...next year will be the perfect year'
Whatever happened to Dina Carroll? A fellow Cantrabrigian, I can still remember seeing her having driving lessons around Cambridge. There was always an added air of excitement in Sainsbury's, where I worked, when she popped in for a Glade Plug-In and a Wagon Wheel! I think she was last heard of suffering from terrible stage fright?
Anyway, here we are then, 31st December. Traditionally, the end of the year is a time for reflection. Well, that's what we're brought up to believe, but in reality, for most people I've encountered, it tends to be all about fretting over what you're going to do on New Year's Eve! I think I'm yet to meet anyone who actively states that they love the 'big night'. Pubs that are crying out for your custom all year suddenly start charging you a fiver for the right to spend more money in over-crowded bars where it takes twenty minutes to get a drink and there are at least three 'Happy New Year' false alarms. Elsewhere taxi drivers swap their day jobs in favour of running extortion rackets. As a result, up and down the country friends play 'New Year Russian Roulette' refusing to commit to any plans until at the last minute (usually around the 28th December), someone finally cracks and declares that everyone can come to theirs.
Personally, I've never been a fan of New Year's Eve, although I have had some belters (a weekend in Rock conjours up particularly fond memories). No, to me, the passing of another year has really only meant that the festive celebrations are at an end and that I'm another year older! Yet, for once, I'm excited and optimistic about this New Year. Granted, a lot of this is wrapped up in my building giddiness over the Olympics - at this rate, by July they'll have to put me on valium - but most of the excitement is based on the simple fact that 2012 isn't 2011.
In short I can't wait to see the back of this ruddy year. OK, so there have been some high points - the weddings of Kate & Wills and Sophie & Chris most notably - but let's be honest, it's not been a vintage. Compared with the various trials and tribulations I've watched a number of friends and relations go through, mine's probably been fair to middling, but I wouldn't describe it as an easy, plain-sailing sort of year. However, as I gaze back and survey the wreckage like the opening scene from Lost, somehow everyone is still present and correct, still just about smiling, albeit with an array of battle scars and a greater tolerance for alcohol!
When I look back on where I was this time last year, I don't think I'd ever have imagined that this year would have turned out the way it has, but with the new year on the horizon there is lots to look forward to. At the very least 2011 has made me appreciate things I previously took for granted. For starters I have a greater affection for the Royal Family than I ever knew and I've learnt that I genuinely can't be without a Smartphone! Perhaps more importantly, in the maelstrom of the long-term break-up, I managed to qualify for my Chartered Institute of Marketing Diploma and get promoted at work, so I'm clearly tougher, more resilient and more practical than I thought. I've also managed to say a sad but fond farewell to the past eleven years devoid (I think) of any anger or bitterness and find myself generally wishing the ex and the 'replacement me' the very best of happiness - so maybe I'm not as far away from the fair, rational and decent person I always try to be as I sometimes think - that said, I do comfort myself with the fact that I regard myself as infinitely superior to the new me on virtually every level (sorry, couldn't resist it). Most of all, however, 2011 has made me appreciate how very fortunate I am to be surrounded by such amazing, warm, considerate, funny and inspiring friends and family who have laughed with me, cried with me and mostly got very, very drunk with me. My biggest fear was being alone, but thanks to you I haven't had to be. You will never know the positive difference you've made and continue to make to my little ol' life.
It only remains for me to say, that if you've had a good year then I am genuinely pleased for you - little bits of your happiness and enthusiasm have rubbed of on the rest of us and made the tough bits that little bit easier. If you've had a stinker of a year, then congratulate yourself for making it through in one piece and comfort yourself with the knowledge that 2012 is going to be amazing. And whatever role you've played in my life this year, know that you're incredibly special, and I wish you and your loved ones the most amazing, enjoyable and stress-free new year.
2012 - BRING IT ON!
Saturday, 31 December 2011
Wednesday, 28 December 2011
Day 220 (28 December 2011) - It's the Final Countdown...
...doodle do dooo, doodle doodle do do' etc/'
Hello! Given that one of the central themes of this blog has been music and it's well know that I'm a music-stat spod, I thought it only right and proper to bring you my own personal Top 10 tunes of 2011.
