For Christmas I Got

Two Pairs of Jeans
A Coffee Maker
A Book on Beer
A Fleece
Some Socks
Another Clock
A Biography of Steve Tyler???
A CD Cleaning Device
Some Chocolates

Beers and Beers and No Sausages

Last night on the spurs of the moment I found myself in the German market with some of my work colleagues. I drank lots of beers. I did intend to eat something but it never happened. I think I spoke of things that maybe I should have kept to myself because there was much egging on last night and much pisstaking this morning, girls obviously.

Now I have a beer related headache. I've agreed to go out tonight, that was at a moment where the pain had died down a little due to hair of the dawg, I certainly don't feel like boozing again now.

I'm sure I'll get back into the swings of things shortly.

I'm am listening to the Bays. I was listening to The Pains of Being Pure at Heart. I like them.

What I Done In Berlin the Other Week.

On the Thursday I visited the "sights" not that Berlin really has much of that it's more arts/nightlife based but I visited the Reichstag and the Brandenburg Gate and the Holocaust Memorial. I walked up a big avenue past the Berliner Dom, Karl Marx and Josef Engels and past the site of Schlossplatz, various embassies and lots of pretend old new buildings.

I returned to the hostel and grabbed a cheap bite to eat and a suprisingly cheap beer. Before checking out my options, one of the recommendations I'd had was to go on the Alternative Berlin Bar Crawl but there was only three of us willing to go and two dutch people who were more interested in going to a motown night so it didn't happen The two other guys Nick and George from Athens who were up for the pub crawl invited me out for a beer with them and an interesting night of Metal!!! ensued as did too many beers.

We visted a couple of bars before heading to the Kit Kat Club which is normally a sex club but on Thursday it turns into a rock disco. At about two I decided that I should probably jump on the last tube ride home, the only problem was that it was much later than I thought. I tried to follow the tube stops home but went in the wrong direction. Eventually I found a cab and got myself home.

Friday I went to see what is left of the Berlin Wall and visited a couple train stations that used to have tunnels that would run under West Berlin but had been blocked of in order that they became escape proof. I visited Potsdamer Platz but that's pretty uninspiring and ugly, the Sony Building especially.

That afternoon I met Steffi and later Dar for a beer in Kreutzberg which turned into about seven beers, she then took me to her favourite kebab shop, mine was cold, then back to her flat for more beer and German TV, 2 hours of dominos falling over, exciting.

Next morning I woke pretty early which meant I was able to join a street art tour of Berlin which went around some artist squats, graffiti sights and finished at a party/flea market/exhibition in a disused swimming pool. I was in two minds what to do, Steffi wasn't about and was left to my own devices, choice was go clubbing (James Holden, James Murphy and Nathan Fake were all playing at the same club) or go on the pub crawl that I'd missed the night before. Feeling sociable rather than danceable I decided to go and talk to people.

The pub crawl took us to a ping pong bar, where everyone runs around the table hitting the ping pong ball, rather fun I thought, to a bar owned by Rammstein, on the Party Bus where the barmaid fancied me but I've already mentioned that, to an "absinthe" bar, I didn't have any and finally to some bombed out warehouse that had a hip hop night on.

I spoke to loads of people as I was feeling loud and happy and confident, with me on the pub crawl was a couple from Bilbao, he French living in Bilbao with massive hair - she Basque living in Lenton with that funny fringe that many a Spanish girl sport (very very pretty young lady), the pub crawl lass from Essex via Newcastle, the barmaid and her mate, a French Canadian, a nice chatty Swedish girl with lots of lovely big red hair and a dodgy beret, her brother, a kid from Kazakhstan, a very weird Romanian girl and some Americans.

I'd met a Brazilian girl, Nina, earlier in the day on the arts tour and she'd come to the pub crawl as well. The hip hop club was a bit naff and she persuaded me to go and find somewhere else with her but we only got as far as the kebab shop around the corner, too pissed the pair of us. Not sure how I got home it was all a bit of a blur I remember being pushed onto a tram.

Teeth.

I am skint. I am maxed out on everything. I get paid tomorrow and already the money has been spent. I think I may have to turn to life of white collar crime in order to fund my extravagant lifestyle (or at least start an extravagant lifestyle)

My teeth hurt. So does my inner ear. It's not got to the point where it feels like somebody is drilling through my skull yet and may it stay like that. I've just taken two asprin and they've spaced me out slightly but not even touched the ache.

I had to come into work last night, someone had changed the settings on a live server bringing down a reasonably important system. Luckily I had just enough money to get a taxi home. Knackered now though, I think it might be a short day for me.

Capsule @ Hare and Hounds

I probably shouldn't have gone out last night, I am skint don't get paid for a few days was slightly hungover after swapping a healthy activity for an unhealthy on the previous evening. I also was knackered after actually spending the day working (Gaz assured me that it would make the day go faster but he was wrong). I am not however particularly strong willed when it comes to going out so bought meself a ticket and thought what the hell.

First act Theo used live looping to layer guitar sounds and then would jump onto the drums and bash out complex rhythms into the mix with an intensity that I've not seen in some time. It takes the one man band concept to another level.

Next up was crazy free jazz freek out dance band Zun Zun Egui, on paper they sound like everything I would avoid like the plague but they were brilliant. Each song started off slowly as some horrible jazz number and built up into Damo Suzuki-like krautrock workout and went through various different modes from afro to strange oriental nosies. I thought they were ace. So much so that I bought the CD which is something I rarely do at gigs. Not that I've listened to yet.

Wire magazine recently complained about Fuck Buttons using more commercial sounds but I think they are all the better for it, strange hearing euphoric dance noises in a rammed room on a Tuesday night.

Tonight was supposed to be my night off the sauce. Unfortunately I got invited to the pub.

Néboa

One of the best things that I saw at Sonar and he is giving away his album for free too.

http://virb.com/neboa

CDs Wot I've Got On My Desk

I've got quite a few CDs on my desk I should probably take some of them home.

Merriweather Post Pavilion - Animal Collective
Fleet Foxed - Fleet Foxes
Distance to Technoland 2 - Various Artists
Alas I Cannot Swim - Laura Marling
Mixmag Jun 09 Electro Techno Thunder - Boys Noize
First Days of Spring - Noah and the Whale
Daybreaker - Beth Orton
The Outsider - DJ Shadow
Mixmag Sep 09 Bestival - Rob Da Bank
Re-Animations Vol 1 - Beyond the Wizards Sleeve
Sci.Fi.Hi.Fi Vol 2 - Luciano
Fabric 27 - Mathhew Dear as Audion
What the Humans Eat - Willy Mason
Hard Island - Nathan Fake
Avalon Los Angeles - Sasha
Bloc Mix - Rusko
Fabric 18 - M.A.N.D.Y.
Jam J - James Vs Sabres of Paradise
The Downward Spiral - Nine Inch Nails
Some Cities - Doves
Supernature - Goldfrapp
Nocturnal Frequencies Anthology - Danny Howells
Yo La Tengo - Popular Songs

Uneasy Sleep

Monday I thought I was dying after three days of drinking far too much and watching dodgy folk music and staying out too late trying to empty barrels of real ale in after parties. Hungover wasn't the word, headache, gut ache, chest pains, nausea all added up for a gloriously productive full day of work. I'm not entirely sure how I managed to drag my fat arse out of bed in the first place.

