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Posts archive for: April, 2007
  • Yet another fuckit switch weekend

    Here are a few things I didn't do this weekend:

    • Go to a 30th birthday party.
    • Go to a 37th birthday party.
    • Appreciate the benefits of being a car owner.
    • Discover that the people who operate our public transport system have any clue whatsoever about the services they run. Either that, or they're just plain evil.
    • Get threatened, intimidated or knifed in a dodgy pub, despite the horror stories I was told beforehand. Seriously, mate, if you didn't want me to go, you could have just said so...
    • Display willpower. For a change.
    • Quit smoking.
    • Believe any legends involving Enid Blyton, the largest whale in the world, or liver birds.
    • Wash. Much.
    • Plan. Anything.

    And here are a few things I did do:

    • Acted on impulse. On more than one occasion.
    • Spent over three hours on a train journey that transported me all around the houses and via Timbuckfuckingtoo in order to get me approximately 30 miles from where I started. Yes, I effectively travelled less than 10 miles an hour. Yes, I might as well have walked.
    • Was there for a friend.
    • Drank peach schnapps with drug dealers. 
    • Took a shoeless stroll on a beautiful beach on a beautiful morning. And got muddy feet. Which I still haven't washed.
    • Discovered that water doesn't always look like water, but can come cunningly disguised in the miraculously-still-solid form of vegetables, whilst consuming the worst, most tasteless pub lunch in the world.
    • Ate far too much food at a gosh-darn gorgeous BBQ dinner.
    • Drank far too much wine.
    • Smoked far too many cigarettes.
    • Postponed thinking, worrying, sorting out confusion and other such sensible activities.
    • Had a good time.
  • Today I shall mostly be...

    Nursing a headache.

    Practising the art of looking busy whilst trying to let my brain sleep.

    Wishing the hours away until bedtime.

    Mentally recoiling in horror from the amount of work and general stuff that I have to do this week.

    Bewailing my consistent crapness.

    Hoping that no-one in the office spots my muddy feet.

  • My car's exhausted

    Here are a few words that you don't really want to hear whilst slightly hungover at 9am on the Saturday which follows the Friday on which you received your first pay packet since dropping to part-time hours at work.

    "It's the front part of your exhaust that's corroded. And it's too far gone to weld it. And it's damaged that other part (there was a name for it, but I'm buggered if I can remember it) too. And, unfortunately, that's the most expensive part of the exhaust."

    Why is it that it's always "too far gone" to fix?

    And why is it that you never, ever hear a mechanic say: "Hey, good news! That's the least expensive part of the car to fix! Give me five minutes and a fiver and you can be on your way."

    Arse.

  • I'm forever bathed in bubbles - if I had my way

    Eleven Didsbury Park. A beautiful little boutique hotel in a graceful Victorian town house wrapped with rosy strands of ivy.

    Plush, yet unfussy interior design conceived by someone with a marvellous feel for textures, dominated by smooth cream, warm beige, sultry brown and rich splashes of aubergine.

    Impeccable service guided by possibly the poshest-sounding friendly concierge in the North West.

    One of those pretty little landscaped gardens which you could easily imagine being the backdrop for a stylish, intimate wedding.

    A bunch of knobhead London bankers doing their best to ruin the tranquil atmosphere, before they thankfully pissed off out to ruin someone else's dinner.

    Creamy porcini and sweet potato fettucine accompanied by a rich, mellow Chardonnay.

    And the bath. Oh yes.

    A long, deep, free-standing, roll-top tub of pure Joan Collins-esque bubbly bliss, from which you could choose the perfect relaxing CD track/ radio station to bathe to or watch Neighbours.

    And Eggs Benedict for brekkie.

    When I win the lottery tomorrow, if I break the habit of a lifetime and actually buy a ticket, I'm buying the place and moving in.

  • Hugh's bean a naughty boy, then?

    How rude.

    I mean, he could have given him some toast as well...

    http://www.guardian.co.uk/crime/article/0,,2066064,00.html?gusrc=rss&feed=1

  • My version of poet's corner

    I hereby dedicate this poem to those individuals out there who know and share my pain...

