stand up to assist my fellow students who fall foul of him, and his wicked use of language.
It's still fairly early in the morning, and I have just finished unpacking the trailer. I'm a little dazed, and wondering what to do next. Just as I think about getting my dry suit on, Coley, seeing me standing doing nothing, chirps up with: 'Are you ready to go on the water?'.
'Nearly,' I reply, 'I'm just getting changed'. I'm obviously not changing, although I am in the process of walking towards my bag. Coley doesn't like this 'attitude', and fake threatens me if I don't keep my mouth free of sarcastic replies. After point out that I merely gave him an accurate response to his caustic question (well, I was heading towards my bag to get changed), he warned me how nasty he can be. I don't want to get him in trouble, so it's worth pointing out that all of his threats were of course idle and slightly jokey. But he was clearly getting a bit peeved.
Not to be outdone, and to have the last word, I raised my voice a little, so that my fellow students could all here me. 'Surely not Ian [being his first name], not old 'cuddly Coley'...'. Many of the students giggled at the gall of my statement, and the other lecture tried to supress a laugh, and then looked at me, shaking his head. 'Fourth yearm and you still don't know when to stop.' Well, actualy I do, and I prooved it. When I've made fun of Coley, and I've had the last word/ laugh. What Coley started, I finished, making fun of him in the process. Win!
Later on, I was put in this aircraft carrier of a kayak. It was just like a rocket car - in a straight line it was great, but it took forever to turn around. Also, because of it's V-shaped hull, it was very wobbly. Coley noticed me on the water, and said that me capsizing right now would make his day. I never did. I won't win every battle with Coley, but the point that I can win, where other students wouldn't dare, is reason enough for me to try. Having said that, I like to think that Coley and I share a friendly rivalry, where each of us consider ourselves better than the other. Obviously the fact that I realise this, makes me a better person than Coley...
I can't finish this post without telling you of the relaxing weekend I enjoyed. Oh that's right, it wasn't relaxing at all. After a 5.30am wake up, I was standing at Adur Rec in the mist and the fog helping to run a carboot sale for the NTC. It was good fun. I argued with two punters, and as each of them drove off, I shouted cheerfully after them 'HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY SIR!' I also had to start 4 cars - jump start three with flat batteries with Dad's car (Ernie was at home), and one who thought she had a flat battery. When we jump started her, everything sounded fine, it just wasn't starting. At this point I asked 'Does it have plenty of fuel.'
Well, this lady drive looked at her guage and said, 'well the symbol is flashing, but that doesn't mean it's empty does it?' Sigh - I'm not going to make any comments about women drivers...
But hey-ho. We made a fair few quid. And I have to say, I was most impressed, and pleasently suprised about how much we received in public donations. Over £250! Incredible considering all of the economic misery that is descending upon us...
Lastly, today we had our first weekend band practice, in preparation for the band contest at the end of October. We have some new officers on the unit, and I am very keen for them to take the band on. Dad's also getting very interested and committed. Marvellous. So, since I came back from the US, I have sat on my hands, and said nothing. No matter how many things were going on that I probbaly wouldn't have.
But I couldn't do it anymore. I was broken today. I don't wish to make Tyler, our wonderful bandmaster, or John, or is another exceptional officer, feel bad, but I couldn't hold on any more. After a solid hour of what can only be described as faffing, I had to step in, and kick some backsides. The cadets were moping around, and not really engaged. Well if there is one thing I can do, it's to kick people in the behind, and get them motivated. Despite a very looong day, and a very busy day, we now have a complete routine, pretty much from scrap. I even found time to make some stuff up today, to fill in the gaps. But I didn't really do that much. Tyler had set everything up, all I did was steer the cadets in the right direction, and get us going. Unfortunatly, I'm still pretty new at my instrument, and I really need to practice playing and marching. Bugger.
Well, I think I've rambled through that quite well. Have a good one, and see you soon.
If you think that I made this up on the spot, and it was rubbish, why not leave a comment, where you try to write something better.
If you think that I made this up, and did it pretty well, why not leave a comment and an address, so that I know where to send the details for alcoholics anonymous.