Couldn't sleep that night kept waking up every fifteen minutes jumping out of uneasy dreams with horrible twinges and muscle spasms.

Obviously I didn't want to get out of bed the following morning...still felt pretty awful. Couldn't concentrate. Considered enrolling on a Spanish course but because none of them start until eight o'clock in the evening thought that there was bugger all chance of me actually going to it. Mandarin, Korean and Russian all start at 6.30 so maybe I'll enrol on one of them next week.

Decided to go to the quiz at the last minute, had four beers and was glad that we lost because inevitably that would have meant four more. Couldn't sleep again.

Spent the day pointlessly arguing over nothing with Dan and Joe on the Interweb when I should have been working. The Internet usage report for the previous couple of months came in, I was sixth with about 5% of the total usage down somewhat on the previous time. Didn't stop me posting another million posts...

Watched the soccerball, shooting stars, newsnight, the wire and some all female poker match where nobody gambled even more dull than it normally is and thought it might send me to sleep, it didn't.

I actually did some work yesterday and that was after a two pint two hour all you can eat leaving lunch. Suprised myself.

Got home about six, mercilessly killed people on GTA4 for about two hours and then went to bed in boredom. Slept mostly soundly for over 12 hours, I did wake up and without having a clue where I was or what time it was before looking out of the window and then going back to sleep.

Broken Embraces

I went to see Broken Embraces last night. I think sometimes Penelope Cruz looks stunning other times she looks like a funny little duck.

The film was OK, I thought it would be more visually stunning given that it's a film about film and that's why I thought I'd go see it in the cinema. It was pretty enough but it just wasn't quite what I was expecting I don't think and I'm not sure whether the film within a film thing worked as well as it could have done.

Tenerife and it's volcanic terrain looks dead strange, I'm not sure when they filmed it but it looks so cold and miserable and windy. There was a great peice of music, a solo singer, I think singing in English but it could have been Spanish, playing as they swept over the barren landscape, love to know who it was.

The queue for the cinema was out the door and yet there were only about seven people watching the film, not much call for a subtitled Spanish film about a film director coming to terms with the loss of his sight and love I don't suppose, people like big explosions and flashy lights.

A List.

Here is a list of things that I've apparently looked up in Wikipedia whilst at work in the last couple of weeks.

1984
Armin Van Buuren
Athens
Back to the Planet
Binary Space Partitioning
Bow Saws
Boyer-Watson Algorithm
Coming Up For Air
Delauney Triangulation
Divide and Conquer Algorithm
Dubonney
Estimation Theory
Expectation Maximisation Algorithm
Festivals
Fleet Foxes
Fortunes Algorithm
Galileo Galilei
Garden Festival
Getting Things Done
Grand Theft Auto 4
Internet Addiction
Judge Dread
Julia (1984)
Laura Marling
Legal Drinking Age in Europe
Music of California
Noah and the Whale
Nottingham
Oceania
Peaceful,the World Lays Me Down
Plot Generator
Procrastination
Saw
Senser
Susanna Hamilton
Telescope
The Napoleon of Notting Hill
The Squid and the Whale
Triangulation
Voronoi Diagrams
Yvonne Mitchell

Broken Body

I finished the weekend feeling like I've not stopped boozing for months and months, Friday night was a bog standard leaving do stroke pay day effort, too many beers in the shakespeare followed by too many more elsewhere (this time the Actess and Bishop) followed by a drunken stumble either home or (rarely) into a club for more booze.

Saturday was a barbeque day at Paul and Kerri's where again I pushed the boat out again somewhat on the drinking front even to the point of considering a two years out of date bottle of Peroni. I wasn't hungover on Sunday at all but it was the most miserable day, raining, cloudy, dark, boring.

Then on Monday I ended up back in the pub, this time at the Coach and Horses for a pig roast. I was quite pissed after about six pints and one pig sandwich but that didn't stop me from carrying on drinking about another six more.

My body is telling me to have a break...

Po Face Canadian Doomsters

I saw a band at the Hare and Hounds last night from Canadia who played their geetars with a bow to make soundscapes and were generally a bit po faced and boring.

The boy had a beard and was going bald and was miserable looking and played the guitar while plugging in things into a suitcase of mystery. The girl turned her back to audience and played a bass guitar with her bow.

I didn't see them once smile or talk to each other or anything.

The support band were equally as crap, a group of baldies, the singer had to keep referring to his lyric sheet on the floor and I'm not why when the lyrics were as inane as "brilliant heavens, there must be more" repeat....

Rubbish. Don't go and see Nadja or Iroha. They are crap and are even worse at looking mean and moody than that La Roux woman and she looks like she's cacked her pants.

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

I went to see a bunch of hippies wave their arms around in the air and make music that sounded like the Polyphonic Spree jamming with the Arcade Fire. They were acetastic and I highly recommend them.

Y-Not

I really enjoyed the Y-Not festival in Derbyshire, the mud was pretty horrendous and I didn't actually see any bands (lots of sound checks) but it didn't matter the mud football, vandalism of festival art, the names of the the beer, the world's slowest dodgems and all round festival sillyness was brilliant.

Supersonic Festival

Most people would have had the weekend off after a big holiday but the Supersonic Festival was on and it was the first weekend in sometime where I haven't had to worry about Joshua as he was on holiday with his Mom. I was a bit disappointed that I couldn't persuade anyone to join me and if I'd known that Dan was going to a festie in Oxford I probably would have gone there instead.

I didn't get back to Birmingham from Valencia till around six, I dumped my stuff at home quickly grabbed something to eat and then headed into town to meet my workmates for their payday friday drink. I stayed in the pub with them till about ten and then jumped in a cab to the Custard Factory and got ripped off I feel.

There was some kind of minicab driver protest going on which was blocking the roads but I'm pretty sure taxi driver knew of this and deliberately drove me to it. Fucker.

This was quickly forgotten as I was handed my wristband and rather lush program and into the festival I went. Friday nights are traditionally electronica nights but tonight Sunn 0))) were the headliners who were so fucking loud, so loud I needed to shove bog roll down my ears to stop myself from going deaf. Following the 0))) was Venetian Snares who made a strange d'n'b type noise.

Saturday started off OK I really like the minimalism of Japanese girl group Nisennenmondai but the rest of the day seemed really really heavy (I know it's a most metal festival but this stuff seemed more heavy than usual) which wasn't that fussed about so headed home early(ish).

Sunday was better but was really damp, the music was heavy but cool, I really liked the bands Pontiak, Earthless and Arboretum. I enjoyed Khyam Allami playing the Ude, I think he seemed genuinely suprised at the reception he got from a metal crowd.

I was pretty soaked through and decided to dry off in the Old Crown before watching Caribou. I saw them at Dissonanze at thought they were brilliant but this time they just didn't do it for me and neither did Italian "legends" Goblin.

Overall it was pretty cool and I saw some interesting stuff but it was maybe slightly too heavy for me this year.

Day 14 - Mojito Night.

The last night of my holiday started with Mojitos and ended with me sending a text to my boss at about four in the morning saying that I was in a bar with two attractive blondes and I didn't want to come home.

Day 13 - Botanical Gardens

Today was a day of two extremes.

I spent about three hours relaxing in the Botanical Gardens. Which was most pleasant.

Then...

I was invited to go for a beer with a couple of scouse lads...

