Mia-owwwwwww!!!

Look what Pervy found!

I come from the land of the ice and snow

We were sent home early from college last night because of snow. I thought that Gerard was being overly cautious. Waking up this morning to five or six inches*, however, has rather changed my mind. I strapped on my boots, and stomped on outside. “There’s no buses,” said the woman at the stop, “I’ve been here since half seven.”

Happy birthday to Lu

As I was walking to the shops to buy some eggs, I texted Lucinda, wishing her a happy birthday . "Oh DTRMCR thank you v much what a memory!" she replied. Several of my friends - Zoe, Jordanna, John M - and acquaintances - Nic, Jon Lyall, Lucinda - share a birthday on this date. And after last year - when Paul, Dunk and I saw Mark Morriss at the museum, then met Lu and Liz and all at Trof - how could I forget? Sometimes I think that having a blog means I'll never forget a significant moment again.

Nostalgia swept over me, and I found myself drifting into the mind of myself a year ago. It's been a period of great change for me.

This time last year I lived with Paul on the West Didsbury side of Withington. Since then I've lived in two different houses in Chorlton, and with five and a half different people. Five and half, because I have three official housemates in Stretford, but I think Dunk should figure in the count too. Ryan replaced Paul in some ways, and not in others. Domestic affairs have had a massive impact on my daily happiness, a fact most demonstrated by how happy I feel now at 106. Living with Kate is brilliant. Big changes. Good changes.

This time last year I was dating Liz, though in hindsight it was quite clearly coming to an end by the now of 2008. Since then we've broken up. Actually we've broken up twice, or three times, depending on how you count things. There was that awful situation in November and December, and the tears we wept afterwards. Beautiful, brave Lizzie. In between, a brief fun month of Stephanie. Over the summer, an ill-advised dalliance with Miss F from work, and the odd handful of flesh and nothingness now and then. Another important factor happiness-wise. Liz was the biggest deal for me romantically since Rigby, and in some ways more so. For example, sometimes it felt like I was dating a woman, rather than a girl. I don't know if I've learned anything about romance in the last year. Muddle on, blind man, beware the ditches out there...

This time last year I had two prominently chipped teeth in the front of my face. Lucinda, the birthday girl, fixed them for me. Looking back at 2009, I think having my teeth repaired will be the main thing that other people remember about my year. Everytime I clean my teeth in the morning I think of, and feel thankful for, Lucinda's amazing generosity and kindness. I feel like my smile works better now, and I'm much more confident about using it. Lessons? Erm...? Use interdental brushes?

This time last year I was starting to hate my job. Despise my job in fact. Lack of purpose was the main cause, and mostly down to the hand that was on the tiller. Since then, things have got worse, and then much worse, and then steadily better. Studying for my Market Research qualification, and the management course I started last month, has kept my mind busy. And my colleagues see what I see too. I feel much more in control of things at this stage than I did this time last year.

Running. That's new too. Cycling. Yup. Owning Batman comic books too. Good new.

My blog was two years old about a week ago. I'd wanted to do a Year Two summary to commemorate it, but I didn't remember the exact date, and ended up missing it. I wonder what Lucinda would think about my memory if she knew.

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.

The Economist. More than just economics.

Pervy

Saint Lucinda of the Busted Tooth...

...came to my house to write me a second prescription for my sore tooth. Amazing. She's got a new car, a little retro sporty number.

After she left, I texted Pervy. Now that Lu has that car (I wrote) his Mini won't get mistaken as belonging to the woman in their relationship. He didn't reply all night. Have I gone too far?

She called to find out if Michael Jackson was really dead.

After the stress of preparing for my exam, my late-ish night on Wednesday and my early start to get to Bolton for my teeth, I was zonked after work. I left at three forty, and dashed home to get ready for a real celebration – dinner with Pippa. It was a beautiful day, so I got into my cargo shorts and walked down the river, my old running route. I’ve not been out since the Wythenshawe Five, and before long I was aching to get my Nikes on and get out again. Soon.

On Burton Road I passed a beautiful girl putting on roller skates. Our eyes met, and I couldn’t help but smile. She said “Hi.” I said “Hi,” back.

Pippa and I met in the garden of the Woodstock and had a couple of pints of cider in the sunshine. She was very excited about her holiday, full of enthusiasm for camping cookers and sleeping bags. It was a whole year of Bruce, we realised. I’ve never seen her happier. We talked about the proposed (imposed?) Moss Side move with work, and I felt a lot better for her positive approach.

“I’ll buy us dinner out, if you like,” she said. Jackpot!

We went to Greens on Lapwing Lane – no anti-cargo short prejudices there – and luckily managed to get a table for two. We started with vegetarian black pudding, which was peppery, and really tasty. What was it made of, I wondered, if not from blood. Pippa had mushroom gnocchi, and I had this awesome Moroccan pumpkin and leek stew with savoury scones, it was divine. I’m so glad that Pippa and Bruce are moving to Chorlton, I don’t see enough of her.

