Pippa and Hula

Text from Pippa: "Let's go for a drink DTRMCR, I haven't seen you in ages!"

Yes, good idea! How about some two-for-one cocktails at Hula bar?

Great!

Final preparations

Preparations for the barn were drawing to a head. All the shopping was done. The guests had been allocated to drivers, to cars. I knew who was bringing what games, and roughly what the plans were for food. Now it was time to get cooking. The menu consisted of bean chilli, and spaghetti Bolognese. For 25. Yikes!

Fucking shopping

I had never, until today, filled a large shopping trolley until it was overflowing. I had never, until today, spent more than £150 in a single trip to the supermarket. Asda! A world of firsts.

Gifts and curry

Amazon has been my life-line this Christmas. Most of my shopping has been delivered in brown boxes to my desk at work. The last of them, for Pippa, arrived today. It’s an amazingly tacky Dizzee Rascal necklace that’s shaped like a guitar pick (picture after the jump). I wrapped it at my desk, and arranged to meet Pip at her work to exchange gifts.

"You are not your reclaimed Victorian hospital restoration apartment."

Remember that moment near the beginning of Fight Club when The Narrator's condo explodes? Something very similar happened yesterday in West Didsbury. From the Manchester Evening News:

It is believed the first explosion was caused when a workman was drilling through pipes under the central tower of the building.

Workmen at the scene told the MEN that a spark from a colleague’s saw ignited into a fireball.

The 40-year-old man was taken to Manchester Royal Infirmary suffering burns. His injuries are not thought to be life-threatening.

Following the fireball at 8.50am, contractors were evacuated from the area and site managers also moved residents from the 20 flats in the building which are already occupied.

Bangers and Pippa

“Come round for your tea!” said Pippa.
“You betcha!” said I.
“Bangers and mash okay for you DTRMCR?”
“It’s my favourite food of all time.”
“So how’s your love life?”
“It’s complicated, but quite interesting.”
“Oooh!”

Life is not all cake and owl.

The pizza party wheel just keeps on turning, and the pizza party wagon rolls on and on and on. Building on the good work of the party with the Padmores and the one with Megan, the third shindig was AWESOME!

We had guests: Champ; Paulina; Laura; Rory; Laura; Pippa; Hannah.

We had games: Pass the Parcel; Talking Heads.

We had cake. Home-made, hand-decorated owl cake.

Pippa and Paulina took steps towards peace between each other (maybe via a two-state solution?) by finding common ground over Twin Peaks. Pass the Parcel went down very well – generosity won hearts and minds all around the room. And then Dunk unveiled the cake. Triumphant! Kate’s face said it all.

Fish

Pippa came round for tea. We ate fish, and drank two bottles of red wine. Kate joined us for cherry pie. The three of us listened to power ballads and Elton John, and chatted into the night. Celebrity crushes discussed: David Tennant; Frankie Boyle; BT mum; Jess Cartner-Morley; Michael Palin; the dad from 2point4 Children. Hehehe!

Liz and Liz

Liz B, my first ever girlfriend, got married yesterday. I just saw the photos on Facebook. It made me think it'd be a good idea to tell Liz S, my last girlfriend, that there are no hard feelings on my part. I like the idea that you can be friends with your exes.

I'm only really friends with one of them though.

So it goes.

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?

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?”

Pea and mint risotto, raspberry meringue, sauvignon blanc

Pippa came round for tea, my second guest (after Dr Jim), and just as welcome. Pea and mint risotto is easy to cook, and less wanky than it sounds. We talked about the ongoing dental work, about last week’s news, about the move, about her arrogant housemate and her planned move to M21. Our grand old chat ended, as always, with me thinking that too long passes between our meetings.

I’d finished Maus, and Pip had finished Perseopolis, so we swapped them. As Pippa’s taxi pulled away, I was already turning pages with a smile.

Kate came home unexpectedly early, which was a nice surprise. I was a bit pissed, but didn’t say anything too stupid, I hope. Matt and Chaw soon arrived too. Chaw said that her friend Kate, who she’s trying to matchmake me with, was coming out to the dogs for Dunk’s birthday. The love-plot thickens, eh?

Escape.... the epitome of noughties naff

“If you come round at 6, I’ll cook your tea Pip.”
“That sounds great! See you then!”

Pippa popped round on her bike, having got lost around Morrison’s like she always does. She was really well. We parked up at home, then strolled to the supermarket to pick up salmon, cheats’ potatoes, salad and cheesy mushrooms. We grabbed a bottle of wine too.

Dinner was brilliant. Since Pip stopped working in town, we’ve seen quite a bit less of each other. I’d missed hanging out with such a good friend, especially with all the studying I’ve been doing recently, so it was a solid-gold joy. We talked through recent developments around moving house, romance (or the lack of it) and work. The food was amazing too. We watched the Top 60 Ghetto Names on youtube and swapped a few ringtones. Later on, as Bruce was still busy, we went around the corner to Escape for a couple of drinks. Dunk thinks the bar is the epitome of noughties naff, which I understand. Then again, for a bar so very close to home… it isn’t all that bad… just don’t look too hard at the paintings.

We sat on a sofa across a small table from another sofa. A couple asked if they could join us. Of course. We got to talking, Heat Magazine this, living in Chorlton that, spending time in Sheffield the other. They were very pleasant. We talked about running, half-marathons, about my target time. We talked about travelling, about cooking, and about buying a house. They bought us a drink. Pippa swapped numbers with the girl. And then we all left.