...the night finished for me when some Spanish girl with ample boobages tried to dance with me but I was physically incapable of moving.

The sun was starting to come up and I staggered home. I saw a spanish girl cycling towards me, somewhat erratically, she stoped and started saying something about "agua agua", I spoke gibberish to her in English which she didn't understand, she spoke some Spanish gibberish back to me. We were both incredibly pissed I have no idea what she was saying and I guess she has no idea what I was on about either. We stood twittering on at each other for at least 20 minutes. We then said goodbye to each other and headed off in a separate ways.

People were heading on their ways to work as I finally realised where I was supposed to be going.

Day 11 and 12 - Sleep and Modern Art.

Unfortunately Joe and I were daft enough to book a much later train than was sensible, which meant we had to spend the entire day sitting in a zombielike state in a cafe.

I'd booked a first class ticket home which was definately worth the money, nice big seats and plenty of leg room. I couldn't however get to sleep I thought I was going to have a heart attack or something the week had taken its toll. I guess drinking solidly for the most part of ten days and only getting one hangover is just building up to something nasty.

I didn't have a heart attack.

I got to my hostel at around seven in the evening, showered and went to bed. I didn't wake up til about one the next day. I ate.

I visited the modern art gallery and was well impressed with the one exhibition - you had to walk through a pitch black corridor before pushing though a rubber seal to a white room full of posters for (imaginary?) punk rock gigs and huge erotic pictures and day glo graffitti on the walls. In the corner there was a massive soundsystem playing out some beat poetry. Then an alarm went and all the lights in the room cut out and electro house music kicked in and strobes started flying around. Not sure what it was supposed to be saying but I thought it rather cool.

The rest of the gallery was more sensible but had a decent exhibition looking at really small things and really big things. And a collection of Valencian artists from the Modernista period.

Had a fairly quiet night I tried badly to chat up a pretty nineteen year old ginger lass, she didn't run off and bought me a couple of beers so it worked to some extent. ;)

Day 10 - Last Day of Music

The last day consisted off sitting around cafes to stay out of the sun. I drank shandies, Paul slept and Joephie just stayed quiet. We didn't realise that the supermarkets closed around one, Joe harped on about Sunday closing but I hadn't witnessed any difference in Valencia anyhow Paul and I ran around like headless chickens for a while.

Sophie had strop, she ordered a lamb kebab and got a lamb kebab then jumped up and down saying she wanted chicken, the waiter said 'mixta' and she said 'yes'. Then she was hopping about because he returned with a chicken and lamb mix. Then didn't eat her food.

As with the other nights we had some beers around the camp and then met up with Rob and cronies. I don't actually remember watching anything for more than about ten minutes...Paul didn't seem to happy that the majority of the acts were dancey. I couldn't keep in one place and wandered from stage to stage. It was a disjointed evening, there were no acts that I actually wanted to see. We stood for ages waiting for the Killers but when they started people were jumping around all over the place and I couldn't see fuck all and had no inclination to jump up and down for an hour so thought bugger this. Wes and Ian joined me. We drank a lot.

Then it was going home time DJ Hell was saying something about it being a highly special moment or somthing. Enthusiastic Joe was still hopping around like somebody who drank too many red bulls. We got back to the campsite and Sophie was packing up ready to catch her bus and plane home.

Then the festival was finished.

Day 9 - Fib Saturday

This was the day that I drank constantly, slow enough to stay reasonably oiled and keep away any thoughts of hangovers or tiredness. Joe and Paul took it in turns to sleep while the other amused me. At one bar Joe was mocked for his lightweightedness. Joe complained on a hangover but couldn't understand why he had one because he'd only had "one or two" drinks....hahaha lying toad.

We were at the campsite in the late afternoon, Joe wanted to try and sleep off his hangover, so Paul and I decided to go and see if there was anything worth seeing in the festival site. There were a couple of Spanish bands playing but they weren't too interesting so we sat on the grass in the shade with a beer or two. I've never been to FIB before about half eight in the evening - I wasn't missing much. Back to the tent to freshen up and more Sangria.

The two acts of the weekend that I most wanted to see were the Friendly Fires and Lily Allen. Lily Allen had obviously heard of the wind and fire and bottled out and the organisation of the festival dodgy enough so that the Friendly Fires (who were on the Sunday) were moved forward by over an hour which meant that they were already on by the time that we had arranged to meet Rob and the others.

Before meeting the others we saw Elbow, Paul said he couldn't believe that it was almost midnight at the second night of the festival and he was seeing only his first band.

There was some discussion as to whether or not we wanted to see Peaches Geldof, Joe and I tried to tell people that it wasn't that peaches. Wes wanted to see Rob topless and this was duly arranged (not the most outrageous stag thing I know but its as far as we got) and then Peaches wanted everyone else to take theres off too.

Much to Paul's dismay the next thing was *MORE* Dance Music, Gui Boratto, I reckon we were the only English people watching him, everyone else had taken themselves off to see the perriennually overrated 2manyDjs. Gui Borrato is cool, even Joe liked him and Joe honestly really doesn't like Dance music.

I then lost everyone. Watched a little bit of Aeroplane. Got bored. And went into a sulk. And went to bed.

Day 8 - It's A Little Bit Windy.

Paul was due to arrive, yesterday however I received a text off him asking if he need a ticket for the festival??? I was pretty amazed when I randomly bumped into him on the way to the bog.

It was the strangest night I've ever had at a festival. We were sat around the campsite drinking beer, sangria and vodka and cokes. It was unnaturally calm and I asked Joe if he thought there was going to be a storm, he said he thought not. A little later the wind had picked up and was a little blustery, I thought nothing of it and continued to drink at the campsite until we got the call to meet Rob and Wes.

As we were walking towards the festival we notices a big black cloud arising in the distance. It was noted that Paul had disappeared for around an hour for a "nap and shower". Suspicious, we thought so.

All the time the wind was getting more and more whippy and vicious. I picked up a big cardboard box and used the corners as wind break until I realised it was big enough to fully enclose myself in it - Joe's version of this story is slightly different but that doesn't matter - as well as Joe and Paul. This strange situation led to us even more bizarrely being interviewed for Spanish TV with pretty spanish reported joining us in cardboard box.

Next we had to go to meet up with Rob's brother. Enthusiastic Joe seemed eager to be doing things and kept asking "who are we waiting for?" and "who is this Ian fellow?" so I designated him to be Sophie's chaperone while she went off to meet her mates a task he took with great relish and off they went. The wind still increasing in strength.

It wasn't too long after this that I managed to lose everyone whilst pushing through the crowd.

The wind by now was absolutely ridiculous, all of the stages were closed with the exception of the main stage where the Tom Tom Club were bravely (I'd say stupidly) soldiering on before something big fell off the front and a voice came over the tannoy telling us all to piss off.

I tried to wait in the spot where we had originally all met up but there was a dangerous number of people clambering around me so I decided the best plan was to head back to the tent. The problem with that plan was that we were all bottlenecked into going through a small walled roadway over a railway bridge. People at the back started pushing and I thought that it was a stampede waiting to happen so I turned around and walked away from the crowds and towards the town.

I ring Joe to see what he was doing and he informs me that he is sat in the back stage area supping cocktails or something and that Sophie wanted me to give Martin the barman from Tuesday night a ring to tell him to open his bar. I tell them that I will meet them there.

