SWANAGE
Swanage. Famous for giving the world Basil Fawlty. OK, that was John Cleese, who himself incidentally came from another seaside town, Weston Super Mare. No, we are told in one episode of Fawlty Towers that “Mr. Faulty” comes from Swanage (not Barcelona). I digress.
“Why are you going on about Swanage?” I hear you all ask. Well, there is a reason for it. On Tuesday, I went to the Dorset town with John and Simon. I have been meaning to go to Swanage for a long time. Since I was a young child. When I was 10, I moved from Bristol to Bath. Everyone in my new class in Bath was going away for a week to Swanage. However, having moved from Brizzle midway through the school year, I missed the chance to go.
I was gutted. I say that, I wasn’t really. As I remember, I took the week off anyway and stayed at home playing video games. I think I remember that I completed Sonic 2 and got all the Chaos Emeralds, so time well spent! Despite all this, I always promised myself I would go there one day. I know that sounds a bit sad and pathetic. Many people aim to visit the pyramids of the Great Wall of China. Not me – a trip to the Dorset coast will suffice.
So what’s there to do in Swanage? As it pissed it down for the vast majority of the day, there wasn’t a lot. A lot of time and indeed money was spent on the 2p machines in the amusement arcades. We tried our hand at crab fishing. Nothing was caught, although various jokes about sexual transmitted diseases were made (crabs – geddit?). We also ate ice cream in the pouring rain which felt very English, before going home via Nandos. In case you were wondering, Swanage doesn’t have a Nandos. The closest it has is a Wimpy, which we also went to.
GOING CRACKERS
I am tempted to give up work, spy on members of the public and write about what strange things they do. David Attenborough does it with animals, so why can’t I do it with people? They do loads of strange stuff. Take for example Monday. While waiting for a lift to football, I saw an overweight, middle-aged woman run across the road. She nearly got run over by various cars. She then ran/waddled into the newsagents, only to emerge a few minutes later, clutching a packet of cheese crackers in her chubby fist. She then proceeded to open the packet, devouring its contents. While doing so, she wandered out into the road, yet again nearly being killed by cars, before walking up a side street – in the middle of the road! A car then drove up behind her. The woman, more interested in her snack than safety, refused to move out of the way for the vehicle, which had to sound it’s horn. This enraged the beast, went on to wave a fist and shout profanities at the driver, spitting crumbs of biscuit from her mouth.
What was most disturbing about this entire story is that after eating her fill of biscuits, she entered a car of her own and drove off. I stepped back from the pavement and hid behind the safety of a wall.
BISHOP’S CLEEVE
It seems preseason football friendlies are being played even earlier with each season. The way things are going, I wouldn’t be surprised to see the first friendly played before the previous season has even finished.
On Monday night, with spring barely over, I travelled to Bishop’s Cleeve for the first game of the 2011/12 Football Season. I last visited Kayte Lane two seasons ago when City played, and beat, Bish’ in the FA Cup.
Needless to say, the friendly was less exciting than the FA Cup game. City lost the game 3-2. Luckily the result was meaningless, unlike the FA Cup match of 2009.
It’s still well over a month until real, competitive football starts again; but until then, I will no doubt keep myself entertained with some of the other friendlies served up. Friday evening is Bristol Rovers at home. A tad more prestige than Bishop’s Cleeve. But only just.
In other football news, Bath City’s fixtures were released yesterday. Not a great deal to say about them at the moment apart from one thing… Barrow away on a Tuesday night in March? WHAT. THE. FUCK?
EATING OUT
John came round on Friday. We were planning on going to Nandos, but upon getting there, people were queuing out of the restaurant door. Not wanting to wait hours and end up having Peri Peri chicken for our breakfast, we decided to drive out of town to The George pub in Bathampton. The meal was nice.
While eating, I overheared a woman, who must have been at least 25 stone, tell her husband “I’ve just been told they’ve sold out of the salad. I’ve had to order the Mixed Grill instead”. I’m sure that must have been gutting for the greedy cow.
POSH COFFEE
I couldn’t help but notice those TV ads doing the rounds for Kenco Millicano coffee. You’ve probably seen them yourself. The one where some mother walks into her son’s school and takes away the coffee he has brought in for a harvest festival and gives him a tin of mouldy old peaches. I think another ad shows a couple about to have sex on the kitchen, but immediately stop after knocking over a packet of the coffee. If only Imogen Thomas had smashed a coffee jar during her night with Ryan Giggs, it would have saved no end of problems.