    Burnt out relationship

    The saying goes that three's a crowd,
    And yes, sometimes that’s right.
    But I’ll confess, for many years
    Whilst I've been out at night,
    I may have been indulging
    In some rather naughty fun
    With two young gentlemen at once,
    Instead of just the one.

    It's not that I'm unfaithful,
    Or a liar, or a cheat,
    They know the score - in fact, I find
    When one of them I meet
    It's often he who will suggest
    The other comes along.
    I guess this threesome love affair
    Has just gone on too long.

    But, as another saying goes,
    All things come to an end.
    And now it seems the fates conspire
    To cause a brand new trend
    To impact on our threesome
    And the life that we have had.
    Yet, while I know it's right, and that
    Our way of life was bad,

    I cannot help but feel a pang,
    A sense of real regret
    Because our current way of life
    We'll soon have to forget.
    I must confess I'm not convinced
    That this will be the end.
    We've been so close so long -
    How could I simply ditch a friend?

    Yet, now I'm growing older,
    There's a fact I have to face:
    My mind and body can no longer
    Really hack the pace.
    I used to wake up feeling fine
    And free of sin and shame.
    These days, I just feel guilty
    And plain knackered, and in pain.

    So, while I cannot give up both
    My loves at the same time,
    To keep them both, society says,
    Would simply be a crime.
    So, as of this July the 1st,
    Upon the social scene
    I'm sticking with you, Al Kohol,
    So farewell, Nick O'Teen.

  • Musical interlude

    Don't you dare disturb me
    While I'm balancing my past
    Cos you can't help or hurt me
    Like it already has.
    I may not seem quite right
    But I'm not fucked, not quite.

  • And through it allll, she offers me protection (twice)

    Good job I'm not likely to sleep with a student again...

    Many students are "completely clueless" about condoms and birth control, according to a poll released yesterday.

    More than one in 10 cannot put a condom on properly and 16% believe two condoms are safer than one. More than a third of students believe condoms have holes in them big enough for HIV to get through.

    The Guardian, yesterday

  • Task for the day

    When writing a business plan, it is important that you:

    Get some guidelines from your local Business Link, or other helpful provider.
    Have your personal and professional objectives clearly in mind.
    Carry out extensive market research into your specialist areas.
    Have an up-to-date CV.
    Find a quiet environment in which to focus your concentration.
    Are much more organised than me.
    Don't blog.
    Find a sodding pen that works.

  • Puppy love

    Or, should that be, "doggy-style"?

    What did happen to Clement Eloy or his leg, one wonders, to make him create one of these?

  • Old posts for new friends

    Is there any way of allowing new friends to see old posts that are marked as 'friends only' without having to go back through each post and, er, tick their boxes?

  • Love and taxes

    On today's Politics Show.

    "We want to change the tax system to benefit people who are married. Marriage is a fine institution. The government needs to do their bit to encourage people to get and stay married."

    What business is it of politicians to decide whether or not we should be married? And to set out to penalise those who aren't?

    And how, exactly, is it going to encourage people to stay married?

    "Hey, we're having marital problems. Let's split up."

    "But what about the tax system, darling? Let's stay together for financial reasons."

    "Ok, darling. And, guess what? All our marital problems have now miraculaously disappeared! And all because of the tax system. Praise the Tories!"

    Stay out of my bed, Mr Cameron...

  • Another 5am finish

    But no dodgy groupie action this time.

    Just copious amounts of booze and laughter to send my good friend off on his merry way dahn souf.

    And "Bigands". Dive bar extraordinaire, where the music is lively, the beer is fast a-flowing and the staff are so laid back that their only reaction to your mate vomiting a nice pile of pink-tinged lumpy stuff all over their floor is to grin, shrug and pass a pile of newspaper to dump on top of it.

    "Oh, what a night."

    I'm thinking that I'm really going to miss him.

    I'm also thinking that I've been craving a curry for about 14 hours now, and I'm really going to have to do something about that soon...