Walking towards the town was horrible, the dust from the car park was I think being directed by the wind solely into my nose and eyes. As I got into town the chances of a bar being open didn't look that good but it was cool being a bit more sheltered from the wind. I headed towards the meeting point anyway and luckily the bar was still open and rammed full of gorgeous spanish ladies. Martin apologised for the wind and the closure of the festival and I grabbed a beer.

About half hour later Jophie and friends turned up. Joe was staggering about slurring a lot and was the most drunk I have seen him in about three years and Sophie was ridiculously drunk which made her even more hyperactive than normal. I liked Sophie's mates they were chatty and funny and cool but one of them wouldn't stop rubbing her eyes because the dust and was making them redder and redder and redder. I'm pretty sure that if I hadn't threatend to chop her hands off she would have had blood spurting from her eyes.

Being in the bar made me forget about the wind and it wasn't until I foolishly stuck my head out the front door that I remembered that it might be a good idea to see if my belongings were still there.

I told Joe I was going back to see if my tent was still standing and he decided to come. Sophie decided that she needed more to drink and was going to stay, as I told her I was going I touched her shoulder and she must have jumped about ten feet in the air as though I'd grabbed her behind which I thought very odd.

The walk home with a pissed Joe going on about how great the wind was was actually quite amusing. As we were walking to the campsite there were scores of people with folded up tents leaving the campsite, I guess to sleep in cars or whatever. The bar area of the campsite was looking a little unsafe part of roof had sheared off and the campsite next to it was sealed off completely. My tent had blown down but was still pegged in I decided that I might try and sleep on top but there was too much dust blowing in my face so I then instead I climb inside the canvas without the poles. Joe in the meantime appeared to be having a whale of a time collecting big rocks and pegging things down. I actually had a decent sleep my only worry was that somebody might tread on me but this didn't happen.

The lads in the tent next to us had hankered down for the night with a crate of beer to ride out the storm and were taking it turns on beer watch. When I arrived back at the campsite at least three people offered help, dunkirk spirit and all that.

Looking back I think it was probably the most memorable night of the festival and was actually a whole lot of fun even if parts of it were a bit painful.

FIB 2009 - Thursday

Sophie had left to go off somewhere, she said to meet friends but I think she'd had enough of Joe and I and wanted to spend some time on her own. Several vodkas and cokes and one cold communal shower later we made a doomed effort to find Rob and Wes in the massive queue for tickets. Figuring that it was probably pointless we headed into the festival area and caught the last couple of Spanish surf rockers Los Coronas, I think they could have been quite big in the nineties.

Oasis Oasis Oasis...we didn't see them. We decided upon The Walkmen from New York who were generally rather good although a couple I times I thought they veered into Coldplay teritory. I think when they first came on there could not have been more than 20 people watching them but as more and more people realised how terrible Oasis were more joined us.

I don't remember the exact sequence of events but somehow I think we managed to meet up with the Rob the Stag and Wes the Best Man during Telephathe without too much difficulty. I thought these french ladies and their wierdo take on the eighties was pretty cool, Joe said he thought they looked like lesbians, I think they just look like pretty french girls. Anyway I like their music.

Gawd that drummer from Glasvegas is a big big lass, boom booom boom booom, she goes on her skins. Not much variation. Which I think describes Glasvegas. Not too impressed Rob demands that we take him to the dance tent.

On the way he stops off for a SUPERMOJITO - basically a schooner of white rum with a mint leaf and one ice cube floating around on the top.

Christian Smith is playing on the second stage his music goes up and up and up and up, then the filter comes in and cuts all the bass out before dropping in a huge huge bassline, this he repeats at regular intervals. This style must come from the A to Z of how to be a house DJ, ok but not exactly inspiring. I've since seen some footage filmed by him since then and it looks amazing to be that person in front of ten thousand plus idiots dancing.

Rob and Wes declared at this point that it was their bedtime and Joe disappeared too - I get a message saying that he was going home if he could find the exit.

Next thing I am dancing away to Kevin Saunderson when I see Sophie in front of me being harrassed by a Spanish guy who kept insisting that she took beer, cigarettes, pills off him that she didn't want. When I went over to her she flung her arms around me as if to say THANK FUCKING CHRIST. His mates appear out of nowhere and one of them bites a whole in the bottom of his litre beer and starts pouring into my mouth. I go from being a nicely oiled to being shitefaced.

The spanish people are cool, although only one of them can speak English (the wife of the pissed bloke tipping beer into my mouth) and my Spanish is rudimentary at best but they tell me that they were all locals who were still amused that so many English would bother to to turn up to their little town, especially when we had so many festivals in England.

Inner City come on and the average age ove people in front of the stage rises but at least ten years, all the kids go to bed. Sophie tells me that I don't need to stay because of her, I tell her that I wasn't then she disappears. Inner City were OK, big lasses, Rich Meeking would have been in his element. :)

The music finished about five thirty. Then I head off to bed.

Day Seven.

Deer lasagna for breakfast, very tasty.

An afternoon on the beach followed up with about four or five jugs of sangria whilst admiring another type of jugs attached to the barmaid of the pub across the road.

A perfect way to spend the day.

Now the festival was about to start proper.

Day Six - LAZY

We spent the day at the Waterpark, it was extremely busy and I could not be bothered to queue up to go on the slides. I read Sophie's Cosmopolitan magazine and to be perfectly honest was a little bit bored.

I can't remember what we did in the evening, Joe says we had an early night, I think he is probably right

Five Days In

Woke up feeling quite hungover, thankfully its a grey morning so I don't have to contend with supersweat and superheat carrying my stuff to the train. The train is very swish, seats that you can choose you direction and plenty of leg room. Annoyingly I can't sleep my hangover off on the train.

The ride to Benicassim was hassle free, there seems to be an awful lot of one horse towns along the way. The train pulls in and I walk to the campsite and meet Sophie. I half-heartedly erect my tent while Sophie goes off to buy me a beer. The beer goes down very very well. Nice and refreshing. Then Sophie decides to pour me a vodka and coke.

Once I am settled in and relaxed and slightly tipsy we walk into the town in order to look for a seafood restaurant that we had eaten in the previous time we were in the town. We found the restaurant only this year they were only selling steak and chips. We ordered and ate and then strolled to the beach.

At the beach there were so many pasty English people it felt like I was at Bognor.

Joe texted me to tell me that he would be arriving and was expecting me to carry all of his things and erect his tent. Ha fat chance. On his arrival he was lucky enough to find a small spot next to us. More vodka and coke.

By this time it was starting to get dark and Joe wished to buy himself an airbed so we tramped back into town. Luckily the shops were still open and airbeds purchased.

The we decided that we should probably go and get a drink.

The times I visited Benicassim before there was a square of cacophonous noise and bars overflowing with festival goers. The square is still there but the bars either closed or empty. I have subsequently learned that his was due to the police closing them all down after noise complaints, the puritans strike again! We ordered a sangria which was very nice and then another which tasted strange, I think due to the fact that coca cola had replaced red wine as the base ingredient.

We decided that we would go for one more drink and call it a night.