Pip’s house is vast. The style is a bit Brookside, but it’s huge. It’s a shame she lives with a wanker, she says. We watched a bit of telly, and fiddled around with her mp3 player. Later on Emma Jennings called

“Hi Em, how are you? How’s Glastonbury?”
“Is Michael Jackson dead?”

Three or four dots

Lucinda has three or four dots that are slightly darker in the green part of her right eye, to the right of the pupil. This much I know because today I had the third part of my root canal procedure. This much I know because I was tilted back further than I had been before, and couldn't watch the clouds through the skylight window, so I concentrated on her eye instead. It's a tiny detail about her, but I like tiny details.

The procedure was really cool - it involved a blowtorch! I could taste the smoke in my mouth as Lu applied a hot tool to the deep part of the filling. I didn't feel a thing. She re-built my tooth, polished and cleaned it. It looks great, I'm really happy with it.

Part way through, Lu said that Pervy had told her that I'd said on this blog post that the last treatment was really painful. We laughed. Well, I tried to - it isn't easy with a mouth full of cotton wool, articulating paper, "suction please" and someone else's fingers.

Afterwards, I gave Persepolis to Lucinda. I hope she enjoys it as much as I did.

Venn-tal

Via: EatMeDaily.com and Pervy. Thanks both!

Bearemy scaring me

selected highlights of a volley of texts from Lucinda today

Bearemy didn’t play badminton. He got in trouble the other day, called Will a motherfucker. I think the Wire is too old for him! He has started wearing really low jeans and asked for a gun!

He likes the B-I-G notorious – I don’t know if that’s east or west side, I can’t keep up!

Bearemy is on Facebook – he is mightily offended that you called him a teddy. He says you’re a walking timebomb motherfucker. He has a gun you know David!

Don’t come over to the west side after dark – I am scared Bearemy is going to ‘pop a cap in your ass’ – he is pretty wound up!

Cargo Pants / Karma Pants

Back in August, Phil had told me that my cargo pants weren't appropriate for the Lime Tree. I went and got changed. It was funny more than anything else, but on the other hand, I've not forgotten it either. It's not a scarring type memory but... anyway...

After watching the Wales v Ireland game in the rugby, Phil, Pervy, Simon and I went on a little tour of Withington, and then headed into town. It was late. Nowhere was open. We went to the Press Club. Phil tried to convince the doorman that he was a surgeon. No chance. We were about to be turned away, when I showed the doorman my work ID. He looked at it, at me, and said, "Okay. Seven fifty."

"And my friends?" I said, pointing at the other three. "Them too?"

He nodded. We all went in.

Cargo Pants: 1 - Press Club: 1

Happy Perv-Day to you

Hungover and hungry, I slithered out of bed and met Clare. She hadn’t been home from last night’s fancy-dress party, and so was only an overcoat away from a Greek princess. On the way up to Sol’s we talked about how West Didsbury was changing, how everything was changing, and how natural and normal that was. We ate in Sol’s, then wandered out to Ladybarn park, past Parsonage Road. Clare told me about getting locked out on the roof of Woody’s brother’s apartment in New York.

We circled round through the park, past a group of three or four scallies. One of them, fat, red-faced, hoody, waved and said “You’ve got a bike, we’ve gotta hunt them kids,” to his mate. The biker shrugged, looked away. Fat Red waddled to a hedge gap, a lanky mate ten strides behind him. Clare and I chatted on as we watched two good kids, blue jeans, long hair, bomb over Parrs Wood Road and down Parsonage. The scallies followed then out of our sight. Snow began to fall. By the time we made it to the park gate, the scallies had turned back, sulking, hands in pockets. Further on, down a side street, one of the long-hairs looked round a low wall at the retreat. The other called from eight or ten houses down, “Shall I get my dad?”

Alison and I had a cup of tea at Orlando’s. It was barely three in the afternoon, and the couple behind us were very drunk. They argued loudly. The barman had to go over and have a word. It was awkward and distracting. I felt queasy. Would he hit her at home later? I was glad to be out of there.

I pulled on my Stormtrooper t-shirt and went down to the Met to meet Pervy again. I arrived to see him wearing a Darth Vader t-shirt. Phil was there too. Also in a Stormtrooper t-shirt. We looked like the Three Amigos of Geek. I’m not surprised Phil put his jumper on. Pervy seemed quite underwhelmed by his handmade cock and balls birthday card. After too long in the pub, we picked up a curry and headed back to 46 to enjoy it. At one point, Pervy fell over, landed on his arse, giggled and then squeaked. And again. And then once more. Squeaked? Was that a fart? Was that a high-pitched girly fart? Was that real? It was. As he sat on the floor, legs straight out in front of him, Pervy’s eyes watered with laughter. And we laughed and laughed as well.

Day two of a three day binge

The severity of my hangover demanded that I bandage on a fry-up with brutal urgency. I’d braved the mystery of the meat slices at the Chorlton Café before, so I figured I’d opt for the vege breakfast to try it out too. The fried bread was heavy-duty, but otherwise it hit the spot. The rougher the hangover, the rougher the breakfast solution, so they say.



