National Council meetings - you just can't beat them!

As a Commander in the Nautical Training Corps, I have to attended the organisation's top level meetings where our National Council meet. When I accepted the job of Adventure Activities Director, I wanted to help people, not just because it would mean I have the same rank as James Bond! Seriously though, I hate meetings, they can be so dull...

Firstly, I had to get there. As you know, my transport options at the moment as somewhat limited - car in the garage, bike that doesn't recharge it's battery. I decided I would take the bike, and pray that the battery lasted long enough to power the lights there and back. Just in case, I'd take Dad's jump-pack so that I could wire-up the battery to get it started at the other end. One problem though, where was the jump-pack?

(a) In the garage where normal people would keep it;
(b) By the front door ready for use;
(c) In the kitchen, next to the microwave, because it's the obvious place for it to be!;
(d) In the back of my car, in the garage, in Bognor Regis, 12 miles away.

If you answered:

(a) You don't know me or my family at all. Normal people?
(b) You're thinking like me (scarily), but you have forgotten about my luck.
(c) You're clearly an avid reader on CATCOUK, and should get a life. However, you're also wrong, you remember the facts, but not the spirit.
(d) You're an evil person, but clearly understand exactly how my life works. Correct.

With that little spanner in the works, I had to go begging, and asked Dad to lend me his. God I love that car - I know why the police used Volvo estates. Very fast, and stick to the road like sh*t to a blanket. With that problem solved, onto the next one - staying awake through the meeting.

The chairman is great, and his reports are fine, and usually interesting to a degree. Our Chief of Staff is very... animated, and usually has a pretty lively report. Then we hit a brick wall, as we have to listen to the regional reports. Goodness me, could they be any more dull? I looked over at fellow Commander Ian, and he looked like he was in serious pain, gripping his face with boredom.

To finish the evening, we had a debate about the new cadet grades and classwork titles. There was a long discussion about the use of the term 'Seaman', and it may have made me giggle a little bit. The guys from London region (same who helped me get my car out of the harbour last month) looked at me, and told me to grow up. I'm sorry, these meetings just leave me drained!

ERNIE UPDATE: He's with W. Jones, but I haven't heard anything yet.

Even I'm not that sad (and that's saying something)

I was rudely awoken this morning at an unearthly hour (alright, it was 8.30, but I haven't got to get up!). Very loud music was playing for the car valet garage behind our house. I mean, VERY LOUD. Honestly, I would imagine half the neighbour-hood heard the mechanic's choice of music this morning.

I know that I sound like an old fart, but first thing in the morning? A little unnecessary I think. But worse still, was what was actually being played. After the music stopped, the show's host began to speak - it was only bloomin' Terry Wogan. Who in their right mind plays BBC Radio 2 at full volume, like a bad boy racer? Soon after Terry's dulcit tones started to waft accross the county, there was some shouting, and an abrupt stop to the radio. That's no way to treat a knight of the realm!

Anyways, as I said, even I'm not sad enough to listen to Radio 2 (unless it's the only thing my car radio will pick up), and I certainly would blast it out over the countryside. Having said that though, I did once drive through Arundel playing Classic FM at full volume - it just seemed appropriate...

ERNIE UPDATE: Make sure you're sitting down - I got the engine started! It came to be in a dream oddly, but I knew the engine would start if it was warm. I also knew the engine would be warm if I ciould get it started. Neither points very helpful. Putting my camping Trangia stove under the engine would probably do the trick, but I feared that the mixture of gas stove, naked flame, and a petrol engine would only end in a messy disaster.

So instead, I pushed the car around, and put the nose under the garage. Then I fished out my cheap Halogen site lamps (the kind that builders have, only mine were bought in Lidl), and focussed them on the engine. After two hours later at Gas Mark 4, the engine started straigh on the key! I was opptimisitc, but even I was amazed how well that worked. Mum thought it would never work, but once again, Ernie prooved her wrong. In Ernie we trust...

PS - It's all up to the genious of the mechanics at W. Jones of Bognor now. Keep praying that it's a cheap simple fix, or it's not going to happen...

I've been a bad monkey

It wasn't all my fault, but I admit to being in a somewhat hilarious mood yesterday evening. I may have contributed to the most farcical regional meeting I have ever attended. It took twenty minutes for Stuart (the usual primary cause of farce) to give his unit report. This was mainly caused by us laughing over me reporting that someone we know may have developed narcolepsy (where the person falls asleep at random). I know that we are both going to hell for it, and it is far less funny for those afflicated with this problem. Sorry nacoleptic people.

After that, the evening didn't get much better. I received a text from the bandmaster saying that no-one had left her a key, so she, and the rest of the band were all locked out. My CO and I dodn't find that very funny (all I could think was 'Oh bu*ger'), but everyone else did. Sorry Tyler.

The meeting was finally destroyed when I got the third and final CO, and my good friend, Graham in creases when I commented on the raffle ticket design for Founder's Day. He had written some spoof prizes, but I looked at the top prize and was just reminded of that old gameshow, Bullseye (you know, Jim Bowen, Darts, '...and Bulley's special prize', and all that). I muttered to Graham in a strong northern accent (sorry if you don't get the reference) 'Oh, it's anoother speed boot'. Sorry Graham, and everyone else at the meeting.