  • I am Cinderella's pumpkin

    Head like a Glasgow fist fight.

    Mouth like a badger's scrotum.

    Lungs like a deflated beachball.

    Memories like a disgraceful teenager.

    No, I didn't. But, God, I wish I'd come back at midnight.

  • E-tease

    A notification of an email arrives at the bottom of the screen as I log in.

    It's a response to a pitch I sent to an editor on Tuesday. I can see the first line...

    "Hi RTB, Many thanks for your email, we really love your..."

    *bounces up and down on seat whilst awaiting for the marginally less irritating than thrush increddddddibly slowwwwwww looogggggg-iiiiiiin prooooooooooooooocesssssssssss to complete*

    ... ideas for an article on xyz.

    Sadly, however, we don't have a budget for freelancers at this time, although should you still wish to contribute a relevant piece, we would be happy to publish it for you.

    Best wishes,
    etc.

  • Sadness and shame

    I don't usually do this. After all, it's all over the news.

    But today, just for one moment, imagine what it's like to be here:

    More than 230 people died on a day of carnage in Iraq.

    One witness said: 'There were pieces of flesh all over the place. Women were screaming and shouting for their loved ones who died.'

    Shopkeeper Ahmed Hameed said: 'The street was transformed into a swimming pool of blood.'

    Metro, today.

     
    The horror that is out there in the world.

  • Pass me the lighter

    Packet of Camel Lights and a tub of Triphala, please.

    Incidently, you've got to feel sorry for those Indian scientists, who obviously slave away without anyone paying them the slightest bit of notice...

  • Well aloo there

    My work colleague who sits opposite me is eating curry for lunch.

    Potato curry.
    Potato curry with aubergines. And tomatoes.
    Gorgeous-smelling potato curry with aubergines and tomatoes.

    And there goes the final spoonful...

    Ooops! Think I may have just drooled into my poxy pointless deeply unsatisfying dust and water cup-a-soup.

  • Great money/planet-saving idea from Google

    1. Go to Google.
    2. Click on "Maps".
    3. Click on "Get directions".
    4. Type London in the first (from) box.
    5. Type New York in the second (to) box and hit "Get directions" on the same line.
    6. Scroll down to step #37.

  • This can't be good.

    I'm watching a programme about transsexuals.

    And my initial reaction?

    I'm thinking that so many of them appear to be far more attractive women than me.

  • Good news and bad

    Looks like I should have had a shower this morning, after all.

    The bad news is that my anticipated bath stay at Eleven Didsbury Park Hotel has been cancelled for tonight.

    The good news is that the invite is still open, and my deadline for the review has been extended for another few weeks, which gives me enough time to pull a suitable companion decide upon a suitable date at my leisure.

    I'm thinking a weekend bath stay may be in order.

  • Turn on BBC2 right now!!

    Reckon your family are weird? Try this one.

    The dad dresses up like Elvis and impersonates him. He "embodies the spirit" of Elvis.

    His son can go into a trance and is possessed by (a Hebrew-speaking) Elvis. He then performs Elvis songs, whilst watching "himself" in his old videos.

    Elvis writes the family notes, which magically appear out of thin air, screwed up on the floor. They say insightful things revealing the meaning of life as we know it. Like: "Happy birthday."

    And the cat... is possessed by Elvis's mother.

  • Well, well, well

    Looks like I can access my wireless broadband whilst sat on the lovely green grass oustide my flat, basking in the warm sunshine.

    Hm. What's the weather forecast for tomorrow?

  • My duvet is far from funky

    Well, I stayed off blog all morning. And I might have made it further into the afternoon if a certain someone had bloody well left me in peace...

    ;)

    (That title's for you, by the way, in case you hadn't guessed.)

    So anyway... tomorrow I have a free night's stay booked in at the aforementioned Eleven Didsbury Park Hotel. They don't have a restaurant, but they do have a deli menu in the bar, which I plan to take full advantage of. And the deli menu, too.

    There is a slight dilemma in that the invite is for two people. And I'm only one.