I bumped into Chaw’s friend that I’d watched the football with once or twice on the way home. Unfortunately, I didn’t remember his name.

“Are you watching the United game later on DTRMCR?”
“Erm… yes, I think so..er…mate. Are you?”
“Yes, somewhere round here. Do you want to meet up?”
“Okay er… mate…”
“Do you want to take my number?”

I gave him my phone to put the number in. He didn’t put in his name. The fucker was testing me. I smiled, and just put “Chaw’s Friend.” As soon as I got home, I texted Dunk, who thankfully was able to rescue me. Phew! Watching the football with John, as it happens, was a much better experience than I’d imagined. I always found him a bit smug, but once we got talking, it wasn’t as bad. His family are from Gleadless in Sheffield. I warmed to him by the third pint.

Hi remember me? I’m your hangover! Bleugh! It felt lethargic, so I went for a cider instead of a lager. The sugar pepped me up. If anything, it pepped me up too much. It was Pervy’s birthday, and – despite the fact that Sonicka was encouraging me – I fear that my bodypopping could have been out of place in the Met. I had a brilliant evening with Liz, her housemates, and some of her Uni friends. Lucinda’s hair was outstanding. She and I had an interesting chat in the garden after the pub had closed. I didn’t learn anything new from it, but it was important nonetheless.

Adult conversation, child’s play

Louise invited me to come for drinks with some friends of friends of hers. Dave and Gemma had an open house, and invited neighbours and friends to pop round. How thoughtful, given that I’ve struggled with getting to know my soon-to-be-moving-out housemate. I really enjoyed meeting everybody. It was a very grown-up bash. Dave is a scientist, Gemma works in IT, Holly for the Geographical Society, Chloe manages a children’s home, and Joanna makes TV advertisements. That’s the Chorlton I want to be part of. Dave suggested we meet up for a pint some time. Yes! What a good idea!

I got into costume, and wandered past Didsbury pointless on my way to Old Lansdowne. On the way, I stumbled across Pervy, struggling to park his car on Cavendish Road. I helped. It was nice to see him, but sort of strange too. I shook his hand and wished him well. As I walked on, for a few sad seconds I thought about what my New Year plans would have been if I were still with Liz. So it goes. Someone called out “Aye Aye Captain,” as I passed the Lime Tree. I raised my hand in a goofy salute, and smiled.

I headed for the Fordbank Cartoon Themed Fancy Dress New Year’s party. I was Captain Haddock. It was ace.

For those about to Rock Radio, we salute you

We went to Rock Radio to listen to the tags they’d produced for work. They all came out well, especially “The faster you fly… the quicker you’ll die!” and “Road rage?!… They’ll put you in a cage!” I felt tingles in my arm hairs as I heard The Voice reading out my ideas. They really work, I think. Later on we were shown around the studio, and met Mike Sweeney, one of the DJs. His enthusiasm was astounding, and I got to sit in the studio during a link, which was absolutely brilliant! The thrill of live radio!

Road rage?! They'll put you in a cage!

Rock Radio got back to us, and we've agreed on a couple of things

We're voicing:

* * * * * Driving with no seatbelt... is a highway to hell
* * * * * Shut up! Belt Up! Put your seatbelt on!
* * * * * Before you set off... turn that phone off.
* * * * * The faster you fly the quicker you'll die.
* * * * * Slow down and enjoy the rock!
* * * * * Road rage?! They'll put you in a cage!

Pervy pointed out that Lucinda had said "...they'll throw you in a cage!" rather than "...they'll put you in a cage!" - I feel like I've let her down terribly.

Liz and I went for a quiet pint in the Railway later on. It was freezing outside. So long summertime!

The sexy bit that wasn't there

I went to the Manchester Museum to check out the dinosaurs, and to pick up the tickets for the up-close and personal Mark Morris gig there. It was cool. I saw...











Afterwards, I went to see Liz. I chatted to Pervy a bit whilst Liz got herself a drink. He was banging on about famous filmette Scarlett Johannson, and how hot he thinks she is. Blah blah Pervy blah! The film we hired from Blockbuster didn't work, so I found a old Lovefilm disc that I hadn't watched, and we put that on instead. The Man Who Wasn't There. Brilliant. What an excellent film. I love Billy Bob especially, who does nothing at all and everything he needs to. Perfect.

Well, almost perfect. The DVD skipped from near the end of one chapter to the start of the next. It wasn't for very long, it seemed, as the narrative flow wasn't much affected, if at all. Later on, I read a plot summary of the film to see what happened. We'd missed a sexy bit. With guess who...? Only Scarlett Jo-fucking-hannson. Gutted.

Healthy, not healthy

How to celebrate Liz completing her 10k run in 1hr 2min? With lots of booze in the Metropolitan garden, with Pervy and Lu, with Steve, Chubb and Paul, with a bolognese. Lovely!

This is what a selection of chocolate looks like

Look on my works, ye Pervy, and DESPAIR!

I hope that's not 2 girls 1 cup Bearemy...