We wandered around for a while and then chanced upon a empty looking bar with a sign that promised a garden terrace, we figured that it would nice and chilled out to sit there. I marched through the door while Joe and Sophie dawdled around the entrance. Inside was a modern looking white bar with very few drinks. The barman beckoned us inside and asked us where we were from and what we wanted. Joe and I had a beer, Sophie a spirit. The barman told us his name was Martin and invited us to try a traditional Valencian spirit which I think tasted similar to ouzo. Then he invited us to try another spirt this time from Ibiza.

Martin had only recently taken control of the bar from his father and was learning the ropes. There was an annoying English kid in the bar who was obviously on his last drink of the night. Unfortunately Martin was unable to tell him to get the fuck away from the back of the bar. The kid was harmless but was being a bit of nuisance, he eventually succumbed to the 70% spirit he had consumed and left to puke his stomach contents up. He did briefly come back in with more alcohol in his head but we were able to persuade him that it was a bad idea and his girlfriend that it was time to drag him back to his tent.

We chatted to Martin some more and had a few more beers, were invited to carry on at another bar, I had me mostly sensible head on, Joe said he was tired, Sophie was tempted but decided against it and we left for the night.

The walk home was quite funny from what I remember, lots of drunken falling about stupidness.

Still My Holiday - Day Four

I was supposed to go to Benicassim and meet Sophie on the Monday but had booked another night in Valencia anyway, half heartedly wandered to the train station to discover that only early trains were still free and received a text off Joe telling me hang tough and put off camping till the latest possible minute. In other words I didn't bother.

Instead I went to the Cathedral to see the Holy Grail. And visited the the space age science museum, it has the best paddling pool that you are not allowed to paddle in ever. You can't possibly take a bad picture of it. I took a wrong turn and found myself trying to walk along a motorway before thinking stupid idea Richard why don't you turn around and get the bus. Which is what I did.

Later that day I met an 18 year old German/Australian girl travelling with her 17 year old Ecuadorian/German girl, both charming. Somebody told me later that he was jealous of my Latina girlfriend....hahah....that's quite funny, she young, highly attractive with little English, me old fart, monster with little Spanish and no German.

That night I got right royally pissed with some Australian blokes and some lasses from Oban.

My Holiday - Day 3

Fireworks and brass bands violently awoke me from my slumber, although not for too long before drifting back to sleep...Getting up just before noon I decided to see if I could catch the free walking tour of Valencia which was pretty good and killed a couple of hours. The tour took us around the city walls, through various different churches, to a sweet shop, to a bus stop, to the ajuntament and around the markets. After that I had a bit of stroll around the shops which I was suprised to find open.

The rest of the afternoon was pretty lazy. I drank wine and argued with the slovakian hostel handyman/freeloader who seemed to have a bit of a problem with christians.

My room had been taken over by a group of nice but far too sensible kids from Nottingham. They invited me to go for a walk around the city with them which I did and enjoyed their company but at about half nine they decided - actually it was the most sensible (but rather gorgeous) one of them that decided - that they needed an early night before their TEN O'CLOCK coach to Benicassim the following morning. Now I'm pretty sure that if it had been my first night on holiday I would have been saying that I needed and early night and would take it easy as I was stumbling home from some bar or club as the sun was coming up the next morning - but then I'm not that sensible.

Obviously half nine is too early for me so I went off for a wander around the town for a beer or three. In the main square there was some kind of ballroom dancing competition occurring, strangely to the music of Fatboy Slim. Somehow I found myself in the bar that was just about to be taken over by the hostel pub crawl. I got talking to the kid that was organising it and event though I accused him of being Irish (he was a Scotsman) he asked me if I fancied joining them for nothing. So free booze for me.

To be perfectly honest I can't say were we went or what I did that night but except for there being some very excitable lads from Sheffield on the crawl and some nice but dull Canadian girls too plus I remember staggering home as the sun was coming up, which I think means it was too late.

When I got back to my room I was fronted with the sight of the most sensible but gorgeous one of the group lying on her bunk legs akimbo, knickers attached to the bottom of her foot and no sheet to cover herself because it was sprawled on the floor. I was quite tempted to do the gentlemanly thing and cover her up but figured that in my highly inebriated state would have woken her and then would have had quite some explaining to do. So jumped into my bed and stored the image for future reference.....muuuuuhahahaha.

My Holiday - Day Two

I felt sick.

I somehow dragged myself to the beach only to realise that it was a very stupid idea. I was so dehydrated that I thought I was going to faint. I then struggled back to the hostel and struggled to go back to sleep. Horrible day.

I didn't feel too much brighter in the evening. I had a couple of beers in an "irish" bar were I was forced into some odd darts game in order to win a T-Shirt that was about nine sizes too small for me. Then wandered the streets for a bit thinking should I go for a pint or not before turning a corner to discover some Valencian folk singing troupe blocking the way, they seemed to be taking it in turns to sing and drink beer.

Again the hostel experience had been a bit of non too friendly one and company was a bit lacking. I had an earlyish night.

What I Did On Holiday - Day One.

I arrived at Valencia airport and caught the metro to the train station only to find that I hadn't bought the correct ticket and was unable to get through the barrier to get out of the station. There was no guard to show my ticket to so I walked along the station towards the other exit only to find I had the same problem. Luckily there was a slightly broken barrier that I was able to take a run at and destroy completely whilst making good my escape.

It was pretty hot walking through Valencia to my hostel and was sweaty prefusely by the time I arrived, I had to wait around in reception for what felt like an age before I could check in. Eventually I was given a key to my room and pretty much collapsed on my bed (having had a skinful the night before and an early start) there was a couple in my room who thought that I was about as talkative as a mute.

I can't remember how long I was asleep but at some point I took myself up to the roof terrace and dropped off to sleep there...

I was sat around the hostel for a few hours and not once did anybody say hello, it was mostly full with what appeared to be eighteen year old sixth form girls, some rather cliquey Australian ladies and no solo travellers whatsoever. At some point in the evening I wandered off to grab a beer in the main Placa Del Virgen and watch peoples before returning to the hostel and more indifference. If that had been my first hostel experience I think perhaps it would have been my last.

I thought about going to sleep and calling the day a write off only to be asked by the hostel handyman/freeloader if I was interested in the organised pub crawl. I figured that I hadn't spoken to anyone all day and decided bugger it why not?

The pub crawl joined about six different Valencian hostels which was pretty cool. I chatted to some Kiwi lads and a rather refined Australian guy. The night took us to four different bar club things. The first was pretty shite but we had the choice of a free Agua de Valenciana or beer or Sangria. The second place was OK music was a mixture of everything that was popular twelve months previous. Again I think we had another free drink, beer I think. After this the tour moved about 100 yards up the road to Radio City, this time the drink was some horrible spanish spirit. By this point I was best mates with the Kiwis, had started on the Cuba Libres and was dancing like a loon to reggaton music. The majority of the pub crawl had drifted off in their separate directions but at four o'clock the Irish girl organising the event bawled out that there was still one place to go and that it was time to have one more drink before moving on. The next place looked huge inside, I realised that it wasn't when I walked into a mirror. I really have little recollection of this final place other than we were given a blue slush puppy type alcoholic drink.

I think I got home around about half five.

Sonar 2009 - Day Six - Afterwards

This was the only day where I had a lie in, didn't get up till about half three. Considered going to the beach for the parties but instead settled in an Irish bar in order to watch the 20/20 World Cup Final. There were many in there who would normally not enter a den of iniquity. Pakistan won and probably rightly so - match was closer than it needed to be.

