Posted 3:03 AM by Gobbler
Manchester Starvation Relief Blog

now what was it that io was going to say here? off to manchester in an hour or two for more matey bashing. dearest mother has given me a pile of food to take up as Chateaux Beechings (my humble abode) cannot chow through it all before it goes green. The trouble with Chateaux Beechings is that those in charge of buying the food doo get terribly excited and buy rather a lot. Now, Chateaux Beechings is, as those who have been there will know, also quite a hungry house and therefore the consumables are processed at an impressive rate. But not quite impressive enough, and the predictable occurs. Supply outstrips Demand and Stockpiling occurs. This in many ways is marvellous as one can find almost everything one could want to devour secreted away in some cupboard or drawer, or perched apon some shelf. Its also marvellous in another way. In these dangerous times of international terror and whatnot, it is jolly handy to have a house so stocked as to enable the occupants to survive a nuclear winter. Provided there is a careful rationing of the pickled onions of course. at last count we had 3,249 pickled onions, shallots and eggs, obviously not counting the one i had for breakfast although i suppose technically it is still in the house from a certain point of of view. What we reall need is a full time quartermaster, because things do occasionally get out of hand. Cupboards explode, shelves collapse, the tin opener goes on strike and so on. So im exporting a few bits and bobs to manchester.

Manchester, being in the north of england, is not only grim, but poor too, and a couple of those whom i will be visiting are students and thus the poorest of the lot. and very often the grimmest. so it seems fair to hand out a few lifesaving nourishments to those in need. Not as high profile as feeding the starving in Africa, but neverless a worthy cause.

I remember one time in manchester, oh, last year sometime i spose, when, after a noight of hoit, toit and a bit of all roight, i was rather drunk. what we needed was sustenance, and we trundled into a late night shop. Being a rip off as most shops are, sandwiches cost three quid. The usual fee, but ahaa! I spotted a deal and a half. Pre-cooked Roast Chicken for a fiver! Marvellous, i purchased it immediately, and proceeded to gobble it on the bus home. Not being able to eat it all i put it in my mates fridge. In the morning i indicated to him that i had bought a chicken, nibbled at it, and put the remainder in the fridge. perhaps he would like to have the rest of it, being a poor and starving student and all (i should point out that the gent in question, one Mr Patrick Ryan, is not to all appearances a starving fellow, he is, rather, quite a portly young man. Portly to the extent of starvation resistant, not famine proof, if you see what i mean.) he might like to have the rest of it. He looked at it for a moment, made some this is outrageous noises and chucked it in the bin. theres gratitude for you.

This morning, well, earlier this morning, shortly after i had eschewed my early morning job on the grounds of rheumatism and unfavourable weather conditions, i popped down the garage to talk to the bloke about the dent in my bonnet. This unhappy wounding of my vehicle took place on New Years Eve or day, when, parked on the road in snowy Leeds, some irritating git bashed into it. Looking it over with mechanic guy i discovered that my bonnet is double skinned; it has two layers of metal to it. this, and the location of the bump make it tricky to fix, and being on the curve of the bonnet it will never look that great. so we're looking at a new bonnet job. Great. Its lucky i suppose that im really very rich and can thus afford to chuck out a few hundred quid here and there after some crap and probably pissed probably woman (just putting that one in to cause outrage. heh heeee heh) driver (looks like it was done by the bars on the front of one of those 4x4's, the cheaper english version of an SUV, which are in towns driven almost exclusively by women). I am not best pleased. but i may just paint it up and then get a new bonnet when i want to sell, in case any other git faced punk decides to have a pop at my motor.

Last minute preps are in progress for China. Nearly there now. next week i think i might pack.

Posted 1:59 AM by Gobbler
An Blograge

Yesterday. It was one of those days where everything is an outrage. It started in outright outrage, ended in outrage and had its fair share of outrages along the way.