Now before I get into this, I should point out that whilst I have a broad knowledge and appreciation of music, I am not an expert. Yes, I was handy on the recorder as child, yes, I have been known to play my teeth (where's That's Life when you need it?) and yes, I'm still the best person in a music quiz I know, but Gareth Malone, I am not. I'm putting this caveat in now, because in compiling this list I (and I agonised for minutes over this), I quickly realised that my songs of the year were going to be a world away from those produced by various musos in the industry press - and in many cases my selections would be regarded as utter tripe.
With this in mind, there was a temptation to lob in some more 'acceptable' selections, but then I thought 'sod it - my gaff my rules'. In addition, many of you will have heard me ramble on ad nauseum about my mission to rid the world of bullshit. If you haven't, the theory behind this is as follows:
Here we go:
10. James Blake - Limit to your love
Probably the most obscure track on my list, but a perfect Sunday morning track. James Blake has an amazing voice. Be warned - it contains some big, empty pauses, so you'll think it's finished before it has. Just a shame the rest of the album wasn't as good,
9. Beyonce - Best thing I never had
Ooh, Beyonce, how you've teased me this year! Everything she's released has disappointed me on first hearing, but like ragwort has slowly embedded itself in my brain. I felt sooooo letdown by the album '4' and thought it was rubbish, but having gone back to it recently, now love every single song. My current fave is Love on Top, which nearly made it into the list, but as 'Best Thing I Never Had' is my third most played song of the year, I plumped for this instead. 'I bet it sucks to be you right now'! That said, much as I now love the album, there's nothing in the same league as her classics (Crazy in Love would be in my all time Top 10).
8. Saturdays - Notorious
Apparently The Saturdays have had 12 hits thus far yet I bet most people would struggle to name three. I have to admit that when I heard this song, I had no idea it was The Saturdays, being so different from the typical three-minute bubble-gum pop they'd released previously. However, it is definitely them and it is definitely a choon (particularly when having a wiggle)
7. Ed Sheeran - Lego House
Aah, little Ed. Like a little hobbit he burst upon the scene this year. This is what I love about the download era - someone like Ed Sheeran would not have made it in previous times, being neither cool enough or pretty enough to have been signed. Yet his debut album has sold over a million copies in the UK and he's watched by gazillions on Youtube. That said, I find him a little annoying, but will forgive him for this beautiful song (I wonder if Lego get royalties?)
6. Saturdays - All Fired Up
I admit to being slightly embarrassed. Having one song by The Saturdays in this list is bad enough, but two!? Lordy! Yet it's a thumper of a song and probably one of the most innovative dance tunes of the year - much better than any of the formulaic or recycled stuff most producers are churning out (yes, Monsieur Guetta, I do mean you.)
5. Nicki Minaj - Super Bass
Forget Lady Gaga, you want proper bonkers? Then Nicki Minaj is your girl. She looks and raps like someone who's given her carer the slip whilst out at bingo. This song is, however, a belter particularly when she does that weird thing with her voice. As mad as a box of frogs, but I love her for it
4. Adele - Rolling in the Deep
A quick glance at my ITunes account shows that of my 25 Most Played songs of the year, 13 of them are by Adele - this probably mirrors 85% of the UK population this year. Every single song on 21 is a belter (although He Won't Go sits a bit oddly for me in the middle of the album). This is an absolute stonker of a song that demands to be bellowed at the top of your voice. The hours I've sat in the bath with my good friend, Sauvignon, hollering 'we could have had it alllllllllllllll'.
3. Tiesto ft Busta Rhymes - C'mon (catch 'em by surprise)
I've always wanted to be Busta Rhymes. In a world of over-hyped rappers who can barely speak, let alone rap (50 Cent, P-Diddy), Busta Rhymes has always struck me as being both technically brilliant and slightly eccentric. This song, in which he combines with German Techno DJ extraordinaire, Tiesto, is a little work of genius. It's also THE best song to workout to you will hear in a very long while.
2. Maroon 5 ft Christina Aguilera - Moves like Jagger
This was the year's 'grower not a shower'. When it first landed in the charts in August, I'd never heard it and couldn't find anyone else who had. 18 weeks later and it's still knocking around the Top 20 having spent six weeks at number 2. It's 3:21 of sheer joy combining a melody that makes you want to sing along and beat you simply have to wiggle to. Compare and contrast to that witch, Cher Lloyd's, 'Swagger Jagger' which wins my vote as worst song of the year.
