Robbie's getting married

That's right, married. Blimey! The sly fox had kept it under his hat since back in the summertime. He's asked Rachel up a hill in the Peak District, back on their anniversary in July, maybe August. I was full of questions: where? when? In Heron House, as it happens, and during the middle of December too. Heron House, then the Midland Hotel, the Christmas markets, and Sam's Chop House for food. Grand!

What struck me was the quick turnaround between proposal and the big day. Consider the others: Ange and Lewis, two years; Durex and Whelan, eighteen months; Guardi and Vicky, eighteen months; Whitehouse and Flora, eighteen months; John and Zoe, fifteen months; Col and Jane, at least a year; Robbie and Rachel, five months. Wow!

I wonder who's next. Ollie and Zoe? Chubb and Steve?

Hoggest Roast

The original plan for the Five Seven Christmas do was to take a light stroll around Dunham Massey, then head to the pub. Bad weather and twisted limbs saw the plan modified: a hog roast at Oddest.

Chubb, Steve, Woody, Max, Zoe and I – a great mix, and a good size for a single conversation. After all of the ballyhoo about where we were going to go, it was odd that Ollie and Wallis weren’t there; they’d been at each other’s throats over email about the arrangements, and then neither surfaced. So it goes, I guess.

We caught up. Max is back from London, and he’s qualified as a surveyor. He’s in the market for a move to Chorlton, which is an interesting step considering that he’s been cohabiting with Wallis since I’ve known them. A good sign, I’d say, for both of them. Independent friendship groups are good for a couple.

We laughed. I haven’t laughed as much for a very long time. My stomach hurt because we laughed so much. My face hurt because of the jollity. Marvellous stuff.

“Which one,” asked Woody, “did you send flowers to?” I pointed Nic out to him. He grinned at me. I grinned too.

Bridges

I burn more bridges than I build. Like that DeLorean, a trail of flames often follows me. Unlike that DeLorean, I can't travel backwards in time to make amends.

Last night, at the death of Chubb and Steve's party, I answered the door, and found myself looking at to a once-familiar face. Suze. My old flatmate Paul's old girlfriend. Things hadn't ended nicely - things rarely do, I've found - and I hadn't spoken to her for years. Two years. The last time I saw her was, I think, in Starbucks on Oxford Road. I smiled at her, "Come in!"

There was a time when I saw Suze every day. She was a regular feature of the house on Parsonage Road as things there drew to an end, and the flat by the Bridge Club when things there started out. And then, when things with her and Paul drew to an end, I became increasingly hostile to her. She was, I thought then, treating him badly.

A lot has changed since then. Assuming good faith has helped me handle behaviour I don't fully understand in a more balanced and even way. But somehow Suze had slipped through the net of my zen. Somehow my stubbornness, my affinity for grudge-holding, meant she was stilled filed under *shit* in my mind. My fault.

It was nice to see her. I gave a shit about what she was up to, what she had to say. I tried to show her that I was past all that guff. I don't know what she thought about it.

I burn more briges than I build. But I tried to build last night. I tried.

"Who smokes crack on a Saturday lunchtime?"

We cycled past two men smoking crack.

"Who smokes crack on a Saturday lunchtime?" I asked Chubb.

"Drug addicts?"

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!

Remember that I'm still inside, but I'm dry, I'm dry…

My planned evening of peppermint tea and Batman didn't quite work out as I'd planned. Pippa was just back from her holiday, did I want to meet her for a drink? Antibiotics my foot, I thought, yes I do! Even if my drink is going to be alcohol-free! We went to Oddest, and got some food. It was still really busy, even on day two. We had a mexicana combination platter, which was ace. Once Kate finished work, she joined us, and Dunk soon followed. Pip's holiday sounds like it was amazing, especially the water park. As the bar busied up, ZBox and Chubb came in. "We're meeting Steph!" said Chub with a wink. Zbox and Ollie think I should pull Steph - we'd talked about it last week. I wonder if she likes me. The chance arises, and I'm not drinking - bah! Oh well, so it goes. Steph arrived, looking hot.