Initially not intending to drink, blonde barmaid kept plying me, this in turn led to a night of a great deal of booze in the hostel. With Simon and Julian? from South Africa, 'stalian lovely, some English from Hamburg (including irritating freshed faced, intelligent and rather lovely girl from Grantham - ooh if only I'd have been ten years younger she could have knocked me back), Blanca and Yvette (how was very german on her beer run). What started as a couple of drinks ended in me not going to bed till five in the morning playing silly card games with Americans.

My brother got hideously hideously drunk he must have asked the same girl fourteen times where she was from and was wrestling other peoples drinks off them...hmmm...that's a no no - I pretended he wasn't there.

Sonar 2009 - Day Five - Saturday

Once again my brother had to return to his bed because he can't handle the pace, we did look around the funny instruments section of Sonar some of them were pretty cool to play with, the REACTable is pretty cool.

The music at this years Sonar for me personally was pretty average, I really don't think that I saw a stand out act or anyone that make music that I'd not heard before despite the Advanced Music part of the festivals title. I think the fact that I spent two hours lounging around in the pro area charging my phone lays testament to this. The only act I can remember watching on the Saturday afternoon was a scottish guy make extremely loud Mogwai style soundscapes in the Church hall part of the festival.

The evening was pretty cool, we met some nice people on the roof, a fit (in both senses of the word) young lady from 'stralia, two kiwis, Blanca from Macedonia and Yvette from Germany. We drank fair few beers before heading out to the night part of the festival. Again it seem to go in a flash and the same as the day part I really can't remember watching anything. I was quite chilled out though and was sitting down listening to whatever was playing but every spanish person that walked past me decided that I needed to stand up, maybe I looked ill or something. There was a bizarre incident with two people sitting atop a white horse with ghost style sheets on their heads. Hmmm.

Orbital played...Edward reckoned they were too tinny. I saw bits of Moderat and Jeff Mills and probably everything else but was a bit indifferent to it all. I wasted a lot of money on the Dodgems.

Then the festival was over.

Not as fun as other years I don't think, too much weeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee duh duh duh duh weeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeh....and not enough floaty house music for my liking. Can't say I had a bad time though but four years in a row probably too much. Next year somewhere else I think.

Sonar 2009 - Friday

So this morning I had the unenviable task of dragging my blind sibling across Barcelona to find an opticians that would replace his glasses on the same day. The girl on the hostel desk couldn't help us so I caught the Metro to the Eixample and luckily we discovered one with not too much of a problem. My brother went into the screening room while I chatted to the girl on the desk who was also going to Sonar that evening.

The screening went like this:

Sharp intake of breath.
You shouldn't go anywhere without a spare pair of glasses.
We can't your prescription made the same day.
You'll have to have a weaker pair.
That'll be three hundred euros purleees.
Come back at seven this evening.

So I handed over the cash we left.

My brother told me that he wanted to go back to the room. Apparently you can't listen to music if you can't see. So back we went. And after a bite to eat figured I should go and see some music.

On the main stage was Mark Jones dressed in a huge pink afro wig, he played mostly crowd pleasers and party tunes much to the enjoyment of the crowd prancing around. After a bit of this and that and a lot of wandering and a few beers I caught Dorian Concept in the tent who was really rather good, bleep core! I got chatting to a group from London and discussed how gorgeous Barcelona's dustbin ladies where, dirty I guess, he. I think most of my afternoon was spent in a lying down position watching girls wiggle their pert behinds, I can think of worse ways to waste time.

I figured it was probably time to go grab Edward and go and get his glasses and had no interest in seeing La Roux whatsoever. The service was pretty good and both opticians rather tasty too and I was pretty relieved when the spectacles were ready to collect when we arrived. Hopefully we can claim them on the travel insurance...

We went back to Sonar in time to not see a great deal, I had wanted to see Bass Clef but just missed him, we danced around one of the stages to some Spanish DJ who was 100% house. Overall the music that day had been a little indifferent. Time for beers and food and babyfoot.

The night flashed by, I remember walking in and seeing Grace Jones a-wailing, then walking over to see Little Boots, then dancing Mary Anne Hobbs and briefly disco dancing to James Murphy. But then I don't remember anything for about three hours other than getting really really really tired. Then at about five in the morning getting a second wind after talking to some chaps from Scotland. I vaguely recall dancing a little to Richie Hawtin before he finished and hmmmm racing around in a bumper car while Erol Alkan was doing his thing. Then it started raining, I remember my brother wanted to see Don Rimini but he was rubbish.

Then it was home time and amazingly we had no difficulty getting a bus home despite scuffles in other queues.

Sonar 2009 - Day 3 - Geniunely Ill

Started off the morning at a leisurely pace by catching the funicular up Montjuic walking down through some of the gardens, up to the Olympic Stadium and back down towards the MNAC and Mies Van de Rohe Pavillo before back to the hostel for some brunch.

All well and good. So we head off to Sonar and my brother lasts one song of the first act we see. Great. "I feel sick" says he.
"well you shouldn't really have stayed out til five in the morning on the piss when you knew you had things to do next morning". "I'm not hungover, I felt like this yesterday" he whines. "Yeah well you were quite pissed the night before as well" I think but don't say aloud. "I'm hot, I need to go to sleep".

So we walk back to the hostel, I follow him just in case he is "genuinely" ill and he goes to bed. Time to start again. I get back to the festival site just in time for Jeff Mills' jumpity bumpity old skool hip hop set, I can't remember the last time I heard Doug E Fresh, a most entertaining set but after an hour of bouncing around I was in need of some liquid refreshment and I took myself off to the VIP area to cool down.

I got chatting to guy called Darko who put parties both illegal and legal on around london, he told me that people didn't want to go clubbing anymore and parties needed that extra something about them, parties on roof tops, caves, churches were always full but clubs nah you couldn't rely on them. Told me that everyone in the game was out to fuck you over and I was lucky to have be working with a brother, he wished that his wasn't so straight.

I made my excuses and headed off to watch some more stuff, I caught d'J'w who seemed a pretty decent DJ, then over to see Luomo and Jake Shears.

It was time I thought to call my brother a) to make sure that his "geniune" illness wasn't geniune and b) to wake him up. He arrived about thirty minutes later with a bottle of cava - so much for being ill.

We waited for Konono No.1 where we bumped into Mauricio who we had met the previous summer in Rome, small world. Konono No.1 were hot and bouncy and sticky and cool and very African. My brother sloped off. We then jumped from stage to stage watching bits and bobs of everything and nothing. After an hour of this I decided I was pretty hungry and it was time to head back to the hostel where the evening reverted to that of the previous type.

Somehow we again found ourselves in the same bar as before and again we discovered Magnus and again this time he was very drunk and again he insulted me however this time I did not ignore him and pointed out that only a moron would walk around in Barcelona's Raval barrio in his state, without company, passport and money hanging out, turning into dark streets with groups of men lurking in alleyways. I then used the greek terms that he had been using with me. This he did not like and stormed out of the bar.

He returned ten minutes later to tell me that he did not like being insulted and told that he was a fool. And he liked even less that I turned my back on him in order to talk someone else. After no response from me he then went up to my brother and told him what a dangerous man he was. The man was a fool.

After the bar shut there was a decision to go to a club, but after much waiting around and some kind of an argument between two girls from the USA and some blokes from Warrington I figured that I didn't particularly like company and decided to use the free tickets I had been given for the Nitsa opening party, bad move.

