Coincidence

Lindsey from work is going out with Dave Shmoo! Nuts!

Kate, Paulina, Ryan and I went to Blowout with Matt and Chaw to watch She Keeps Bees, who are going to be at the Green Man Festival this year. As we were chatting, Kate pointed out Dave Shmoo. As he came over, Lindsey said "Hello!" to me. We know Dave Shmoo from Sol's and Fuel. Tiny world.

I was half-pissed when they walked in, and ended up ranting about Moss Side to Lindsey. I'm sure she was baffled by my ramblings.

Woody and Clare

I met Woody and Clare for a couple of beers after work that developed into a Rain - Temple - Cornerhouse - Solomon's session. "I don't see enough of you mate," said Woody. And it wasn't just the beer talking. I miss my Parsonage crowd really hard sometimes. Evenings and weekends mostly. I should try harder. Do more. Text better. Call more regularly. Share more time.

I don't. My own fault.

Getting things done

I had a good day of getting things done today, getting things off my chest and taking steps towards solutions.

My boss asked me what I'd thought of the training that we had on 3rd. I said I'd thought it was okay, but that it didn't really answer the question that we'd asked, about making spontaneous presentations in an informal setting. I'd actually thought it was dogshit, but I'm more subtle than that. Well, sometimes. The conversation soon shifted to a one-to-one about me, the team, various niggles that we both had. We had a long grumble about each other to each other, and ended in a really positive and hopeful way. I'm newly motivated after starting my course, and after acing my conference, so I was glad we were able to shift the overall tone of the meeting in a a good direction. And if I work hard on Tuesday and Wednesday next week, I can have Thursday and Friday off. Bingo!

I got back to my desk, and drafted a letter of notice to my landlord. Nothing special, a combination of two or three templates from the web, but enough to do the job. I contacted him to arrange the inspection we'd discussed yesterday. He's coming by tomorrow. I can't wait.

Later on, I met K___ from work to talk about my research project. She's not easy to get answers from. Does an empty pot ring loudest? In this case, it seems so, yes. Gently, gently, slowly, slowly, I managed to squeeze the information I was looking for out of her. "You can't evaluate my work," she said, "you just can't." That kind of attitude, I thought, is what I need to change.



Kate, Dunk and I went to Fuel and Indigo for some beers, and to meet some of the old Sol's girls. I spent a long time chatting to Laura, and ended the night rather drunk. Then again, I felt like today I've earned it.

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.

"You're the worst dancer I've ever seen."

I can't remember exactly when I first went into the cellar bar in Withington. I think it might have been as long ago as December 2005 or January 2006. It was after I'd been to Woody's for Christmas, but before I'd started to drink at the bar at Gina and Sophia's. I bumped into Phil in the street, as he was carrying a chair, and he invited me down for a look. At the time, I think it was going to be called Alioli at the time. After Kate's party, I was invited to the eventual opening night through Facebook, and that was this evening.



I arrived, and it was empty. Ghost town dead. Nice, but deathly quiet. Kate was working - how nice to see her behind a bar in Withington again! Like old times, but with a twist. Soon enough Tag showed up, then Little Laura, then Kate Bell - a compendium of familiar Sol's faces. Steve was a bit surprised to learn that I worked in R___ S____, and that I had been for six months. I was catching up with Kate Bell, and he was shocked to hear the news. Have I been that bad at telling my friends about my job, I wondered. Blimey! Woody, Clare and Paul soon showed up, and we retired to a table (pictured above) for a chat. The general vibe from everybody was that the cellar bar was pretty good. Funky Dunk, Al, Megan and Chaw arrived later on, and we had a de-brief of the party from the weekend. Al thinks I'm a bad dancer. A very bad dancer. Ouch!

Everybody drifted off apart from Pippa. She came and sat with me as I finished my pint and, bless her heart, listened to me complaining again. It seems that everytime I've seen Pip recently I've ended up whinging to her about something or other. What an absolute saint she is.

NTF