Inspiration at the beach…

24 10 2014

I went to a Reef gig a few months back.

(Yes they did sing place your hands.)

It was in a pub, in a beach, in Cornwall.

Happy days.

While I was taking everything in, I noticed a quote on the wall.

“At the beach life is different.

Time doesn’t move from hour to hour but mood to moment.

We live by the tides and follow the sun.”

It just struck a chord.

Ah well, back to work in the concrete jungle.





The bookmark saga’s conclusion…

23 10 2014

I know you are desperate to know the result.

Unfortunately the book has not been handed in.

My treasured bookmark has gone forever.

And I’ll have to buy the book again to find out what a Fallen Dragon is.

I can only assume that someone has taken the bookmark, beginning to assume my identity piece by piece.

One day someone will turn up at my front door claiming to be me and will know more about me than me.

And if I forget more personal items I run the risk of Wifey accepting this new person and kicking me out.

Now, where did I leave my wallet?





People are strange…

22 10 2014

As with most commuters that use the train in to London, I follow a boring pattern.

I arrive at the train station at the same time every morning.

I walk to the same spot on the same platform every morning.

I stand next to the same people every morning.

*yawn*

Everyone exchanges a little smile of recognition (or just stare straight ahead like a blinkered horse), but that’s about it.

You wrap yourself up in your own little protective bubble and sit in silence.

Chances are you’ll never know the people around you.

It’s a great shame.

But I’m not one for rocking the boat so I bury my head in a book and stick to the pattern.

Unless of course there’s a glitch in the Matrix and destiny says otherwise.

St Albans hosted its annual Beer Festival the other weekend.

A group of us went along to savour the delights of UK beers and revel in our mastery of the art as only Englishmen can.

As I was knocking back an ale from Warton, a neighbouring village to where my parents live, when something grabbed my attention.

I caught a fleeting glimpse of someone I recognised whizzing through the crowd in CAMRA type livery (shorts, polo shirt, sandals etc.).

It was Mr. X, a commuter I sit opposite to most mornings.

So I was confronted with a choice – ignore the fact I saw him and therefore not have that awkward conversation each morning when both parties just want to read the paper, or go over and introduce myself.

Being the nice human that I am, I of course chose the latter.

Mr X is now called Mark.

After an initial exchange of pleasantries on the first morning of travel post-beer festival, we will now just say “Morning,” or moan and joke about the tardiness of the trains.

I’m glad I made that initial introduction.

If we’re travelling together one evening after sampling more delights of the alcoholic variety, I might be able to rely on him to wake me up at my stop.

So maybe people aren’t so strange after all.

Perhaps it’s just me.

And I’m sure Wifey would agree with that.





The bookmark saga…

13 10 2014

I was back over in Switzerland last week.

You may remember my exploits from my last trip.

Thankfully, this time around was a lot more straightforward and less embarrassing.

After a full day of meetings, I found myself back at the airport waiting for an 8.30pm flight.

Unfortunately due to bad weather my flight was delayed by 90 minutes.

I had just started a new book so although not ideal, it was a good excuse to carry on reading without adding to the chorus of “TUTS” from all around me.

When we eventually boarded and took off, I was knackered.

I put the book into the netted compartment in the seat in front of me and zoned out with some Swiss chocolate.

The flight was uneventful, the landing was smooth and next thing I knew I was in a cab homeward bound.

Then I remembered my book.

Still in the netted compartment.

Arse.

But what annoyed me more about my own forgetfulness was that it contained a bookmark.

Not just any old bookmark, but a gift from Wifey on our third (leather) anniversary.

Double arse.

So now begins a new journey.

Finding the book and more importantly the bookmark.

The Swiss Airlines Facebook was a bad start.

The number they gave me sent me to baggage tracking.

Baggage tracking sent me to left luggage.

Left luggage passed me on to someone who I think just picked up the phone by mistake.

Dead end.

Some friends who replied to my comment on the Swiss Airlines page have also been guided to lost and found.

Even though they haven’t lost anything.

So it’s not looking good so far.

However, I’ve just received an email that might offer a glimmer of hope saying they will keep an eye out.

Handy.

I’ll write an update if I find anything else out, keep your fingers crossed.





Big bang theory…

6 10 2014

As with a lot of good theories, they tend to remain only that.

Theories.

Until someone comes along and completely disproves it otherwise.

Such confutation could be down to science, time passing by or your wife.

So it was that I developed a theory over the weekend.

I was doing some DIY upstairs, Wifey was doing wifey things and Joshie was playing with his cars.

All of a sudden I heard a mighty BANG.

I waited.

Nothing.

No shouts, screams or tears so I carried on with the DIY.

Like Newton and his apple, this led me to develop my Big Bang Theory.

When you have a toddler around, you often hear big bangs.

It’s normally proceeded with screams, crying, shouting etc.

When there’s silence you can assume that everything is fine and play has resumed.

I was quite proud of myself.

Nice one Daddy.

That is, until I mused upon my theory with Wifey.

With one very precise theory seeking missile, she shot it down.

“That’s a stupid theory – what happens if he’s knocked himself out or worse?”

Not so proud Daddy.

Not so nice Daddy.

I’ll stick to DIY in future.

But apparently that’s no good either.





Been dazed and confused…

3 10 2014

It’s that time of the year sports fans!

The NFL is back (click here for a little nostalgia) and kicked off with the Oakland Raiders taking on the Miami Dolphins last weekend.

The powers that be closed off Regent Street to traffic on the Saturday so that all the fans and unsuspecting shoppers could immerse themselves in all things American Football before gameday.

There was a stage with live music, cheerleaders, players, managers, commentators – you get the idea.

Dotted all up the street were various activities such as giveaways, team information, face painting and games.

My brother-in-law and I have a competition each year with these games.

There’s a throw the ball through the hole game.

A kick the ball through the hole game.

A snap the ball through the hole game.

etc.

But this year there was a kick the ball as hard as you can game.

Excellent.

The prize for the ‘longest kick’ was VIP tickets to the game and the score reset each hour.

So we stepped up and had a go.

The game was contained within a 2m cube – rigid metal frame with netting to keep the ball inside.

A girl would put the ball on a small cone, you’d line up and then blast it as hard as you could with three attempts.

Simple.

Nothing could go wrong.

That is, until I stepped up.

The first two attempts were good but unfortunately the sensor did not pick up the speed (too quick obviously).

I wound up like a tightly coiled spring for my last shot at glory.

Even if I do say so myself, I put a lot of power through the ball.

The ball took off with the ferocity of space shuttle taking off.

It struck the metal frame, obviously didn’t get over the ball enough, and rebounded straight back towards the crowd.

Fortunately it didn’t reach the crowd.

Unfortunately the ball girl’s face stopped it from reaching the crowd.

She wobbled about like the Led Zeppelin tune, said she was fine and tried to carry on.

Reminded me of this.

Racked with guilt I tried to apologise but she had no idea where she was or what was going on.

I met up with her at Wembley Stadium on gameday as the event was being run there too.

She eased my guilt when she said that it was obviously not my fault and was just an accident.

Her make-up was a little heavier across the nose and eyes.

Oops.

Aside from that, it was a great weekend!

Didn’t have my camera with me this year, so here’s some random camera phone shots.

We were sober, honest.