1. Adele - Someone Like You
Apparently I've played this song 183 times this year - that's once every other day. Granted, a number of them were packed together in March / April during what I've termed 'my Bridget Jones moments' and usually came as a pair with 'Rolling in the Deep' (sometimes I'd go angry -sad, others I'd go sad - angry, depending on the mood). I first heard Adele perform this song at the end of last year on the Jools Holland show and instantly put it down as an all-time classic. I was also fortunate enough to hear her sing it live at her album launch in a Notting Hill pub in January, where she described how she's come to write the song 'I was basically on my knees', and reduced many members of the audience to tears. It was, however, her unforgettable performance at the Brits that catapulted it to Number One and has gone on to make it the biggest selling single of the year by some margin. The sense of loss coupled with the sense of decency and dignity make it the saddest song I've ever heard, but Adele's amazing delivery and the simplicity of the live version (are you listening, Leona?) make it a thing of absolute beauty. In a year of some corking songs, 'Someone Like You' stood head and shoulders above everything else.
...honourable mentions should go to Emeli Sande - Heaven, Christine Perri - Jar of Hearts and Pitbull - Give me Everything.
Think my selections are abysmal? Have I missed out on your favourite? Then let me know!
Hello! Given that one of the central themes of this blog has been music and it's well know that I'm a music-stat spod, I thought it only right and proper to bring you my own personal Top 10 tunes of 2011.
Now before I get into this, I should point out that whilst I have a broad knowledge and appreciation of music, I am not an expert. Yes, I was handy on the recorder as child, yes, I have been known to play my teeth (where's That's Life when you need it?) and yes, I'm still the best person in a music quiz I know, but Gareth Malone, I am not. I'm putting this caveat in now, because in compiling this list I (and I agonised for minutes over this), I quickly realised that my songs of the year were going to be a world away from those produced by various musos in the industry press - and in many cases my selections would be regarded as utter tripe.
With this in mind, there was a temptation to lob in some more 'acceptable' selections, but then I thought 'sod it - my gaff my rules'. In addition, many of you will have heard me ramble on ad nauseum about my mission to rid the world of bullshit. If you haven't, the theory behind this is as follows:
- Everyone is bumbling through life, making it up as they go along
- Everyone pretends they're not making it up and actually have all aspects of their life under control as part of a long-term grand plan
- Everyone looks at everyone else and thinks 'oh 'eck, everyone around me has everything sorted. It's just me that doesn't, therefore I'm slightly inadequate'
- Everyone feels slightly inadequate
- If everyone was a bit more honest about the first point, we'd all be happier and the world would be a nicer place
Here we go:
10. James Blake - Limit to your love
Probably the most obscure track on my list, but a perfect Sunday morning track. James Blake has an amazing voice. Be warned - it contains some big, empty pauses, so you'll think it's finished before it has. Just a shame the rest of the album wasn't as good,
9. Beyonce - Best thing I never had
Ooh, Beyonce, how you've teased me this year! Everything she's released has disappointed me on first hearing, but like ragwort has slowly embedded itself in my brain. I felt sooooo letdown by the album '4' and thought it was rubbish, but having gone back to it recently, now love every single song. My current fave is Love on Top, which nearly made it into the list, but as 'Best Thing I Never Had' is my third most played song of the year, I plumped for this instead. 'I bet it sucks to be you right now'! That said, much as I now love the album, there's nothing in the same league as her classics (Crazy in Love would be in my all time Top 10).
8. Saturdays - Notorious
Apparently The Saturdays have had 12 hits thus far yet I bet most people would struggle to name three. I have to admit that when I heard this song, I had no idea it was The Saturdays, being so different from the typical three-minute bubble-gum pop they'd released previously. However, it is definitely them and it is definitely a choon (particularly when having a wiggle)
7. Ed Sheeran - Lego House
Aah, little Ed. Like a little hobbit he burst upon the scene this year. This is what I love about the download era - someone like Ed Sheeran would not have made it in previous times, being neither cool enough or pretty enough to have been signed. Yet his debut album has sold over a million copies in the UK and he's watched by gazillions on Youtube. That said, I find him a little annoying, but will forgive him for this beautiful song (I wonder if Lego get royalties?)
6. Saturdays - All Fired Up
I admit to being slightly embarrassed. Having one song by The Saturdays in this list is bad enough, but two!? Lordy! Yet it's a thumper of a song and probably one of the most innovative dance tunes of the year - much better than any of the formulaic or recycled stuff most producers are churning out (yes, Monsieur Guetta, I do mean you.)