Quote of the Week: 'Well, the symbols flashing, but that doesn't mean it's completely out of fuel does it?' Duh! Cars need petrol to move!!!
Well, isn't this ironic. The first blog post I have managed to write up on time, and I can't think of anything to write up. So here we go. Hold on tight, as I ramble my way through yet another blog post, here on the wonderful blog of CATCOUK...
As I have tried to point out, and I'm not sure whether I have got my point accross, but University is very, very, VERY busy. We don't really have many lectures, but we do have plenty of assignments. Now, a 1000 word essay is only really two pages of text. I know that I can write two pages of text in maybe 30 minutes, or even less if I know what I want to say. Just ask anyone in the NTC that has read either my new safety administration regulations, or the National Camp Guidebook. They'll tell you that I can do.
So with that in mind, how difficult can these assignments be? If it only takes 30 minmutes to write 1000 words, what am I complaining about. If only I knew what I wanted to say. On top of the actual writing, which barely takes any time at all, I have to research what I am writing about, fully reference what I'm writing, and try and get interested in the subject. If the subject is interesting to me, I'm laughing. Unfortunately it seems that most of the stuff I'm doing this term is a load of old horse hockey.
But it was with great pride, that I printed an A0 size poster (that's over a metre wide!). I took great care in designing it, and I love playing about with graphics. I wanted a finished product that would completely break the mold of standard looking academic posters. And apparently the time I spent on it was worth it. When one of my friends saw it being printed, Kat thought that it couldn't be anything to do with our projects. Marvellous.
Several people said that they really liked the look of the poster, and used words like 'amazing'. Well that's great, but I don't think that the lecturers will settle at looking at the graphic design elements of the poster. So it may look pretty, but the essay content is probably a load of old dribble...
One of the highlights of my week however, was kayaking in Chichester canal. Well, that's a lie actually, the real highlight for me, was getting back in the saddle as it were, and arguing with one of our senior lecturers. Som would call me brave, most merely stupid. But I have never like bullies, and I never will. Both from a youth working point of view, and from a personal point of view.
As a high school student, I only ever got into one fight. This 6ft goon called my best friend a name, making fun of his religious nature. The bully alarm went off in my head, and I made some remark. Following that, he pushed me to the ground, and started repeatedly trying to kick me in the head. I have never been the tallest, and as a sixteen-year old, I certainly wasn't taller than this 6ft lumiox. Anyways, after I produced a two footed kick from my shoulder blades, directed at his gentals, he looked quite sore, and was suspended for 6 weeks. I didn't have a mark on me, and I got back on my stool, and straightened my tie. I don't like bullies.
Anyway, going back to my original topic, this particular lecture, 'Coley' likes to think of himself as a bit of a hardnut. You know the type, stereotypical head of PE at high school. Well, he pretty much bullies most people into things, and most students are scared of him. I never have been, and I always stand up to assist my fellow students who fall foul of him, and his wicked use of language.
It's still fairly early in the morning, and I have just finished unpacking the trailer. I'm a little dazed, and wondering what to do next. Just as I think about getting my dry suit on, Coley, seeing me standing doing nothing, chirps up with: 'Are you ready to go on the water?'.
'Nearly,' I reply, 'I'm just getting changed'. I'm obviously not changing, although I am in the process of walking towards my bag. Coley doesn't like this 'attitude', and fake threatens me if I don't keep my mouth free of sarcastic replies. After point out that I merely gave him an accurate response to his caustic question (well, I was heading towards my bag to get changed), he warned me how nasty he can be. I don't want to get him in trouble, so it's worth pointing out that all of his threats were of course idle and slightly jokey. But he was clearly getting a bit peeved.
Not to be outdone, and to have the last word, I raised my voice a little, so that my fellow students could all here me. 'Surely not Ian [being his first name], not old 'cuddly Coley'...'. Many of the students giggled at the gall of my statement, and the other lecture tried to supress a laugh, and then looked at me, shaking his head. 'Fourth yearm and you still don't know when to stop.' Well, actualy I do, and I prooved it. When I've made fun of Coley, and I've had the last word/ laugh. What Coley started, I finished, making fun of him in the process. Win!