“While you were outside smoking,” said Pippa, “she asked me how long we’d been a couple for.” How strange. Do Pippa and I get mistaken for a couple very often? Not that I’m aware of, no. But you never know what other people are thinking, right? I put Pippa on her bike and sent her home.

As I cleaned my teeth before going to bed, I puzzled over why people might make that mistake about Pippa and me. As I rewound and replayed the conversation with the couple in my head, I remembered several occasions where I’d connected something that was said to something about Pippa – “Oh that’s interesting, Pippa lived in Australia too” – and Pip had done the same about me – “Dave studied in Sheffield” – was it that level of knowledge that misled our company? Or, more simply, is it because we’re so relaxed in each other’s company?

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.

Pip hates JPG

Aldi stocks axes

Pip and I were a bit shocked to see this in Aldi at lunchtime.



No guards on the blades. No security at all. Just in an aisle, on a basketed shelf, not ten yards from chocolate biscuits. One psycho away from a gory headline, if you ask me.

Cantankerous old moo

How old and infirm do you have to be to get away with being really really rude?

Pip and I spent the morning cruising around Chorlton, handing in her CV at bars and cafes around the place. Some places just felt right - The Marble, Pi, The Bar - others were so wrong that we didn't even waste the paper on them. As we headed for the White Star, we came across a very old lady with a white stick. "Excuse me! Excuse me!" she called out. I looked at Pip. She looked back at me. The right thing to do was obvious.

"Hello. Do you need some help?"
"Oh yes. Can you take me to the bread shop by the post office?"
"Yes no problem. I'm DTRMCR, and this is my friend Pippa."
"Hello! What's your name?" asked Pip.
"It's Pat."
"Nice to meet you Pat."

I took her arm, and we crept slowly towards the Post Office. "Slower!" I looked at Pip. Her eyebrows went up. Oh right. We slowed down. "You have to tell me when we're at the kerb." Okay then. How to diffuse the bad vibes? We talked about the weather, what else? The recent heavy snow was a freak weather event, with very wet air from the Atlantic colliding with very cold air from Siberia over the M4 corridor. The south had been horribly affected. Manchester less so.

Pip: We were saved by the hills of Cheshire to the south
Pat: Rubbish, no hills in Cheshire, where's your geography Pippa? The Pennines, it was the Pennines.
DTRMCR: I think...

Pip squeezed my arm, shook her head slightly. I held my tongue. We plodded on, with me highlighting every kerb we approached. "We're near the post office now, Pat," I said, the relief audible in my voice, "What are you doing in the post office?"
"Pay attention, I said I wanted to go to the bread shop. Don't you listen?"

We didn't speak from then on, a cloud of silence around us until we got to the shop. We held open the door, guided our rude companion up the step, and left. We said goodbye, and she didn't say thank you.

Someone so rude must test the patience of anybody that looks after them. Our fifteen minutes was hellish. Carers are saints.

Pip

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.

There are places I remember…

I went round after work to help Pip with an application form for a new job. Catching the Wilmslow Road bus rather than the Chorlton bus felt strange – familiar, but not quite right at the same time. It isn’t that long since I rode that route twice a day. I struggled to think of when I was last at Pippa’s house – apart from delivering her Christmas card – was it when I first met Bruce? Did we eat a cheesecake that day? Did we go to the Friendship? Most of the form was covered by what we’d written before, so it didn’t take too long. Afterwards Pip drove me back through West Didsbury, past my old house, and past hers too.

“I’m not wearing hockey pads”

I’m not enjoying work much at the moment. My boss came over today to talk to me.

“You look like you’re not enjoying work much at the moment.”
“Oh it’s not work. I’ve got personal problems,” I lied, through gritted teeth.
“You’re sure it’s not the job?”

I blathered on about how stressful moving house was, about Liz, about my shock at Paul and Clare deciding to live together, about anything except how little I enjoyed work. She seemed convinced, concerned and nodding. It wasn’t totally untrue; I didn’t fabricate any problems – each of those things has bummed me out in their own way recently – but I left a pretty big one out of the mix. Work. I can come to her any time with my problems, she said, work-related or not. Well that’s a relief, I didn’t say to myself. I couldn’t wait to get out of there and get to the shops. I finally found a toy for Owen, along with a hat for NYE. Blistering barnacles indeed!

Kate and Dunk popped round for a brew, both sniffly, both bearing gifts. Dunk’s gift rattles, like Lego (I hope!), and Kate’s gift feels bookish. I wonder! Pip popped round too with some homemade chutney. How exciting! With Tracy’s and J___’s gift too, I’ll have a mini Christmas all of my own once I get back to Chorlton on 27th. I’d meant to get on with wrapping gifts, but by the time Pip had left, it was quite late, and I had to cook before I could get my sellotape out, and that was before Kate texted. “Are you going to watch The Dark Knight? We’re watching the Dark Knight, so why not come here to watch it.” How could I say no?

On a second watch, on a smaller screen, I noticed more plotting than I had before. Officer Ramirez is prominent at several key moments, for example, where she seemed inconspicuous first time round. The Hong Kong sequence is very, very cool and I love how tight the first scene is. Lean and wiry dialogue, neat ideas, enough unexpected turns to keep the interest. It sets out the tone for the film, the brutal genius of the main character, and the under-plot with the mafia. I’d downloaded and watched it several times anyway, and it never gets tired. Start with a punch? “POW!”