We walked in. The music was good. We had a drink. And then my brothers glasses flew across the room after an accidental knock. I enlisted the help of some spanish people but no one could find them. My brother can't see. We head home. Game over.

Sonar 2009 - Day Two - And a Fairly Lazy One Too.

I woke up with that taste that only comes with stale Estrella lager, I feel that there is nothing so bad as it, this was mixed with the lovely feeling you get when you requre around a barrel of water to quench your thirst. I wouldn't have minded having this feeling had I drunk an exceptionally large quantity of beer the night before but I hadn't and had mostly stuck to Spanish quarter litre glasses.

After a fairly lazy morning around the hostel I dragged my brother to Park Guell to ensure that he had at least seen one cultural sight and we followed this with more laziness by spending the afternoon on the beach. The evening following a similar pattern to the previous one. Food, roof terrace and bar hopping.

We again finished in the same bar as the previous night (it was on the route back to the hostel). I discussed Sonar with a pretty American barmaid who was visiting on the Saturday night and met a nice group Irish lads who had come for the Sonar fringe parties but not for the festival itself and supped on a few beers.

Again I wasn't up for the big drinking session as I knew what was about to come. My brother on the other hand decided that he was going to stay out and "Get more BOOZE!" as he put it. Leaving Magnus-in-training I trundled off to bed.

Sonar 2009 - Day One - Arrival

We arrived in spain to be greeted by a warm but cloudy day, I was wearing a jumper and a lost spanish girl assumed that I was a local I attempted to help her but my accent must be truly dreadful and she walked off looking more bemused than she did before.

The Aerobus machine didn't work,the driver didn't want to let us on with change and thrust his hand out and drove off so instead we caught a train and metro to our destination instead. On arrival the receptionist had locked himself out of the hostel and we had to hang around until a nice help young lady opened the door for us. Our room was reasonably OK and had nice secure lockers to bung everything in negating the need to carry around things that could be annoying if lost.

My brother immediately wanted to hit a bar, I probably should have let him and taught him that it doesn't pay to be a drunken englishman before in Barca before the Catalans had even finished work. I didn't need to however as this was graphically displayed some time later.

We meandered through the streets of the old town and walked down to the harbour which was looking pretty dirty unfortunately. We then stopped at a cafe and drank a caña before grabbing some food to prepare from the supermarket.

The hostel we stayed in had a nice but small roof terrace which overlooked the city and mountain, it would have been relaxing if not for the constant drone of the air conditioning fans surrounding us. Regardless it was still a pleasant place to have a beer and watch the sunset.

We were joined on the roof by a Dane called Magnus, he swayed, he slurred and he staggered about, he told us that he had been in the pub all afternoon drinking and had drunk at least 20 pints of lager. He was a little annoying but left us after discovering that we did not own a lighter for his cigarette.

Bar hopping was the course of the evening, I don't remember now where we visited, mostly haunts from previous trips to the city, I was in no mind for a raging beer session given that it was only Tuesday but my brother I fear would have gotten as drunken as Magnus with whom we met up with in our final ale house.

Magnus by this time could now not stand up and was slumped against a bar stool holding himself up by sheer will at the bar. He kept dropping his wallet, passport and money. Everytime I returned them to me he would call me me something derogatory in one of the various languages that he spoke, mostly in Greek I am told. He thanked me for buying him a drink even though I had handed him his glass of water. I tried to tell him to go home but all he kept saying was that he wanted some whizz up his nose.

After half an hour of this the barman decided it was time he left. We found out the following day that he had walked around the corner and was robbed, then again on the following corner and once more as he circled back towards the hostel, losing his money, driving licence, mobile phone, credit cards and passport. I think Magnus is a fine example of why an Englishman (or a Dane or anyone else) should not start drinking in Barcelona until way after the locals have left the office.

I have never experienced time like this.

I think that this might quite possibly be the slowest week that I've ever had at work and its not yet finished...I've knocked off early four out of four days so far but that's not made the slightest bit of difference, every minute feels like ten. I really want it to be finished.

Staying in tonight, need a decent kip, Monday night I started playing Fallout 3 on my xbox, the next minute it was about 2.45 in the morning, it took me at least another two hours to get to sleep. Tuesday was comedy night at the British Oak and while I don't feel that I had particularly overindulged I felt thoroughly rubbish come Wednesday morning. Last night I met Paul, Phil and Dave in the Country Girl and even though I definately didn't over indulge when I got home I sat listening to Spiritualized and became quite morose and couldn't drag myself up to bed. Needless to say I am feeling a little bit knackered.

Anyway sat at this desk bored out of my tiny mind really isn't helping the situation. I might bog off early again but cackling witches are here..

Happy Happy Joy Joy.

The soundtrack to my day has been Badmarsh and Shri, Bonobo, Badly Drawn Boy, Underworld, Matthew Dear (as Audion) and Boys Noize

Can I blog from my phone?

Or do I twit?

Devon

Last week was spent mostly on the beach in the many places of Torbay in what according to the taxi driver on the way to the train station was the best weather they'd had in that area for three years. It was mostly gorgeous and I didn't do a great deal.

It took just over a day at work to feel like I'd never had a break...great eh?

Not that that's too much of problem I've only got three and a half (possibly two and half if I take Monday off) before I head off to Sonar for the fourth time.

Jobs

There's a new job cum promotion type opportunity come up here at work but I don't know if I should apply for it or not, It'd be more money but would it cover the on call payments I get already?? It potentially could be a move to a shitty talking to suppliers configuration type role which would bore the living brains out of me and would give me less of an opportunity to put into practice the new skiving techniques that I have learn't over the weekend...then again it could be good and show that I am looking to progress my career...but I'm not sure it that is true....ho.hum.what to do eh?

Bad Karma

I just ran off from the deaf lad because nobody else wanted to go for a beer and I know that he would have just gotten on my nerves. This is bad karma and I guess that I will receive my retribution soon enough.

This weekend I intend to do as little as is humanly possible...generally my life never seems to work out like this though.

Bed.

Its 2 a.m. and I really should go to bed but that just means I'll get the double horror of having shitty dreams and the perceived feeling that I getting to my shitty place of work a lot quicker. And this was a long weekend too. Fucking great.

Tits, I've just realised I haven't washed any clothes for work...and what with this non-gender specific smart attire dress code that has been implemented just what will I be allowed to get away with? I think I have some tweed pedal pushers and a dandy-like frilly shirt somewhere.

I don't think that I shall be dropping beats or anything ever again, I know that I'm not the only 33 year old clubber but after Saturday night I'm reckoning that I am the only one who looks and feels less healthy than a 63 year old clubber...chest pains from overdoing it and my inhaler is nowhere to be seen fuck shit arse! I think I am becoming some kind of hypochondrical nut case!

I wonder if I'll have more than thirty seconds of real work and less than four and a half hours of watching a bar go back and forwards across a super large monitor later today?

Bed I guess, I'm just stalling now...

Tired.

No posts in a while...some updates...I got ill and had three weeks off work, I felt like somebody was trying to drill through my head...I was taking some strong pain killers and they'd work for about an hour and then I'd have three hours of constant pain. I went to the doctors who gave me a blood test, two weeks later the results came back and instead of mentioning anything to do with my extreme pain he decided to give me a lecture about my drinking. Luckily the pain subsided on its own.