Later on, I was put in this aircraft carrier of a kayak. It was just like a rocket car - in a straight line it was great, but it took forever to turn around. Also, because of it's V-shaped hull, it was very wobbly. Coley noticed me on the water, and said that me capsizing right now would make his day. I never did. I won't win every battle with Coley, but the point that I can win, where other students wouldn't dare, is reason enough for me to try. Having said that, I like to think that Coley and I share a friendly rivalry, where each of us consider ourselves better than the other. Obviously the fact that I realise this, makes me a better person than Coley...
I can't finish this post without telling you of the relaxing weekend I enjoyed. Oh that's right, it wasn't relaxing at all. After a 5.30am wake up, I was standing at Adur Rec in the mist and the fog helping to run a carboot sale for the NTC. It was good fun. I argued with two punters, and as each of them drove off, I shouted cheerfully after them 'HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY SIR!' I also had to start 4 cars - jump start three with flat batteries with Dad's car (Ernie was at home), and one who thought she had a flat battery. When we jump started her, everything sounded fine, it just wasn't starting. At this point I asked 'Does it have plenty of fuel.'
Well, this lady drive looked at her guage and said, 'well the symbol is flashing, but that doesn't mean it's empty does it?' Sigh - I'm not going to make any comments about women drivers...
But hey-ho. We made a fair few quid. And I have to say, I was most impressed, and pleasently suprised about how much we received in public donations. Over £250! Incredible considering all of the economic misery that is descending upon us...
Lastly, today we had our first weekend band practice, in preparation for the band contest at the end of October. We have some new officers on the unit, and I am very keen for them to take the band on. Dad's also getting very interested and committed. Marvellous. So, since I came back from the US, I have sat on my hands, and said nothing. No matter how many things were going on that I probbaly wouldn't have.
But I couldn't do it anymore. I was broken today. I don't wish to make Tyler, our wonderful bandmaster, or John, or is another exceptional officer, feel bad, but I couldn't hold on any more. After a solid hour of what can only be described as faffing, I had to step in, and kick some backsides. The cadets were moping around, and not really engaged. Well if there is one thing I can do, it's to kick people in the behind, and get them motivated. Despite a very looong day, and a very busy day, we now have a complete routine, pretty much from scrap. I even found time to make some stuff up today, to fill in the gaps. But I didn't really do that much. Tyler had set everything up, all I did was steer the cadets in the right direction, and get us going. Unfortunatly, I'm still pretty new at my instrument, and I really need to practice playing and marching. Bugger.
Well, I think I've rambled through that quite well. Have a good one, and see you soon.
If you think that I made this up on the spot, and it was rubbish, why not leave a comment, where you try to write something better.
If you think that I made this up, and did it pretty well, why not leave a comment and an address, so that I know where to send the details for alcoholics anonymous.
Quote of the Week: 'Well, the symbols flashing, but that doesn't mean it's completely out of fuel does it?' Duh! Cars need petrol to move!!!
Thursday, September 25, 2008
I PROBE-ably shouldn't PROBE into this, by asking any PROBING questions...
I think that that title may have to win an award, for the most content related single punn, of any blog post title.
Well, I may be several days late posting, but as Siobhan demands entertainment, so I'll put up a short post. And I have to say, I have a fantastic subject for this week's post. It's all about very high-brow academic university lab testing.
As you should now know, I have returned to the grand old University of Chichester to complete my final year of Adventure Education. Of the 28 or so student on my course, 1 person is glad to be back. What can I say, I just enjoy their company!
One of my pet hates, has always been biology. And a subject that is even worse than biology (and I wasn't sure that that was possible) is PHYSIOLOGY! Oh good goodness, how I detest physiology. I just can't engage in the subject (which is bad news, as I struggle to do well in subjects that I'm not interested in). One of the things we have to do for our physiology module, is to carry out lab tests. I personally would much rather spend those two hours beating my head to a bloody pulp against a brick wall somewhere. But hey, that's just me.
But this year, for our final year of University, where everything is that much more advanced, we are using an environmental chamber. The first time we walked in there, one of my fellow students uttered 'Anyone ever heard of mustard gas?' And he was right - the place looks like an American gas chamber! Very spooky. So far, this all sounds pretty cool - we get to play with a room where we are in charge of the temperature and humidity.