I’ve got a coffee machine in my flat, but also drink coffee in work. The instant coffee I drink there doesn’t come close to the real stuff, so Kenco’s promise of “instant real coffee” was appealing. I bought a packet and after sampling, I have to admit, I am impressed. It doesn’t share the quality of freshly made coffee, of that I am not surprised. However, it is by far the best instant coffee I have tasted. I’ll be bouncing off the walls when I return to work on Tuesday.
THE CHAMPIONS LEAGUE
Last nights Champions League final was most delightful. Not only because I am a Barca fan (well, they’re my “foreign” team), but because they beat Manchester United. Barca didn’t just beat ManU, they destroyed them. If the performance could have been foreseen, ITV would have had to issue a warning pre-match that the upcoming programme contains frequent scenes of rape.
This isn’t me having a go at Manchester United (although, it was funny). They were simply outclassed. Barca were simply a joy to watch and gave everyone a lesson in football – most notably Fergie and his boys.
I know this blog will result in a barrage of comments from bitter Man Utd fans (anything anti-ManU usually does). Let me say this in advance – it’s football, get over yourselves. People support and like different teams. I know this may be hard to believe, seeing as I live in Somerset, but I dislike your team. Any comments will be marked as spam, unless they amuse me and I’ll approve them, simply for the purpose of ridicule.
After a busy few months at work, I now have a much welcomed week off.
A visit to Nandos with friends tonight followed by a Bath City away game tomorrow with Claire seems a great way to start my break.
BRISTOL
On Sunday evening, John, Simon, his mate Tim and I went to Bristol. We had bought tickets way back in the summer to see Frankie Boyle live at the Colston Hall. On the way there, we stopped to get something to eat at Nandos in Longwell Green.
After eating our fill of chicken, we began our trip deep into Bristol. Even before we had got to the car park, we knew things weren’t right. A young child stood alone by himself and emptied the entire contents of an oversized water pistol into a cash machine kiosk, while either his parents or passers by stood and laughed… to be fair, we did the same.
A short drive from the trainee bank robber, took us to Trenchard Street, directly opposite the Colston Hall. With lots of time to kill before Frankie Boyle started his act, we decided to look for somewhere to drink. We looked at the Colston Hall bar, but were put off by the customers handing over £50 notes for a few drinks and not receiving any change… very expensive. Had I wanted to be robbed in the middle of the day, I would have got my iPhone out in front of the dodgy looking gang in the street.
Despite spending many of my early years living in Bristol, I do not know my way around the city, especially when it comes to pubs – to be fair, I moved to Bath when I was 10, so was far too young to drink, even by Bristolian’s standards.
Tim led us to a nice looking place dubbed ‘the oldest pub in Bristol’. I say ‘nice looking’; it looked good from the outside. Once we walked in, I realised we had made a mistake. It was a rough, biker’s pub. There may well have been blood, vomit and teeth on the floor – I didn’t check. What I did notice was what looked like a crack addict stoned out his mind in a chair. I was scared and almost soiled myself.
We drank outside in the beer garden. It wasn’t exactly a beer garden. More like a patio surrounded by tall, spiked fencing. I felt like an animal at Bristol Zoo. It was unclear if the fence was to keep those on the streets out of the pub or those in the pub off the streets.
I quickly drank my Thatcher’s cider (the one blessing of the horrible establishment) before running through the pub at great speed.
By the time we had escaped and made our way back to the relative safety of the Colston Hall, it was almost time for Frankie…
FRANKIE BOYLE
Frankie Boyle’s tour is called I Would Happily Punch Every One of You in the Face. Given the title, as well as Boyle’s past material and reputation, I expected a show full of controversy and offensive material.
I was not wrong. I will not repeat the jokes on here. Firstly, I do not have the comic skills to deliver them in the manner in which he does. I probably wouldn’t get away with them either and would no doubt be branded a sick and twisted bastard… a bit like Frankie Boyle.
Oh, and yes, he did do THAT joke (which, by the way, I didn’t actually think was that funny and certainly far less offensive than his other stuff).
Overall, an enjoyable evening; but very, very dark, crude and offensive. If you like comedy that pushes the boundaries, not only to the edge, but totally over to the other side; or you simply have a heart of stone and are not offended by anything whatsoever, then this show is for you. Otherwise, stick to the ever so nice, and equally funny, Russell Howard.
Nandos was good. Nothing of interest at the cinema, so it was an early trip home (via Asda to pick up ice cream)
It seems film directors are happy to let James Cameron rake in all the cash for Avatar during 2010 and not bother to make any new movies themselves.
About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