I went back to work only to find myself being shoved back downstairs with everybody else, bummer, I'd quite taken to having my own office....I'm still shit at my job, I can't be bothered half the time, it bores the living daylights out of me...I got an extra five days holiday this year...meaning that I can have six an a half weeks out of the office...I hope I'm not a lifer.

I've been told that I've got to go to court as an expert witness, no forewarning, nothing, I've got a trip to Benicassim booked and have told them that I can't attend, I could still get a summons forcing me to go. Hopefully not. Hopefully I won't have to go full stop.

I seem to have been out an awful lot these last few weeks, nowhere special, just out. Last night was quite fun. It was Louise's 40th and there were lots of persons out...the beer certainly did flow...my recollection of the night becomes a little hazy after about ten. I had a bit of difficulty explaining to the rather annoyed taxi driver..ha ha..

My mood on Sundays are always a little maudlin, I never seem to do a great deal with them these days. Felt like more of a waste than ever today, I was in bed most of the day and the sunshine was glorious. Ah well.

Back to work tomorrow oh joy!

Told Off

I had the feedback from my Naughty Boy meeting, I have apparently six weeks to show and improvement on my timekeeping and there will be no further action, failure to comply will mean that I will be subject to disciplinary proceedings. I was on time this morning....tomorrow however is another struggle all together.

Greezy Keeebab

I've just had a very greasy kebab, washed down with lovely coca cola, don't think this dieting is going to well....it is so fucking cold in my house tonight it is stupid, the fire is on full and I am considering wearing my coat...brrrr...

Naughty Boy...

I've been a very naughty boy and my behaviour unacceptable. I had a meeting today to discuss this with my boss and a personnel person, it must be serious?

Is there any underlying reason for your lateness, is there anything that we can do to help.
Well, my body rhythms are set so that I am wide awake between 1 and 3 in the morning. Which means that I am struggling to get up at eight.
Are you not sleeping because you are concerned about something?
No its not like that, I don't think you understand, its not that i can't sleep its that I'm not ready to sleep till three or later in the morning. There would be no point in me going to bed earlier as would just be lying in bed awake.
Have you thought about going to the GP and getting some sleeping pills?
Again I don't think you understand, drugs are not the answer, they would just knock me out in the period where I am normally awake but my body would still be telling me to stay asleep when you want me to wake up.
We are going to have to set some targets and we will need to see some improvement in your timekeeping.
OK.
You've said that before.
I know.
Well will you take heed of this?
Well obviously I understand the seriousness of this and can only say I will attempt to.


However what I really wanted to say was:

Is there any underlying reason for your lateness?
Yes, I haven't had a pay increment in three years and I'm bored with shitty reasons you give for me for not giving me one, regardless of what work I achieve you think I am crap and for some fucking reason act suprised when other people praise my output so is it any fucking wonder i don't want to jump out of bed and get my arse into the office on time? But the best reason at all is that my lateness pisses off the anal retentive office troll!

Cities.

Barcelona, she is an abusive partner, she beats me regularly, I am exhausted by her now but know I am destined to return for more punishment, I love her and I can't leave her alone no matter how bad she treats me. And I know that I she will never truly leave my heart.

Perhaps it is the fiery woman that I need so that my wits are tested. Valencia is the quiet pretty girl that wouldn't keep my attention and given the chance would probably stray into the arms of another. Madrid, is plain, she tries to keep my attention, provides me with everything that I want and everything need but there is something lacking but what i know not. Zaragoza is the party girl with whom I would pretend to throw caution to the wind but behind the bravado I am a little afraid of her. San Sebastian, marry rich, but you know that would never happen...

Ah.

However it is all a pointless I am here with Birmingham, she is grey, her heart feels like granite and all my affection for her went many years before, I am stuck. Perhaps I should be unfaithful.

We went to Barcelona.

Thursday - Paul and Kerri nearly miss flights. We faff around in a cafe for most of the afternoon instead of going straight to apartment. Kerri, Rob, Caroline and Sonal nearly don't get to see the Kaiser Chiefs whilst Paul tries to smash his head through a glass table and the Other Rob, Joe and I drink beer and sangria in the flat and watch Spanish football.

Friday - We procrastinate and don't leave the flat til sometime in the afternoon. We wonder around aimlessly until someone complains of being hungry, we walk past a number of restaurants eventually settling on some rather nice tapas. We freeze outside a pretty naff cafe. Instead of going out for food we sit and wait and wait and wait and wait for Paul and Sonal to cook pasta. Finally around midnight Paul, Caroline, Joe and the Other Rob leave the flat and go to the quietest bar in the world. I drag everyone to the much better Manchester Bar. The Other Rob and I stay in the Bar till closing and then head to The Tequila Bar and drink beer. On the way home we get propositioned/pickpocketed by two prostitutes.

Saturday - We procrastinate and don't leave the flat til sometime in the afternoon. We don't wander around aimlessly looking for food because someone looked in a guide book and decided which restaurant we were going to. My starter was very nice. Smoked Salmon on Toast with Caviar. My main, Turtledove, Song Thrush and Wild Rabbit with Rice was so-so a bit too oily. My desert, coconut ice cream with fruit of the forest sauce was delicious. Kerri wouldn't split the bill. We have argument. We walk probably less than one hundred and fifty yards to a bodega, we drink wine. I become a little stir crazy and in need of some air. I leave everybody in the wine bar and I stroll along the beach in the pouring rain. An hour or two later I return to the bodega and find that nobody had moved except Paul who had returned to the flat to feed and water baby. More wine. We leave about nine and after some walking in the rain settle in "The Sports Bar" we drink beer. I drink BIG beer. We have discussion about whether or not Rob is god, Caroline and I think not. Kerri claims she was neglected, has hissy fit and storms off home. We return via "Wok to Walk" and eat big noodley type food. People start watching boring DVDs and Joe and I go to the London Bar, Joe drinks the gayest margherita ever, I drink Cuba Libre. Joe leaves about half three, I carry on to Nitsa at the Sala Apollo and see Sascha Funke and many many beatiful women. I get ripped off buying a sandwich from street hawker. I arrive home around seven, shower and go to sleep.

Sunday - I get rudely awoken by Joe telling me that he is going to the Maritime Museum. I arrange to meet him later. He does not arrive. I walk to the MNAC it is shut. I look at views of Barcelona. I return to the flat. Joe arrive shortly after and we watch DVDs whilst drinking Sangria. The others return home. We then have argument about eating in or out. I eat out with Rob, Caroline and Joe. Food not great, martini however very nice. We return to the flat to a frosty reception and get told off for making noise. We drink more sangria and eventually it is decided that we should go out to a bar. A Serbian girl drags into a pretty poor backpacker type bar full of americans watching the Superbowl. We leave and suffer an attempted mugging, we walk ten yards further and it happens again by another group. We nip into the nearest bar. But only manage to get one pint before being turfed back out onto the streets and another mugging attempt. Then home....

Sunday - Luckily the Other Rob wakes me and I get dressed and go to the airport. I feel a bit shitty all day. I get off airplane, it is snowing very heavily. I get questioned by customs officers and they search my bag. I have no problems getting home. I eat pizza and curse the fact that I haven't won the lottery and will have to return to work following day.

Cold

It's blummin' freezing in my house.

Brrrr.