But you're forgettiung, this is Physiology. We have to keep a constant core temperature reading on anyone being tested on in this room - all for safety. How can you take a core temperature reading? Under your tongue, under your armpit, and yes that's right, rectally! What method do you think the physiolists prefer to use? Right again - rectally! Well, if they think that they are going to shove a 10cm probe up my chuff in the name of education, they have another thing coming.
Fortunately, there are other, more open minded students on my course. They gladly volunteered themselves to be subjects. So they were given their 10cm anal probe, and a tub of vaseline, and sent on their way. Well, out of the four participants we had last week, one thought he might have applied too much vaseline, one went a very odd shade of greeney-white, and a third passed out! Well, we used another two participants to replace the one that had passed out, and the one that had gone a funny colour.
Well, if that is not conclusive, I don't know what is. I am not going to be participating in the lab tests this year...
But I ask you. What on earth do anal probes have to do with Adventure Education. Anyone that tried to even raise the topic of rectal thermometers in an adventure setting with young people would probably be arrested. So I ask again, what in the name of all that is holy, do anal probes have to do with Adventure Education? Perverse physiologists.
Lastly, it dawned on me recently, that of the three modules I am taking this semester, two of them are focussed on teaching us how to be undergraduate students. So, we are taking modules that are teaching us how to learn this year. Honestly, I have yet to find one thing on these two modules that I will ever use again. Does anyone else see anything bizarre about this?
And on that bombshell, I need to get off, and finish my first university assignment. Oh boy...
If you would like to volunteer to be a participant in one of our lab sessions, why not leave a comment saying that you'll being your own vaseline.
If you would like to avoid being a participant in one of our lab sessions at all costs, stay near me...
Quote of the week: 'It's like going from swimming in water, to walking through jelly with concrete boots on. You can do it, but it's bloody hard work!' I said, as I explained how I was finding 4th year university life to my dad.
Well, I may be several days late posting, but as Siobhan demands entertainment, so I'll put up a short post. And I have to say, I have a fantastic subject for this week's post. It's all about very high-brow academic university lab testing.
As you should now know, I have returned to the grand old University of Chichester to complete my final year of Adventure Education. Of the 28 or so student on my course, 1 person is glad to be back. What can I say, I just enjoy their company!
One of my pet hates, has always been biology. And a subject that is even worse than biology (and I wasn't sure that that was possible) is PHYSIOLOGY! Oh good goodness, how I detest physiology. I just can't engage in the subject (which is bad news, as I struggle to do well in subjects that I'm not interested in). One of the things we have to do for our physiology module, is to carry out lab tests. I personally would much rather spend those two hours beating my head to a bloody pulp against a brick wall somewhere. But hey, that's just me.
But this year, for our final year of University, where everything is that much more advanced, we are using an environmental chamber. The first time we walked in there, one of my fellow students uttered 'Anyone ever heard of mustard gas?' And he was right - the place looks like an American gas chamber! Very spooky. So far, this all sounds pretty cool - we get to play with a room where we are in charge of the temperature and humidity.
But you're forgettiung, this is Physiology. We have to keep a constant core temperature reading on anyone being tested on in this room - all for safety. How can you take a core temperature reading? Under your tongue, under your armpit, and yes that's right, rectally! What method do you think the physiolists prefer to use? Right again - rectally! Well, if they think that they are going to shove a 10cm probe up my chuff in the name of education, they have another thing coming.
Fortunately, there are other, more open minded students on my course. They gladly volunteered themselves to be subjects. So they were given their 10cm anal probe, and a tub of vaseline, and sent on their way. Well, out of the four participants we had last week, one thought he might have applied too much vaseline, one went a very odd shade of greeney-white, and a third passed out! Well, we used another two participants to replace the one that had passed out, and the one that had gone a funny colour.
Well, if that is not conclusive, I don't know what is. I am not going to be participating in the lab tests this year...
But I ask you. What on earth do anal probes have to do with Adventure Education. Anyone that tried to even raise the topic of rectal thermometers in an adventure setting with young people would probably be arrested. So I ask again, what in the name of all that is holy, do anal probes have to do with Adventure Education? Perverse physiologists.