    Invite a mate? Sounds good in principle... but there's only one bed. And most of my closer friends around here - and closer they would indeed have to be - tend to be male. And I don't think they'd find the idea of having a free night's stay on a hotel room floor terribly appealing, no matter how swanky the floor (And, even if they did, I'm guessing that their girlfriends might not.).

    And yes, there are some who I would trust to share the same bed as me with without trying on a bit of kinkiness think; but... well, you try it out in your head:

    "Alright, mate? Listen, I don't fancy you or anything, but would you like to spend the night in a hotel, which is just down the road from where you live, with me? Same bed, yes, that's right. Oh hey, and I hear they've got a great big bath that would fit two people, doesn't that sound like fun?"

    Maybe not.

    Still, it's doubtless for the best, from a professional point of view.

    I shall be able to check in at my leisure. Take a tour and investigate the pros and cons of this Victorian town house. Give the food and service my full and undivided attention. And perhaps, if I'm feeling really organised, I could even type up the review whilst I'm there.

    Yep, sounds like a plan.

    Hm... Maybe there'll be a fit concierge...

    ;)

  • Top tip for the ladies

    When wandering along the street, enjoying the freedom of being out and about in the invigorating freshness of springtime, and it strikes how you much more friendly and smiley everyone is inclined to be when the sun is shining and the blossom is slowly unfolding on the trees, think about taking a little time out to pop into a nearby clothes shop and try something on in the changing room.

    Because it might just be that those broad, joyful grins which you noted, and returned with the genuine pleasure that comes from recognising that we are all human and somehow drawn to share in the joys that nature can bring to us all, might not in fact be down to the changing of the seasons.

    Instead, it might be because you happen that morning, whilst in the relative darkness of your bedroom, when the curtains were still drawn and you were unable to see the effect of the full glare of the sunlight, to have donned not only a see-through top, but also a see-through bra.

    I'm just saying, you might want to bear that in mind.

  • The best of intentions

    I thought I'd read through some information on starting your own business today, which I picked up from the local Business Link. I'd sit outside on the grass with a glass of wine and some bread and cheese, and read through it at my leisure. Make a few notes and list my priorities for the weeks ahead. Get organised.

    But then I had to get the information.

    I knew exactly which pile of paper it was in, on my bedroom floor. But then, when I found it, I thought that I should really sort through that pile of paper before I sat down to read, and file it all away neatly.

    And then I came across stuff that I knew went with stuff that was in another pile. So I thought I should sort that out too. This pile was in the lounge, so I took some of it through there.

    And then I thought I might as well go through the other pile that I'd hidden under my beanbag stored away for when I had a spare moment.

    And now both my bedroom and the lounge are covered, covered in piles of paper.

    I have a big black bag full of rubbish, and am starting another one. But still that paper keeps mounting up, and there seems to be so much more of it than there was when I started.

    Howwwwwwwwwwwwwwww?

    And it's a gorgeous day outside, and I'm supposed to be going to watch the Grand National in the pub, but if I do that I'll just end up getting lashed and coming back to a flat full of paper, and probably kicking over all the piles and have to start again from scratch again tomorrow, when I'll have a hangover and won't want to do it, and will instead lie curled up on the sofa watching shite TV and feeling ever guiltier because all that paper will be there in front of me all day, and P will get back and find me there, probably having given in to temptation and raided his room for some duty-free cigarettes which I know he has in there, smoking furiously, hungover, surrounded by paper, and he'll laugh at me and get me a beer, and then we'll end up going to the pub "for one", and then we'll get pissed, and get to bed late, and I'll wake up late and hungover on Monday morning and drag myself into work and do nothing of worth all day except blog and then I'll have to work late, and then I'll get back, and there will still be all this bastarding paper lying around, and I'll probably have lost that bloody information I was gong to read through in the first sodding place and it's all going horribly horribly wrong and is going to go wronger I can just tell!

    And all because I wanted to be organised.

    Bah!

    Where's the corkscrew?

  • Hi diddle-dee-dee, a freelancer's life for me

    Y'know, I might just be getting the hang of this negotiation malarky...