5. Nicki Minaj - Super Bass
Forget Lady Gaga, you want proper bonkers? Then Nicki Minaj is your girl. She looks and raps like someone who's given her carer the slip whilst out at bingo. This song is, however, a belter particularly when she does that weird thing with her voice. As mad as a box of frogs, but I love her for it
4. Adele - Rolling in the Deep
A quick glance at my ITunes account shows that of my 25 Most Played songs of the year, 13 of them are by Adele - this probably mirrors 85% of the UK population this year. Every single song on 21 is a belter (although He Won't Go sits a bit oddly for me in the middle of the album). This is an absolute stonker of a song that demands to be bellowed at the top of your voice. The hours I've sat in the bath with my good friend, Sauvignon, hollering 'we could have had it alllllllllllllll'.
3. Tiesto ft Busta Rhymes - C'mon (catch 'em by surprise)
I've always wanted to be Busta Rhymes. In a world of over-hyped rappers who can barely speak, let alone rap (50 Cent, P-Diddy), Busta Rhymes has always struck me as being both technically brilliant and slightly eccentric. This song, in which he combines with German Techno DJ extraordinaire, Tiesto, is a little work of genius. It's also THE best song to workout to you will hear in a very long while.
2. Maroon 5 ft Christina Aguilera - Moves like Jagger
This was the year's 'grower not a shower'. When it first landed in the charts in August, I'd never heard it and couldn't find anyone else who had. 18 weeks later and it's still knocking around the Top 20 having spent six weeks at number 2. It's 3:21 of sheer joy combining a melody that makes you want to sing along and beat you simply have to wiggle to. Compare and contrast to that witch, Cher Lloyd's, 'Swagger Jagger' which wins my vote as worst song of the year.
1. Adele - Someone Like You
Apparently I've played this song 183 times this year - that's once every other day. Granted, a number of them were packed together in March / April during what I've termed 'my Bridget Jones moments' and usually came as a pair with 'Rolling in the Deep' (sometimes I'd go angry -sad, others I'd go sad - angry, depending on the mood). I first heard Adele perform this song at the end of last year on the Jools Holland show and instantly put it down as an all-time classic. I was also fortunate enough to hear her sing it live at her album launch in a Notting Hill pub in January, where she described how she's come to write the song 'I was basically on my knees', and reduced many members of the audience to tears. It was, however, her unforgettable performance at the Brits that catapulted it to Number One and has gone on to make it the biggest selling single of the year by some margin. The sense of loss coupled with the sense of decency and dignity make it the saddest song I've ever heard, but Adele's amazing delivery and the simplicity of the live version (are you listening, Leona?) make it a thing of absolute beauty. In a year of some corking songs, 'Someone Like You' stood head and shoulders above everything else.
...honourable mentions should go to Emeli Sande - Heaven, Christine Perri - Jar of Hearts and Pitbull - Give me Everything.
Think my selections are abysmal? Have I missed out on your favourite? Then let me know!
Friday, 16 December 2011
Day 206 (14 December 2011) - Diggi Loo, Diggi Ley...
...life is goin' my way, when I'm walking in my golden boots'
Now, don't worry, I haven't gone all 'Gok Wan' and purchased some golden footwear - although I do have a fine selection of colourful trainers. No, for those that don't remember, Diggi Loo, Diggi Ley was the winning song from the 1984 Eurovision Song Contest, sang by Swedish brothers 'Herrey's'. Look here they are...
...and to think, some people actually want the 80s back?!
When we last spoke (I know, it's been too long again), I was seeking 'a chitty' for three of my challenges, the first of which I detailed in the last post. I'm pleased to say that nobody cried 'foul' so I'm taking that as acceptance of my sidestep. The point of this particular ramble (amazingly, they do all have a point) is to seek your approval for a similar avoidance of Challenge 4 - Attend the Biathlon World Cup in Antholz (Ellen).
For the uninitated, biathlon is simply the greatest sport ever invented! It has few links to triathlon and absolutely nothing to do with Michael Barrymore. It is, instead, a combination of cross-country skiing and shooting. Essentially, you ski your nuts off (cross-country skiing is regarded as the most complete physical work out of any sport) and then, when you're body is shaking with fatigue, you have to shoot five targets, the size of a golf ball, from 50 metres. For each shot missed, you ski a penalty loop before heading out to do it all over again. It's a combination of athleticism, skill, mental strength and sheer excitement.