Lastly, it dawned on me recently, that of the three modules I am taking this semester, two of them are focussed on teaching us how to be undergraduate students. So, we are taking modules that are teaching us how to learn this year. Honestly, I have yet to find one thing on these two modules that I will ever use again. Does anyone else see anything bizarre about this?
And on that bombshell, I need to get off, and finish my first university assignment. Oh boy...
If you would like to volunteer to be a participant in one of our lab sessions, why not leave a comment saying that you'll being your own vaseline.
If you would like to avoid being a participant in one of our lab sessions at all costs, stay near me...
Quote of the week: 'It's like going from swimming in water, to walking through jelly with concrete boots on. You can do it, but it's bloody hard work!' I said, as I explained how I was finding 4th year university life to my dad.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Yet another late post
Sorry guys, I know that I'm already a day late, but I'm super mad stupid busy. I'll try and post something tomorrow night.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Catcouk Returns (part 3)
Here we go, the last installment of CATCOUK's first ever three part post. And once again, a day or two late. I think we need to just accept that I am busier than a busy thing, busying about a busy place, doing lots of busy work, whilst being a busy buzzy bee being very busy indeed. So, don't hold your breath, posts are like to continue to be late for several weeks/ months (who knows). What can I say, my last year of Uni is turning out to be mega busy.
Picking up where we left off las week, after a busy shut down week, and a trip to Hershey Park, it was time to pack myself away (and my stuff), and get back to the grand old United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. And thanks to British Airways, I returned to Heathrow at 9.30 in the morning, having had two hours of, what could be described by a mad person as, sleep. I HATE FLYING - It's so dull and uncomfortable!
The moment I land, and meet up with mum and dad (a considerably smaller welcoming party than I received in the US), we rushed to the car, so that we could find the nearest 'Little Chef'. I have a tradition, no matter how Little Chef's image gets, that I don't consider anything a holiday unless I have had a Little Chef. I love Little Chef's breakfasts, especially their sausages. Delicious. I'm salavating now, just at the thought.
After that, I returned home to hug my car, and unpack. Well, I hugged my car anyway. I also found some excuse to take Ernie out for a spin. I really missed my car, and I absolutely love the car. And then it was onto busy work. I had been back in the country less than 4 hours, and I was up to my neck in paperwork. But what sort of paperwork, I hear you cry. NTC? Uni? Nope - stuff for the magistrates court.
I never made this public, but back in April, I was pulled over by the Police. I kept this under wraps for 'legal reasons'. But never-the-less, a legal action began. I was driving my best friend's car, after we had spent a few hours refitting his interior. We decided that we should take it out for a spin, and Michael asked if I would like to drive. For various lengthy reasons, I thought that I was covered to drive other vehicles on my insurance.
The plod pulled us over, and said that the vehicle had no tax or insurance. I showed the officer the road tax in the screen, explaining that it was Michael's car. He asked if I was covered to drive, and I gave him my details. He radioed it in, and replied 'Oh dear'. Driving without insurance is a pretty serious crime, and so it went to court. Unbelievably, it took the police and CPS more than 7 weeks to pull their finger out of their arse, and give me a summons (which was made out to the wrong person). By this time I was in the states. After getting an adjournment, I had a date that gave me just one full working day in the country. Very poor form in my opinion.
So I compiled all of the necessary, and went before three magistrates. After pleading guilty, and begging for mercy, the magistrates had this to say. 'It's happenning alot. Insurance companies are removing that level of cover, and leaving many people in your situation. However, you have broken the law'. First off, if you drive other people's vehicles, check your insurance carefully. Are you covered?
I ended up with 6 points (ouch), and a £15 fine (fifteen!). This was the least possible penalty they could legally give me, and they wanted to give me less penalty points! But they weren't able to. After all of this, I have to say that I think the magistrates were brilliant. But I have to say, I think that the damned police officer could and maybe should have shown some leniency. He knew the situation, agreed with me, but then wrote a very one-sided witness statement. Cheers buddy. Before this, I used to like the Police, and support their work. But now I have to wonder whether they really are as target setting, and quota meeting as people claim. What a shame...