To be honest, it's not my fault that I'm in a good mood for a change. Put it down to some text messages that I have been receiving lately, many of them to do with NTC. Apparently my paperwork system is useful (although that's not nearly half the reason for my good mood).

ERNIE UPDATE: After telling the garage yesterday to expect him, he still hasn't started. He came pretty close to day, and at one point I thought I had him. But no, no ignition. I have his engine wrapped in hession sacks to try and warm it up, in the hopes of success tomorrow. I'm not going to hold my breath though - the battery's getting pretty flat now...

Oh, the savage wheels of fate...

As you will all know by this point, Ernie is far from well (more news on that in a mo), and now my bike is playing up. I realised that my bike wasn't starting, although I still had lights. I was having to jump start the bike all the time. It could have been two problems: for about £30, a daed battery; for over £100 the charging system was knackered. Well, on my way to NTC on Friday, I found out. Was it the cheap battery problem. Of course not, otherwise the engine running would have kept the lights on, instead of them dying two roundabouts after leaving my house.

Further to this run of bad luck, I was supposed to be meeting someone after NTC. Although it was much worse for her I'm sure, it was my luck that caused it no doubt. She was involved in a car crash, and had spent most the day in A&E with whiplash. Splendid. We arranged to meet the following night, but her friends (who she was babysitting for) were two hours late back, sinking that plan (no doubt they had also had some kind of crash, or flat tyre or something unlucky). What did I do to deserve all of this bad luck to come to my friends and I? Answers on a postcard please...

ERNIE UPDATE: After several hours under the bonnet, I can confirm that I have restored main power, and all electrical systems are go! Don't get your hopes though, because there is still an underlying ignition problem, and I haven't been able to start him in two days! Even with a bump start.

I told the garage to expect casualties, and explained the problem. I've checked all that Mr. Haynes Manual (I think he's Spanish) and I can think of, but no joy. W. Jones (the Gods of garages) asked when they could see Ernie, and I replied 'Yes, when I can get hims started, and over to you!'. So keep praying everyone, we need it now more than ever!

Perhaps the spark has gone from our relationship... (sorry, an engineering pun to finish on there)

Try and explain this!

Today has been yet another bad day, in what is turning out to be a bad week. Yesterday, Ernie's electrical system completely failed. Nothing was working. Then I had to work in the evening, worrying about Ernie. Then, to finish it all off, last night, I nearly upset someone I care about. Today, in the p*ssing rain, I had to go to the funeral of one of my fellow Lions members. I hate funerals in the rain. I especially hate it when I have to attend the funeral looking bedragled like a drowned rat, because I had to go on the bike. Still could be worse. At least Eric (my bike) is still running...

Woops spoke to soon. On the way home, I had to fill Eric up with petrol, and it appears that my battery has completely died. So, despite owning two vehicles, I don't actually own one that works!

But there is light at the end of the tunnel. As you know, Ernie's electrical systems were completely dead - nothing worked. But I sat in him today, just hoping and praying, everything was working! How is that possible? I haven't done anything to him, he has just started to repair himself! Obviously things are still not right. The ignition system won't work (other than to make an ugly clicking noise), and I'm pretty sure the rev counter shouldn't read 8000 when the main beam lights are switched on.

I have no idea what has happenned, but at least there is some sign of life! Thank you to those of you who have been praying for him. Also, thanks to Bill Vincent, who has said that Ernie's heart may be broken, as he might have fallen in love with 'beautiful Renault', or a 'silky Peugeot'. I needed a laugh, thanks Bill.

You heard it here first

It has been announced that a CATCOUK project has been delayed due to some technical errors. After three years, Ernie the Escort has finally refused to start. It is thought that a recent trip to Grenoble may have something to do with the electrical failure.

Production was suspended today on the completion of CATCOUK's new video, 'Wish You Were Here (instead of me)'. After returning from a 1400 mile round trip to Grenoble, one of the main stars, Ernie the Escort developed some ignition difficulties. The 22 year old Ford GL Estate has been owned by Mr Andy Clarke for just over three years, and has never let him down yet.

Unconfirmed reports are saying that the little estate car may finally have died completely. Eye-witnesses say that a large spark was seen arking across the engine bay near the battery, during an attempt to start the motor. Since that incident, nothing has been seen from the car, and no signs of any of the electrics working have been observed. Sources close to Mr. Clarke are calling this a complete failure of the primary and secondary electrical systems, and some are saying that this is the darkest day in CATCOUK history.

The issue has been further complicated, by the level of breakdown cover held by Mr Clarke not covering home starts and recovery. Apparently, Mr. Clarke has been heard to say that this problem is only solveable by the car's long-term garage W. Jones of Bognor, a full 12 miles away. We have attempted to get a quote from Mr. Clarke, and all we have received back is 'Oh Cock.'