Now I know what you're thinking; 'Biathlon isn't that big in Putney' and you'd be right (although you can rollerski in Richmond Park), 'so how did you get into this, Craig - do tell' The answer is simple - drink. I discovered the sport, by chance, whilst nursing bad hangovers on Saturday mornings for it is a staple event on Eurosport. Within weeks I was hooked and within months Jam & I found ourselves up an Italian Alp in Antholz, Italy, enjoying the World Championships. Whilst we'd expected the spectacle of the sport to be good, there were a number of unexpected joys we discovered during this first trip:
1. Biathlon fans love the British - not something you can say in most sports, but then we tend to be competitive in most. In biathlon we are the perennial plucky losers. Our team, made up of hardy army types, lack the training, experience and equipment of the world's best biathlon nations (Norway, Germany, Russia, France and Sweden). As a result we can normally be found at the back of the field, battling the Serbians and the Lithuanians (miles behind the Estonians, Koreans and Bulgarians) - but, such is the physicality of the sport that our boys and girls still do us proud.
2. The cameraderie - biathlon fans are totally bonkers, but soooo friendly. Of course, everyone is rooting for their national team, but banners bearing phrases such as 'Biathlon Fans love all Biathletes' are common. Standing on a concrete step for three hours at minus six isn't particularly pleasant, so shot glasses are passed round, food shared and huddling is encouraged. Combine this with point one and we are generally treated like celebrities - people actually want to have their photo taken with us simply for being British?!
3.The drink - outside of the actual races, attending a biathlon is like being at the Oktoberfest. The moment the last biathlete has crossed the finish line (normally one of ours), everyone decamps to giant beer tents, where dodgy German bands attempt ambitious covers of classics whilst everyone dances on tables and benches. Meanwhile every waves their national flag like loons. This goes on for several hours before en masse, everyone heads to the nearest town / village for more beer.
It was during our second visit to Antholz where Piggy, Jam and I were fortunate enough to meet biathlon afficianados Ellen, Cathrine, Ingrid and Annika, four wonderful Norwegian friends, who volunteer in Antholz every year and who, we've since found out, are the organising committee of the Norwegian leg of the biathlon tour. Ellen, who's a nurse, expressed concern as to the well-being of Piggy, who was so drunk he could barely stand. At one point he wandered off suddenly. When I finally caught up with him, I asked him why he'd disappeared. 'It was too stuffy in there, I needed to get outside for some air' he replied. It was at that point we realised how much trouble he was in, as we had actually been outside - at minus four - the entire time! The train and bus journey to the stadium the following day, is one we'll never forget :-)
Our Norwegian friends bowled us over with their generosity. As well as being generally lovely, they got us into the 'plush' beer cabin, gave us a lift from the stadium, invited us to dinner, gave us Norwegian biathlon hats, gave me a biathlon annual (and you know how much I love a stat) and even secured us a meeting with the British Eurosport commentators. Here's a shot of us with Mike 'the legend' Dixon, commentator and Britain's best ever biathlete:
...and one of us with the girls
So it was with a heavy heart that I had to turn down this challenge and reject a return trip to Antholz. The reason, once again, was financial - Challenge 28 -Buy a flat in Putney, ain't cheap you know (more to come on that soon, I hope). In addition, this year has made me realise that my wonderful friends and family are the bedrock of my existence and with my brother having moved to Sweden, I figured a visit to see him and his gorgeous family was very much in order.
However, I don't want you to think that I take these challenges lightly and throw them away at a whim - everyone is considered carefully. Therefore, I decided to kill two birds with one stone and divert my annual biathlon trip to the Swedish round of the World Cup tour. Thus last weekend by big bro and I travelled up to the town of Ostersund (I'm reliably informed it's halfway up Sweden, but as far as I'm concerned it's practically the North Pole). And what a wonderful time we had -we saw some great racing, met some new members of the British Biathlon team (all members of the army -one ski'd for the first time three weeks previously?!) and drank our own bodyweight in beer - oh and the British girl came last! Andrew learnt a valuable lesson that Swedish people at the bar don't queue - when he suggested to a young girl that she had pushed in ahead of him, she responded by giving him a swift elbow to the eye socket resulting in a beautiful black eye. The good news is that my bro is now a biathlon convert and is looking forward to a trip to Antholz in 2013.
Ladies - I missed you, but I haven't yet written off Challenge 3 - Attend the Biathlon World Cup in Oslo (Ingrid), which is scheduled for February, although it, like everything else in my life at the moment, is 'flat dependent'.