Before I finish the Catcouk Returns posts, I have to do some housekeeping, and clean up some film reviews. Over the summer, I saw several films. The first one, before I left the country, I saw the fourth installment of the Indiana Jones series: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I have to say that all of the CGI stuff spoiled it a little, but I really enjoyed the film. There were also a few scenes that were a little bizarre. Obviously there are some scenes that are out-of-this-world, but Indiana Jones has always had that element. Overall, I thought it was a great entertaining film, although some less aware people are probably not going to get the point.
4 Escorts out of 5 - Great film, but maybe won't be understood by everyone.
The other films that I saw was 'The Dark Knight'. I say films, as I saw this film three times! I have never enjoyed a film in the cinema more than this. Heath Ledger as The Joker (and yes I know that everyone raves about him, but he) really was incredible. You also got exceptional value for your money, the film had three endings. You also get Morgan Freeman and Michael Caine. What more could you want?
5 Escorts out of 5 and a Batmobile - a CATCOUK first, scoring higher than 5 Escorts out of 5. Now my favourite film of all time.
Lastly, to the reason why I am late posting. This weekend was our first residential since I got back. And I can easily say that it was the worst residential I have ever run. That's not to say that it was a bad trip, but it was okay. I'm not used to running a trip that's less than pretty good, and I won't really settle for less. I will admit that it is partly my fault, for trying to run the trip at all. Without any other officers going from our unit, I was understaffed. Thank gould for Diana and her husband Saidou, who really made the weekend. Thank goodness for Graham of TS Sturdy also, for providing himself, some cadets, and a bus.
That was the first embarrassing moment. We had two parents who volunteered to drive, yet with my car, and theirs, we were still one seat short. It was so embarrasing, not just for me, but for the unit, and those parents who just can't afford to drive that far. Times are hard. I want to sincerely thank all of those parents who drove, and apologise hugely to everyone else, for putting them in that situation. In the end, one parent had to make his wife walk home, so that he could take the extra cadet. I am furious about that. It's not the parent's fault. I am trying my hardest to provide excellent trips, at a minimal price. Yet our committee refuse to put any money towards a minibus (either in purchasing and running one, or hiring one). They insist that if we hire a bus, it has to come out of the trip costs. That could mean putting the price of a day trip up by £5, and a weekend up by £10. I just can't put up our trip costs by that much.
The second embarrassing moment, was just before we left, the centre manager Ian said that the centre was left in an unnacceptable condition, and that it had been the most destructive weekend in the centre's 15 years. I could accept one or two odd things, but for cadets to have broken so many things is just unreasonable. Then leaving a mess... I don't quite know what has happenned to the mentality of some of those cadets, but jees. Obviously not all of the cadets, the majorty are still brilliant, and had a great weekend, but just those few really have got to me.
In the three years that I have been doing this job, I have never once even thought about resigning from TS Intrepid. But with the unit's current transport policy, and the apparently changing mentality of some of our cadets, I really wondered why I bother, when I have a very busy year at University, and the opportunity to help so many with my national position in the Corps. Thank goodness there are still a majority of fantastic cadets that make my work so worth it, and an up and coming set of senior cadets/ junior officers that are so supportive. The fact that I don't have to worry about our marching band any more, thanks to a fantastic bandmaster, is a relief as well. Even if she is trying to turn our band into a faux show band...
Nevermind, life goes on. I have the Corps' National Weekend Activities Camp to look forward to this weekend, and I hope that it's successful. I really would like to see more cadets want to attend, and given the chance to attend next year.
See you all next time.
If you want to donate £40 000 for us to buy and run a transit minibus for 5 years, why not leave a comment.
If you want to donate £40 000 for us to buy and run a transit minibus for five years, and you actually can, why not leave a comment, and a cheque.
Quote of the Week: 'Is that smell coming from your car?' asked centre manager Ian, as I arrived in Portsmouth, after a 40 mile drive towing TS Intrepid's £2500 lovely, but very heavy box trailer. I can honestly say Ernie has never complained so much before. Especially going up hill, I could really hear that new distributor clicking around. Not to mention the best possible speed of 55mph... I love you Ernie...