    Ed: "Would you like to write a 3,000 word article, from scratch, for a sum of money that in no way reflects or compensates for the significant amount of time and effort that you'll have to put into it?"

    RTB: "Errr... whilst I would like to thank you profusely for your devastingly kind offer, Mr Editor Sir, would you allow me to make the tiniest weeniest alternative suggestion... How's about accepting a slightly edited version of a 3,000 word article which I've already written and had published, for the same amount of money you've just offered me?"

    Ed: "Hm. That could be a plan."

    RTB: *silent woo-hoo!*

    And all this whilst still lying in bed...

  • Malaysian footnote

    Just to prove that I am working in bed, I've been tinkering with this article today...

    As the peaceful surface of the river started to shudder, I moved out from under the boat’s shelter to feel the refreshing bursts of large, warm raindrops on my skin. The air shifted, filling my nostrils with humid, heavy fragrances from the lush tropical undergrowth, seasoned with sea salt.

    “It will soon pass,” our guide Irshad calmly said; and, sure enough, the deluge was over within minutes, while the resuming combination of blazing sun and soft, warm breezes speedily dried my white cotton shirt as if nothing had happened.

    While the boat chugged slowly past the leafy, tiptoeing mangroves and majestic limestone outcrops which edge the Kilim River, Irshad pointed out details that our slower senses would otherwise have missed.

    The vibrant splash of a colourful kingfisher skimming over green-tinged water.

    The slow, implacable blink of a sunbathing monitor lizard.

    The twisted knot of a slender black and yellow striped snake, tied around a perilously high tree branch.

    And the heavy rustle of undergrowth that heralded the arrival of a long-tailed macaque monkey as it swung into view.

    Formerly a banker in the Malaysian capital of Kuala Lumpur, Irshad Mobarak fell in love with the island of Langkawi on his first visit nine years ago, and was inspired by its beautiful, richly diverse and vulnerable ecology to become the region's first naturalist.

    Now employed by the Datai Bay Resort, he runs boat tours through the mangrove swamps, via fishing villages and bat caves, and leads nature walks into the warm depths of the rich, tropical rainforest. The rest of his time is devoted to conservation, fighting to preserve Langkawi’s fragile, fragmented ecosystem in the implacable face of marching modern development.

    An intelligent and charismatic man, with gentle brown eyes and a warm, steady voice, Irshad has an engaging passion for his surroundings that is truly infectious.

    Every sighting is accompanied by a wealth of background detail, from the flying habits of swifts (which can apparently feed, mate and sleep on the wing), to the physical and financial struggles of migrant loggers from Thailand, who harvest wood from the mangroves to support their families.

    Our trip was an entertaining and thought-provoking insight into a side of Langkawi that is often overlooked in favour of the more obvious pleasures of this tropical tourist getaway: luxurious five-star resorts with private beaches; cheap duty-free shopping; a multitude of watersports, and the delectable variety of Malaysian cuisine.

    Irshad is quick to acknowledge how tourism has successfully boosted the local economy, bringing development, improved education and many other positive opportunities to this little agricultural community. Yet, the damaging effects which are all too often associated with this industry need to be managed carefully.

    Responsible eco-tourism can help.

    As we rounded into an open bay, we were greeted by the awesome vision of several magnificent birds of prey performing shooting swoops and dives as they circled gracefully overhead.

    An impressive display, it was nonetheless tinged with sadness, as Irshad explained that the birds were attracted by chicken pieces thrown from the boats of other tourist operators. This practice not only upsets the birds’ natural diet and feeding habits, but also increases the likelihood of disease spreading from contaminated meat. 

    Irshad is convinced that this possibility will one day become a reality, when the birds will disappear from the skies as swiftly as the rains do.

    “With more education, tourists will hopefully stop this practice, and the birds will be safe again,” he sighed, warm eyes riveted to the skies as the kites and eagles cried above us.

    Both the sight and sentiment are inspiring, given to us by someone who is so obviously in love with one of the region’s most beautiful islands.

    And who is so happy to share his hidden treasures with us, Langkawi’s lucky guests.