Xmas day: Went round to family's for dinner, got angry at the idiocy of opinion on display. Happens every year. This year it was about how the rich shouldn't pay more tax than the poor, and that civil servants apparently retire on big pensions.
Boxing day: popped up to EK to try and get a couple of things from the shops. Avoided the car-park thanks to the resident's permit, but still found myself unable to last more than half an hour without the urge to go on a killing spree boiling over. oth game stores had queues to get in, HMV had a queue for the till that stretched round two sides of the store, and the place was just mobbed. And HMV and waterstones were both out of stock of what I wanted. Zavvi had the Sopranos box set on DVD, but since they're bust and not offering refunds, I avoided, just on the off-chance it was knacked in some way. ordered it online instead.
The 27th: Went to the pub to watch the Old Firm game. Quality of football on display was woeful, but we beat the huns, so I'm really not caring. 7 points clear at new year, I'll take that!
The 28th: Didn't really do much, bought a couple of books in town, then sat down to watch the NFL. Dolphins in the playoffs for the first time since 2001! Drank more whisky than I realised while watching the game, consequently felt a touch fragile the next day.
That more or less brings us up to the present. New year to come, and then I'm back into work on the 2nd. Fucking taxpayers, I hate them.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Ruprecht
That's midnight now, so I can safely wish everyone a Merry Christmas. Or Hogswatch, or whatever you celebrate.
Whatever you do, try and not overdo it, and remember the true meaning of the holiday period - commemorating the resurrection of Santa Claus three days after he was crucified.
Whatever you do, try and not overdo it, and remember the true meaning of the holiday period - commemorating the resurrection of Santa Claus three days after he was crucified.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Wheeee!
...and that's me finished work until the 2nd of January.
can you believe people were actually still calling their tax office five minutes before closing on Christmas Eve?!?!?
can you believe people were actually still calling their tax office five minutes before closing on Christmas Eve?!?!?
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Parents
And just when you thought you knew it all, something totally unexpected and yet totally amazing comes out of the blue.
My mum rocks.
[/schmaltz]
My mum rocks.
[/schmaltz]
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Old man
I appear to now be 29 years old.
I also appear to be hungover. This may have been caused by people buying me beer to celebrate the fact I was 29 years old.
I also appear to be hungover. This may have been caused by people buying me beer to celebrate the fact I was 29 years old.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Saturday, December 06, 2008
The Ballad of the Uruk-Hai
In keeping with the theme of meaning to write about stuff but never actually getting round to it, it's now Saturday night and I'm just getting to type up about the Korpiklaani gig I was at on Tuesday.
Had driven in at great velocity after work, and had made it there for about half 7 or so. Got in to the venue and could hear a high-pitched singing from upstairs. I wasn't sure whether it was a female, or a guy doing falsetto. Which doesn't really bode well for the band's identity.
Turns out that the band were Kivimetsän Druidi, and the singer was female. She was also rubbish (as were the rest of the band), indeed the only moment of note was when she managed to knock over her own mic stand.
Second on were Falchion, who played no-nonsense, good, fast technical metal. Turns out that their vocalist and lead guitarist is the accordion player for Korpiklaani, and the 2 bands also share a drummer. But they were very good, I and I found their songs to be most enjoyable.
Main support was Battlelore, and they came onstage in full make up, and the singer was brandishing a sword. A fucking sword! All of their songs are about Middle Earth, but I couldn't make out the lyrics, so I'll just assume that they told tales from the orcs side, as the tone seemed too dark for hobbity nonsense.
And then we come to Korpiklaani. Stupidly over-the-top stage presence from all of them, and the singer's mic stand was a giant set of antlers. Started fast, got faster, they're a really good, upbeat, party band. Which makes me glad to have seen them in a venue that only holds a couple of hundred people.
Had driven in at great velocity after work, and had made it there for about half 7 or so. Got in to the venue and could hear a high-pitched singing from upstairs. I wasn't sure whether it was a female, or a guy doing falsetto. Which doesn't really bode well for the band's identity.
Turns out that the band were Kivimetsän Druidi, and the singer was female. She was also rubbish (as were the rest of the band), indeed the only moment of note was when she managed to knock over her own mic stand.
Second on were Falchion, who played no-nonsense, good, fast technical metal. Turns out that their vocalist and lead guitarist is the accordion player for Korpiklaani, and the 2 bands also share a drummer. But they were very good, I and I found their songs to be most enjoyable.
Main support was Battlelore, and they came onstage in full make up, and the singer was brandishing a sword. A fucking sword! All of their songs are about Middle Earth, but I couldn't make out the lyrics, so I'll just assume that they told tales from the orcs side, as the tone seemed too dark for hobbity nonsense.