Monday, September 08, 2008
Catcouk Returns (part 2)
I know, I know. The post is late, and I left you all on a cliff hanger. But today was the first day of our fourth year of University (woo Adventure Education), and last night I was getting ready (as well as some other NTC stuff).
So where were we? So did I run? Yeah right! I like Jeeps, I do, but they just aren't made for speed or police chases. Like the responsible citizen that I am (even if of another country), I pulled over, switched the engine off, and got some paperwork ready (after several expletives). The officer came up, introduced himself, and asked to see a driver's license, and a registration document for the car. As I handed them over, he asked where we were going.
Having heard several stories, it appears that the Police are leanient on the Boy Scouts. So I replied 'Just heading to XXX back to our Boy Scout Camp'. Play the Boy Scout card. It didn't work - he seemed even less impessed. He checked the registration document, and then moved to my license. After a double take, he asked 'What's this?'. 'It's my driving license officer,' I replied. 'I'm from the UK.'
'Oh, oh, England,' the cop stammered. 'Well, just to remind you that the speed limit is 55 mph. Have a safe evening.' Fantastic! Got away scot-free (http://ask.yahoo.com/20060712.html - just in case you wondered where the term came from). But why did I have to appear before a magistrate? Well, that is the question isn't it.
That day (bearing in mind it was gone midnight), after 8 hours of sleep, I would welcome 54 Scouts (not that I knew that may were coming) to Ockanickon, and form the greatest 'Provisional Troop' ever to slam into Ockanickon. Many weeks before, Terry (awesome Asst. Camp Director) had asked if I wanted to be Scoutmaster of our week 8 provisional troop. Because the camp's numbers were down for our last week of camp, we promoted and invited individual Scouts to attend (known as 'provisional Scouts'). Thus, the 'Provo' troop.
The amazing homemade Troop 1 troop flag - made by me (out of 3 bedsheets and a pillow case from WalMart!), with my beautiful Golfcart in the background. Alright so Kevin laughed continuously when I gave him a ride in it, but it was mine for a week whilst Nick 'the lazy commissioner' went to Puerto Rico.
I had signed up for around 30 Scouts, but no one had told me that we had an open door policy. So, 54 Scouts, and 4 adults later, I was a trained Scoutmaster, of the biggest troop on camp. Although the Scouts came from troops accross New Jersey, Pennsylvannia, Delaware, Virginia and Maryland (5 states), the troop became the most enthusiastic troop ever seen. One of the Scouts remarked to me that he was more enthusiastic about our troop, than his own troop.
We were also pretty sucessful, winning the tetherball 'battle royale' (don't know what Tetherball is? Wikipedia does!), the volleyball tournament, and the water carnival. We missed out on the Golden Skillet, and we would have won the 'Airband Competition', but bad weather called it off. Why did we win? Because we are Troop 1! The troop (numbered on the camp director's instruction) also had it's very own original cheer (which I think may have grated on some people after a while). Someone would shout 'Yeah Troop 1!', and the rest of the troop that was within ear-shot called back 'Yeah Troop 1!' And so this would keep repeating indefinately...
I couldn't possibly talk about troop one, and not talk about some of the adults that joined us. I have to start with Mr. 'Creepy Old Scoutmaster' Eliff - who set the tone for his week on Sunday evening, when he asked 'Is anybody hungry?' as he pulled a ham sandwich from his trench coat, that he had nicked from the Dining Hall. The other memorable adult was Mr. 'Parent helper that is so good he should really be a Scoutmaster' [insert name here]. You may think that I can't remember his name, but he's a lawyer, so he's one of the few people that could bring a law suit against me for using his name. But on top of being a lawyer, he's also a ballon animal entertainer and magician (what a mix of jobs). Apparently, when he appears before one judge, the judge demans he performs a trick before he'll start the trial. Fantastic guy. I even offered him a volunteer job at TS Intrepid NTC if he's ever in England.
