Test and spite

Today I was faced with a test of my resolve. I was presented with an opportunity to do nothing, which would have been the correct and strong option, or to do something, which was the wrong and weak option. I did something. I failed.

I was furious. I wanted to send Arnie back in time to kill my mum before I was born, such was my shame. Out of anger at my own weakness, I texted the girl from across the park and told her that I didn't want to see her again. Out of anger, and out of spite. I didn't feel better for long. But I did feel better.

Shelf-ish cnut

My terrible long meeting today, and the dread it filled me with, were washed away when I saw this picture.



It's from Gizmondo, and from Pervy. Thanks both.

I will be your Ferdinand and you my wayward girl

Hungover, dazed, tired, I schlepped to West Didsbury to say goodbye to Helen before she moves to London. She leaves next week. It all came round quite quickly, but with her new high-flying job, and her lover in the south, it was bound to happen. I'll miss her.

I made it home for about 9.30. Kate was waiting for Spielberg's Munich to start. Dunk was back unexpectedly early from his travels, looking brown and rested. We chatted.

KATE: So Dunk, we did the quiz at Oddest last week, and guess what the theme was?
DAVE: Err...
DUNK: Was it Arnie? Dave texted me.
KATE: Dave!
DAVE: Sorry.
DUNK: Guess who I saw in Monte Carlo?
KATE AND DAVE: Arnie!?!
DUNK: Rio Ferdinand

I don't like cricket...

...not enough to endure the battering that was day one of the fourth test. instead Woody, Ollie and I sat drinking beers in the sunshine and shooting the shit. We talked about Ben's wedding, about Bettsy's big day, about losing friends over time, about the Butt Slut backstory. We ate spag bol and listened as the Test seemed to end before it had even got started.

For all their machismo, it was very sweet to listen to Ollie and Tom describe the first time that they told their girlfriends, "I love you." Bless em!

By not paying her.

Odd day. I felt on a massive downer for most of it, and I’m not sure why. Hormones maybe? Do men get moods based on hormones? Probably. I met Tracy for lunch, and was a bit quiet. She mentioned it, and I said that nothing was wrong. Nothing was, really, nothing specific anyway. Nothing I could put my finger on.

In the afternoon, I checked out Ben’s wedding website. I’ve not been invited. Until now, I’d thought that was because the wedding was a long way off. Turns out I was wrong, it’s in four weeks. Guess I’m not on the list. So it goes. Lewis called as I was trying to find a present for Emma. He told me not to worry about the wedding invite. I wasn’t worried, just surprised. We talked about how strange it is that Ben’s getting married in the church that held my friend Sam’s funeral back in 2000. It’s a beautiful place.



I wasn’t looking forward to birthday drinks at Emma’s, mostly because of my foul mood. A quick solo pint loosened me up, I hoped, and I trudged around the corner. Misty made me laugh. He’s such a decent bloke. Lorraine, back from Australia, barely said a word to me all evening. I wasn’t asking her many questions either. So it goes.

I felt a bit teary in the cab. Hormones? Yes, I think so.

The Green Man party line-up

looks like this:

Dunk
Kate
Ryan
Miriam
Culture Thom
Ali Danesh
Ed Chemical?
Paul Collins + some
Saxaphone Kate
Nic from Oddest + some
Sionedd + some

…and I think there are a couple of bands on too.

The Economist. More than just economics.

Pervy