I awoke at something past one pm, outrageous, with the feeling that, when the sobering up process had been completed, an outrageous and unquenchable pain would develop in my cranium. This was due to an outrageous and unspecified number of beverages that had been mastered the night before.

I bumbled out of the flat after a sweetcorn pancake breakfast from my gracious and ever-hungry host, the chill afternoon air making me rue the outrageous 10 minute walk to the tube station. It was the beginning of operation 'get home sharpish'. I passed an odd shaped transit van, a new model that was i supposed brought out while i was away. Outrageous, how dare they!, i thought. It nearly ran me over, i wasnt pleased at all.

Approaching the tube, i fumbled in my pocket for money for the tube. The mystical and lonely 20p presented itself to my searching fingers. The same twenty pence that always manages to be the last and only coin standing at the end of a night whether i began it with five pounds or fifty. A clear outrage.

In due course i boarded the southbound tube, picadilly line, at Manor House. Due to various financial conerns i was getting the bus to oxford and then train to didcot, so i need the victoria line to Victoria bus station. Changing after one stop for the victoria line, i boarded what advertised itself as being the southbound train. At least i thought so, though my vision wasnyt too clear and my ability to judge effectively what i was seeing somewhat diminished due to the weekends outrageous excitements.

As we rocked and rolled out of the station, i began to be aware that i felt rather ill. We clanged to a stop at the next station and i looked out the window to see the name of a station i did not recognise. The tube map put the station on the wrong side of Kings Cross. It hit me. Damnit blooming outrage! I was going the wrong bloody way! I heard the announcement "this is a victoria line service to Brixton." Didnt want to go there, no sir! I made a hasty exit, southbound train my arse.

Trouble was that i couldnt see any signs for a southbound train, and the platform across the way was closed. A bloody outrage, i thought, theres no sodding southbound train, im stuck in the arse end of nowhere. I strode off purposefully in a direction, searching for the mystical southbound train.

After parading for some minutes along shiny clean tunnels,(the station may not have had southbound trains but it was nice and clean) industriously avoiding the tunnels that would take me to the exit, i eventually found an advert for a southbound train. Following it took me to a platform that looked rather like the one i had just left, but i supposed it wasnt that surprising. A train rolled up, and it seemed to be going the same direction as the train i had just got off. Well, i thought, i may be disoriented. I got on. The doors closed, i heard the announcement: "This is a Victoria line service to Brixton." Bugger. It was the same platform. It was the same direction. It was also the right platform and the right direction. Brixton is in the south of london. I had been going the right way all the time. Out-bloody-rageous.

Another outrageous thing happened on the tube, believe it or not. The Victoria line boasts a station from which one may access Buckingham Palace, and the loudspeaker makes one aware of it by saying "Alight here for Buckingham Palace." Alight! A-Light! I bet it doesnt tell you to Alight here for Peckham. Thats strictly a 'get out' job. Out-rage-e-ous.

A ten minute walk from the tube to the bus station, an hour and 40 bus journey, when i was distintly assured the journey only took an hour, and during which i nearly died due to not feeling very well, a ten minute walk to oxford train station, a 15 minute train journey and a 20 minute car journey and finally i was home to the mystical wonderland of the village of Nerris, 3 and a half hours after i had left london. I wasnt feeling too pretty, and sleep had been a neglected companion the last few days. If id only taken the train from paddington i could have made the whole journey in two hours. boo. Out..

I awoke from an 11 hour sleep this morning and things are feeling a lot more reasonable today. Tomorrow i start a new job. Its a two day op., requiring much skill and dedication. I am a photocopier. My job is to photcopy. For two days. Thats a blooming outrage and all. Good day to you sir.

kat: I'm having Granny Bars fitted to my vehicle next week. benjita: ditto. and all is well, though very busy. off to china on the 31st for a spot of teaching. Im near shanghai. why not pop over for a bit? sure youll need a holiday by then and its nice and cheap in china.