I also have to quickly mention the jump rope (skipping rope to you and me) competition held on the Tuesday. The Scouts were happily playing, when Terry (Asst. Camp Director/ Scoutmaster Co-Pilot) got involved. Somehow, Kevin (Staff Member/ Asst. Scoutmaster) an I ended up there too, and so a competition was born. Terry started first, and got an admirable 9 (you have to appreciate that Terry is a big guy). I went next, quite nervous. We all know how clumsy, and unathletic I am. But I struggled on through, and with a rather unique technique, achieved 12. Kevin was last, and sure fire favourite, being fearless, and a multi-award winning swimmer. Kevin got off to a great start, and looked like he had it in the bag. Now, Terry really didn't wan't to loose, so after about 3 jumps, he started shouting 'FAIL' everytime Kevin jumped. Kevin collapsed laughing after just 6 jumps. As one of the Scouts wood burned - Kevin sucks at jump rope!
Terry 'Fish Plates' Robinson - runner up in the jump rope competition.
I was doing really well at meeting Scoutmaster requirements - I was really bad in competitions against Scouts (I went out in the second round of the tetherball), we won the Scoutmaster competition of the water carnival, I had schooled my fellow Scoutmasters at a jump rope competition - yep I was really excelling as a Scoutmaster. And then we got to fill another requirement - the hospital visit! I was heading down to the Leader's archery competition (to win that for Troop 1), when the Scout shouted 'Hi Andy- oh sh*t!' I span round and reprimanded him for bad language, to see him on the floor in pain. So, leaving him with two other leaders (Mr. 'Creepy Old Scoutmaster' Eliff was putting on the most useless splint known to mankind), I ran to the range, and borrowed their suburban. After lifting him up there, Terry drove him and I to hospital. Marvellous.
And so onto staff shutdown week. Conveniently, I missed the first afternoon, so that I could visitmy 'home troop', T29, Dunellen. It was their summer picnic, and it had been organised so that I could attend. I borrowed Terry's car (which he said 'Oh bugger, I've got the truck', and I said 'Brilliant!'), alright, so I mean GMC Sierra truck (pickup version of a Suburban, with 1 5.6ltr engine, and about 1 million horse power, as I described to someone interested in buying it). It was a BIG truck, but really good fun to drive. I discovered, even if you're trying to pull out into traffic, in an automatic, a 5.7 ltr engine will definitely wheel-spin and scare the cyclist in front of you.
While I was discovering that, Tom (incompetent Asst. Camp Director), Joe (my assistant sailing director), and fellow commissioner Nick were discovering that my sailing boat, the beautuful 22ft Catalina, 'The Corpulent Porpoise', really likes me, and doesn't like being sailed without me. They brought the boat back to camp, and the main sail collapsed, the jib (front) sail wouldn't work, and for the first time in my knowledge, the boobs had to get the boat towed in by a motorboat - pillocks. I told you should have waited for me...
And this was turning out to be a week of discoveries. We all have to move out of our regular staff accomodation, and into three sided shelters in camps. I was sharing with Kevin, Nick, Pinky (Kevin's asst.), and James (from aquatics). After last weeks shock discovery that Kevin sucks at jumping rope, we thought there couldn't be anymore we didn't know about him. But we all discovered that Kevin is mortifiably scared of Racoons, and has a real hate for them (we had about 6 babies and a mum outside our 'Ad' at 2am one morning). Nick was fine, until he made a discovery. 'I'm safe up here,' he said from the top bunk. Then Kevin replied, 'What are you talking about! They'll just climb up and scratch your eyes out!' That's right, Nick discovered he was scared of Racoons too, because Racoons can climb. Me, I was too tired to care. Bring it on racoon features!
And that's where this post must leave off. Two days late it may be, but there it ends. And I know, there are still several questions on the lips of the readers - Why was I in front of a magistrate? Why am I now a convicted criminal? Is this going to be CATCOUK's first 3 part post? And, if you're at University with me, and have being playing this giant real world game of Chinese Whispers (Whispers down a lane if you're American) - Why was I convicted and sent to jail in America? Well I'll answer that one now - I didn't!!!
Tune in next time, only the Internet channel...
If you're happy to be back at University, why not leave a message saying 'Andy, you're not the only one.'
If you wish you were anywhere but University, why not leave a message saying 'Andy, you're a sad act - get a life!'
Quote of the week: 'This is going to be a rowdy one isn't it' asked the National Council chairman in dismay, as the Chief of Staff started shouting jokes accross the table...
Tune of the Month: I kissed a girl. Katy Perry.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)