Shortly Paul, Louise and David showed up. Pippa, can you talk to Louise about Spain? Paul, can you talk to Dunk about Germany? Thanks! Wow, it's easy to introduce people to common conversation topics when you're stone cold sober and they're a little drunk! Is there a career in that? Probably not. In come David III, Amanda and Ruth. I tiptoed down the smalltalk tightrope with Ruth, who I don't know that well - in as much as I was talking to her about appropriate conversation topics for the hairdresser. If I'd overbalanced, it would have been clear that I was putting my smalltalk tips into practice there and then. Luckily, I had my sobriety to act as a balance bar and keep me stable. Phew! A little excursion over to Steph, Chubb and ZBox, a little bit of chit-chat, and then back. Sobriety is exhausting because you get bored much more quickly than if you're drunk. Especially when it comes to talking to drunks.

On my way home, I ran into Sam outside the Marble. She was wearing a red scarf on her shoulders, and was rather drunk. We're going for a beer on Tuesday night. That's payday eve, I thought, but this dry weekend will save me a bomb. As I passed by Fox Plaza, I found myself thinking that I'd had a really good night. And not a drop of booze. Hmmmm. Could I get used to this?

Mock mock

A morning of revision was broken up by a brief turn out to Clare's for an hour at her barbecue. Woody and Clare, Ollie and Z-Box, Chubb and Steve, Max and Wallis, and Paul were there. I hadn't seen anybody in ages - studies before buddies, right? - and I was a little overwhelmed to be faced with so many all at once. Only Milney was missing from five-seven. What a sweltering day. It wasn't easy to tear myself away, but I did, and pedalled off home.

My mock mock exam went pretty well. I wrote about sampling, and about evaluating a research proposal. Checking through the model answers was reassuring. I think I'll do okay tomorrow in my real mock.

Cycle killer, qu'est-ce c'est?

Study, Study, Study, Run, Drink, Dance

The early night set me up for a productive day. Three and a half hours of studying in the morning, charity shop shopping over lunch, then another three hours of reading in the afternoon. I feel happy and concerned about the course at the same time. Happy, in that I’m really enjoying learning something new, and concerned in that my exam is only nine weeks away and there’s still a bucketful to learn before even starting revision. In great news, my search of Oxfam Books turned out a textbook that fits around my course very neatly. In other news, I’ve ordered the proper one from Waterstones anyway.

After the study-a-thon, I stepped out for a quick 10k run.



Quick? 52.03. Which is a 5 min12 km, or an 8 min 24 mile. It felt really good all the way round.

Dunk, Kate, Megan, Ryan and I went to Odder for Chubb’s birthday. Craig and the whole of Fordbank were there, along with all of Fiveseven and a handful of other friends and relations. I was the sole representative of Parsonage. So it goes.

I had an amazing night. It was really good to catch up with Craig – who wants to race the boats again! – to ask Rich and Fran about their honeymoon – Safari in Kenya! – to speak to Max and Wallis about Max’s work strife, and how Wallis feels about it – he’s being forced to move to London – and to see the Cook and Woody rendition of Roots Manuva’s ‘Witness.’ We stayed at the bar until it closed, and then five-starred our way into Mojo, leaping past the front of the queue and up the stairs. Kate is very well connected! Yeehaw!!!

Company Along The Mile

It's a play about a transvestite? Or it's a play where a man plays a woman, but we are supposed to think it's a woman in the fictional world? Or... either way, it was hilarious, tragic, moving, dramatic.

We're getting old. Friday night in the Northern Quarter, and it was too loud. "Let's go to Fuel, it's not quite as thumping there." And then to Indigo.

My birthday, the evening

Liz and I went for a couple of pints in Dulcimer, then swung past the curry house on the way to my house. She gave me an Obama stencil, great stuff! We set out the table, and got ready to welcome the guests for the evening. Cranium kicks ass for group fun. The teams were: Me, Pippa, and Bruce; Liz, Steve and Milner; and, Chubb, Kate, Becky and Ryan.

We ate a curry and played Cranium. Ryan's performance of "Bowl a Maiden Over" will be the talk of the town for years, I think. His team won. My team didn't. But I won. It was my birthday, after all, so I controlled the stereo. At one point I was smoking, and from down the corridor, I heard my friends singing along to Meat Loaf. Have I ever been happier? No.