Right, off to watch some more biathlon.
Now, don't worry, I haven't gone all 'Gok Wan' and purchased some golden footwear - although I do have a fine selection of colourful trainers. No, for those that don't remember, Diggi Loo, Diggi Ley was the winning song from the 1984 Eurovision Song Contest, sang by Swedish brothers 'Herrey's'. Look here they are...
...and to think, some people actually want the 80s back?!
When we last spoke (I know, it's been too long again), I was seeking 'a chitty' for three of my challenges, the first of which I detailed in the last post. I'm pleased to say that nobody cried 'foul' so I'm taking that as acceptance of my sidestep. The point of this particular ramble (amazingly, they do all have a point) is to seek your approval for a similar avoidance of Challenge 4 - Attend the Biathlon World Cup in Antholz (Ellen).
For the uninitated, biathlon is simply the greatest sport ever invented! It has few links to triathlon and absolutely nothing to do with Michael Barrymore. It is, instead, a combination of cross-country skiing and shooting. Essentially, you ski your nuts off (cross-country skiing is regarded as the most complete physical work out of any sport) and then, when you're body is shaking with fatigue, you have to shoot five targets, the size of a golf ball, from 50 metres. For each shot missed, you ski a penalty loop before heading out to do it all over again. It's a combination of athleticism, skill, mental strength and sheer excitement.
Now I know what you're thinking; 'Biathlon isn't that big in Putney' and you'd be right (although you can rollerski in Richmond Park), 'so how did you get into this, Craig - do tell' The answer is simple - drink. I discovered the sport, by chance, whilst nursing bad hangovers on Saturday mornings for it is a staple event on Eurosport. Within weeks I was hooked and within months Jam & I found ourselves up an Italian Alp in Antholz, Italy, enjoying the World Championships. Whilst we'd expected the spectacle of the sport to be good, there were a number of unexpected joys we discovered during this first trip:
1. Biathlon fans love the British - not something you can say in most sports, but then we tend to be competitive in most. In biathlon we are the perennial plucky losers. Our team, made up of hardy army types, lack the training, experience and equipment of the world's best biathlon nations (Norway, Germany, Russia, France and Sweden). As a result we can normally be found at the back of the field, battling the Serbians and the Lithuanians (miles behind the Estonians, Koreans and Bulgarians) - but, such is the physicality of the sport that our boys and girls still do us proud.
2. The cameraderie - biathlon fans are totally bonkers, but soooo friendly. Of course, everyone is rooting for their national team, but banners bearing phrases such as 'Biathlon Fans love all Biathletes' are common. Standing on a concrete step for three hours at minus six isn't particularly pleasant, so shot glasses are passed round, food shared and huddling is encouraged. Combine this with point one and we are generally treated like celebrities - people actually want to have their photo taken with us simply for being British?!
3.The drink - outside of the actual races, attending a biathlon is like being at the Oktoberfest. The moment the last biathlete has crossed the finish line (normally one of ours), everyone decamps to giant beer tents, where dodgy German bands attempt ambitious covers of classics whilst everyone dances on tables and benches. Meanwhile every waves their national flag like loons. This goes on for several hours before en masse, everyone heads to the nearest town / village for more beer.
It was during our second visit to Antholz where Piggy, Jam and I were fortunate enough to meet biathlon afficianados Ellen, Cathrine, Ingrid and Annika, four wonderful Norwegian friends, who volunteer in Antholz every year and who, we've since found out, are the organising committee of the Norwegian leg of the biathlon tour. Ellen, who's a nurse, expressed concern as to the well-being of Piggy, who was so drunk he could barely stand. At one point he wandered off suddenly. When I finally caught up with him, I asked him why he'd disappeared. 'It was too stuffy in there, I needed to get outside for some air' he replied. It was at that point we realised how much trouble he was in, as we had actually been outside - at minus four - the entire time! The train and bus journey to the stadium the following day, is one we'll never forget :-)
Our Norwegian friends bowled us over with their generosity. As well as being generally lovely, they got us into the 'plush' beer cabin, gave us a lift from the stadium, invited us to dinner, gave us Norwegian biathlon hats, gave me a biathlon annual (and you know how much I love a stat) and even secured us a meeting with the British Eurosport commentators. Here's a shot of us with Mike 'the legend' Dixon, commentator and Britain's best ever biathlete:
However, I don't want you to think that I take these challenges lightly and throw them away at a whim - everyone is considered carefully. Therefore, I decided to kill two birds with one stone and divert my annual biathlon trip to the Swedish round of the World Cup tour. Thus last weekend by big bro and I travelled up to the town of Ostersund (I'm reliably informed it's halfway up Sweden, but as far as I'm concerned it's practically the North Pole). And what a wonderful time we had -we saw some great racing, met some new members of the British Biathlon team (all members of the army -one ski'd for the first time three weeks previously?!) and drank our own bodyweight in beer - oh and the British girl came last! Andrew learnt a valuable lesson that Swedish people at the bar don't queue - when he suggested to a young girl that she had pushed in ahead of him, she responded by giving him a swift elbow to the eye socket resulting in a beautiful black eye. The good news is that my bro is now a biathlon convert and is looking forward to a trip to Antholz in 2013.