And then we come to Korpiklaani. Stupidly over-the-top stage presence from all of them, and the singer's mic stand was a giant set of antlers. Started fast, got faster, they're a really good, upbeat, party band. Which makes me glad to have seen them in a venue that only holds a couple of hundred people.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
On the pool
So, last Friday. Was supposed to be in work, working away (as one might be expected to do in work - go figure). However, I'd been informed earlier on in the week that there was a pool tournament for HMRC employees, and that special leave was available for it.
Special leave, for the uninitiated, is basically a paid day off that doesn't count towards your quota of annual leave. It's often granted in cases where there's been a bereavement, or a seriously ill family member. Or in this case, to play pool and get drunk.
Anyway, whole bunch of us saw the times, realised it was a paid day off, and promptly applied. I got approved (as did half the floor for that day) although a few folk did get knocked back because they weren't quick enough.
Thus it came to pass that last Friday consisted of me walking into work, saying hi, and vanishing again. My last day on the team, little more than a fleeting appearance. Oh well.
Got to the pool hall in Battlefield at about half 11 for a 12 noon start, so had a cheeky wee pint, and immediately wished I hadn't. Not because of the potential to be smashed before I'd even played a game, but because the lines clearly hadn't been cleaned. Urgh.
Tournament started just after 12, and there was a preliminary round to be had to narrow the field down to 64 for the first round. I was straight into the first round through that ancient mechanism that we call 'the luck of the draw'. So I waited. And waited. And waited. Finally got called onto the table (there were 8, but progress was still hellishly slow) at about 3pm.
By 3.15pm, my progress in the tournament was over. Lost by two frames to one, having won the first by virtue of a reverse granny (my opponent potted from the break, sunk another couple of balls, and then fucked up and potted the black too early). So I was one frame up without having so much as hit a ball. The other two frames were pretty comfortable defeats for me, although a minor rules disagreement was chalked off as ignorance, when I suspect the real answer was "Two shots carry? Like fuck they do. Cheating cunt"
My sporting escapades once again cruelly halted before their peak, I returned to the bar, and started on the Guinness. Beat one of the other guys 5-0 on the American pool tables in an hour, and got progressively more drunk. Time is a bit hazy as to when I left, but I think it was about 6pm. Already a touch melted, I headed into town, went to Rufus', drank more, and almost got knocked back from the Classic Grand.
Only lasted an hour or so in there before I realised myself that I was way too drunk, and got the bus home. Was in bed by 2am, but still felt like death for pretty much all of Saturday. But that would be to forget the key element, which is that I got paid to take the day off work and play pool.
Special leave, for the uninitiated, is basically a paid day off that doesn't count towards your quota of annual leave. It's often granted in cases where there's been a bereavement, or a seriously ill family member. Or in this case, to play pool and get drunk.
Anyway, whole bunch of us saw the times, realised it was a paid day off, and promptly applied. I got approved (as did half the floor for that day) although a few folk did get knocked back because they weren't quick enough.
Thus it came to pass that last Friday consisted of me walking into work, saying hi, and vanishing again. My last day on the team, little more than a fleeting appearance. Oh well.
Got to the pool hall in Battlefield at about half 11 for a 12 noon start, so had a cheeky wee pint, and immediately wished I hadn't. Not because of the potential to be smashed before I'd even played a game, but because the lines clearly hadn't been cleaned. Urgh.
Tournament started just after 12, and there was a preliminary round to be had to narrow the field down to 64 for the first round. I was straight into the first round through that ancient mechanism that we call 'the luck of the draw'. So I waited. And waited. And waited. Finally got called onto the table (there were 8, but progress was still hellishly slow) at about 3pm.
By 3.15pm, my progress in the tournament was over. Lost by two frames to one, having won the first by virtue of a reverse granny (my opponent potted from the break, sunk another couple of balls, and then fucked up and potted the black too early). So I was one frame up without having so much as hit a ball. The other two frames were pretty comfortable defeats for me, although a minor rules disagreement was chalked off as ignorance, when I suspect the real answer was "Two shots carry? Like fuck they do. Cheating cunt"
My sporting escapades once again cruelly halted before their peak, I returned to the bar, and started on the Guinness. Beat one of the other guys 5-0 on the American pool tables in an hour, and got progressively more drunk. Time is a bit hazy as to when I left, but I think it was about 6pm. Already a touch melted, I headed into town, went to Rufus', drank more, and almost got knocked back from the Classic Grand.
Only lasted an hour or so in there before I realised myself that I was way too drunk, and got the bus home. Was in bed by 2am, but still felt like death for pretty much all of Saturday. But that would be to forget the key element, which is that I got paid to take the day off work and play pool.
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