In an official statement from CATCOUK, readers have been asked to pray to whatever God or higher being they believe in (yes Todd Warner, Nick Draper, and Chuck Norris do count), and just hope that this situation can be overcome.

Just another thing to add to Ernie's abilities

I love my 1986 Ford Escort 1.4 GL Estate in Champagne Gold, but Ernie the Escort surpassed even my expectations this week. As you may know, I have been away for a week, in the French Alpes. This was not through choice, but for research with University. I did find out that I hate skiing though...

Something else I hate, almost as much as skiing, is flying. I'm not scared of it, it just bores me. So instead of paying £100 for the 2 hour flight to Grenoble, I paid alot more to drive there! Honestly, I knew that Ernie would get there and back, but I hadn't counted on just how easily he'd do it. Over 1400 miles of driving, and not so much as a splutter. Okay, after a week of being parked at Grenoble-Isere airport he didn't start straight away, but he did start without assistance. and on the way home, we ripped through France to catch an earlier ferry, at speeds of between 80 and 100 (for legal reasons, those speeds are in kph)! I would never have though it possible for Ernie to keep those sorts of speeds up for 7 hours straight.

As if that didn't beat it all, I also found out that the other car that drove out there wouldn't start to get off of the ferry. When you consider that the other car is 15 years newer than Ernie, that's quite an achievement. Furthermore, driving a route that should take 7h 33m in a little over 7 hours is pretty impressive.

Lastly, in a final rasp to all of those who doubted my car's abilities, after 11.5 hours of driving yesterday, I arrived home at 1.30am, and I didn't have any aches or pains, and I felt that I could have driven another 700 miles (as I'm sure Ernie would have done - he just loves eating up the miles!). I defy anyone to find a better, more reliable, more able car for £300!

To date, Ernie has been an off-road continental cruising ambulance taxi sports cruiser. That's quite a job description!

I told you, you can always rely on Ernie...

I was overjoyed yesterday, when I had to pick my beloved 1986 Ford Escort up from the garage. W. Jones of Bognor, who I stand by as being the best garage in the world, serviced my car, made some other adaptions that I had requested, and all fof just over £100. I haveb't had a garage service bill that's been under £200 for gould knows how long. And that includes servicing costs for the bike as well!

In a time when I am spending a ridiculous amount of money on skiing trip that I don't want to go on, my car brings it home, with a cheap garage bill. Well, I'm sure the garage had something to do with it as well. Thanks guys.

As I left, Dave, the regular guy had gone home, but I asked one of his mechanics: 'What do you think? Will it make it to Grenoble?'

The man looked back at me, thought about the question, and then replied 'Well, it might do...' That's a high praise. Grenoble here we come!

Longing for Lanzarote

As I drove my motorbike through Bognor this morning (through the cold and sleet), I realised that it was two years ago that our degree group had all met up at Gatwick airport to go on a two week trip to Lanzarote. If you've been a regular reader that long (not that I'm sure that there are any left), yes, it really has been two years since I was taken prisoner by the Lanzarote police, and subsequently escaped with the aide of my friend Michael, and went into hiding suing a gyrocopter.

Seriously though, it was the best vacation (and two weeks) that I have ever had. It annoys me slightly that I know that I will never have such a great holiday again (how can I - two weeks with 30 of the greatest people I have ever known, in a perfect paradise of fun?). But it annoys me even more that I have got to go to the Alpes to face certain injury and peril, and sore knees, and back in just four days! Oh, I wish we were going to Lanzarote instead. Although having said that, I wish we were going anywhere instead (except another ski resort, that would kind of make my point redundant...).

Incidentally, I was riding through Bognor to drop Ernie's car keys off at the garage (God bless W. Jones) so thay he could be serviced in preparation for the 1500 mile throp that awaits...

Happy New Year

Happy New Year everyone. How did you all spend New Year's Eve? Down the pub? 'Round friends houses? At great big parties? I wasted my day learning to ski, and then driving home from Milton Keynes. I've learnt several things.

1. There are not many cars anywhere near as old as Ernie that travel on motorways (the oldest I saw was a 1993 L reg, 7 years newer than my car)

2. I hate skiing.

3. Driving on motorways is the most boring way to spend New Year's Eve.

4. I hate skiing.

5. I am going to be injured in the Alpes when I have to ski for a week.

6. I hate skiing.

7. I can't ski very well, and next week is going to be a disaster.

8. I hate skiing.

9. I really don't like skiing, and I would much rather go to Lanzartote again than the Alpes.

That just about covers the basics. Add to all of those the fact that I don't like skiing, and I think you can see why I might be worried about going to the Alpes for a week to carry out research with Uni. Most people would worry about whether my 22 year old Escort is going to make it accross the continent, but I know that is the one certainty on this trip. Well, that, and the fact I'm going to end up in Hospital.

PS - There are not many people who will give you European Breakdown cover on a car older than 15 years old. Thank goodness for the RAC and the AA!

Multi-purpose vehicle

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...

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...

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.

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...

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...).

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!

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...

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!

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.

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...