Hit and Running

There’s a guy who works in Morrisons where I live who really pisses me off. I vaguely know him from school (although not really) and I’ve met him a couple of times since, and don’t get me wrong, he’s a really nice guy. When he’s on the till he smiles at the customers, says please and thank you, and even occasionally manages to make conversation. All of which would normally have me writing complimentary letters to the management. But no. Everyone has their annoying habits, and his has me wanting to grab him firmly by the ears and shake vigorously.

Read the rest of Chip (And PIN) On My Shoulder

When will Southern learn? Once again I’m standing on a train between Lewes and Gatwick and the only thing keeping me sane is the ability to slag them off in my blog at the same time.

I took my Mum out for Sunday lunch at the Abergavenny Arms today. It’s a nice village pub about six or seven miles from home that traditionally has served a quality roast dinner. Today, they committed a cardinal sin. Brace yourselves people.

They served frozen roast potatoes.

This is a phenomenon I just don’t understand. If I go to a florist, it’s for fresh flowers. I don’t go to florists I buy flowers in Sainsbury’s, but that’s not the point. If I go out for a curry, I don’t expect it to come sealed in a polystyrene container ready for me to pierce the lid and microwave. So why do restaurants think it’s ever acceptable to serve potatoes that last saw earth in 1997 and have been held in a pseudo-cryogenic state of suspension ever since?

They’re not crispy on the outside. They’re not soft in the middle. They go from unnaturally yellow to black in far too small a space of time. To be blunt, they’re just not good enough.

Pubs and restaurants of Britain, sort it out.

Aunt Bessie should be shot

On 5 March 2004 I rocked up at Heathrow and legged it to Australia. While I was there I had many exciting experiences which I didn’t write down and have therefore largely forgotten (the moral of this story kids, keep a diary. Or steal someone else’s).

I came back just in time for Christmas with about a squillion photos on CD (God bless digital photography) which I put carefully into a CD wallet and therefore never got out again. Today I decided they deserve to be seen. And laughed at. So I’ve published them. 206 photos largely of people whose names I can’t remember in places whose names I can’t remember. And this is the edited highlights. So why bother at all? Well, contained within the selection are some memories of events, people and places that I could never forget.

Enjoy. I did.

Australia - 2004

A ten month jolly generates a fair few photos. This, believe it or not, is just a selection of them.

205 Photos

 

Friday night, Eastbourne Bandstand. Take That tribute band called ‘Back4Good’. All very exciting. Except me, and the group of people I was with, were far more interested in the woman sitting on the front row at the far left. She was, if it was humanly possible, a perfect hybrid of two women I work with. I won’t say who because that would be deeply wrong on many levels, suffice to say it was an incredible likeness.

A remarkable hybrid