Ladies - I missed you, but I haven't yet written off Challenge 3 - Attend the Biathlon World Cup in Oslo (Ingrid), which is scheduled for February, although it, like everything else in my life at the moment, is 'flat dependent'.
Right, off to watch some more biathlon.
Monday, 21 November 2011
Day 183 (21 November 2011) - 'Half a sixpence...
...is better than half a farthing'
Whoever thought Tommy Steele would be responsible for such wise words eh? Yet, there is much to admire in his 'gor blimey guv'nor' delivery of 'Half a Sixpence' for sometimes there is value and merit in things which may appear to be fairly worthless (you can tell I'm building up to an excuse, can't you).
Half a Sixpence is one of those songs that everybody knows the first line to and not much else. Even I, a total saddo when it comes to song lyrics, had to look up the second line of the song to see exactly what Half a Sixpence was better than - personally I'd have had a punt at ricketts, but I guess that's why I'm not a songwriter. It set me thinking of other songs which, by and large, no-one knows the words to. I came up with the following (NB if it's just me, please humour me):
1. Snow - 'Informer' ('Informer, you know scheboogie boogie gonna blame a licky boom boom down')
2. The Singing Nun - 'Dominique':
3. Any fast Red Hot Chilli Peppers song - they only have the two tunes; the fast one (think Give it Away) and the slow one (think Under the Bridge)
4. Hanson - 'Mmmbop' ('Mmmbop, oochie, coochie, cock, doowop')
5. Dexys Midnight Runners - 'Come on Eileen'. Does ANYONE know the second line to this song? I'm almost convinced that they couldn't be bothered to write one and just garbled any old nonsense to bridge the gap to the chorus (for a real example of this in action, I can thoroughly recommend 'Chacarron' by El Chombo).
Anyway, back to the point of the post, namely that I'm seeking some dispensation on three of my challenges...well, if I'm going try and fudge one, I might as well go for a job lot. Your understanding would be greatly appreciated. For reasons of brevity - not a word you'd ever associate with me - I'm going to make each case in separate posts or we'll be here all week. So today's please for mercy goes as follows:
Challenge 1 - Abseil down the Royal Liverpool Hospital (Michelle)
I feel a bit like a child asking for an extension on his homework after it was due in, for this challenge took place in October and I was nowhere near Liverpool, let alone dangling off the side of the Hospital. My reasons for this were threefold - I had to work that weekend, I'm trying to save money so decided that a trip to Liverpool wasn't cost effective and (most importantly) Michelle has already backed out.
You'd be well within your rights, to ask me to throw myself off another fairly large building in the near future, if you do, may I request that this involves some ropes and a safety harness, please. I am, however, asking for clemency on the grounds that a few weeks I went indoor climbing for the first time, which involved a degree of abseiling back down the wall.
I have to be totally honest - clambouring up a wall wasn't my choice of how to spend a Wednesday afternoon, but myself and a colleague were taken by one our our event partners by way of a team building activity. They had originally suggested touch rugby, but I was slightly worried that I'd get too competitive and put in a thundering tackle on one of the lovely young ladies who we work with . OK, so I was equally worried that some large chap would deck me too - pretty much my sole memories of playing rugby at school (I quickly learnt to play scrum half - put the ball in the scrum, get it out and get rid of it as quickly as possible, before running in the other direction!) Having put Touch Rugby to bed, we were asked for our ideas of what we should do instead. Sadly my suggestion of bingo and a gin tasting didn't go down too well, so instead we found ourselves at the world's largest indoor climbing arena.
I don't know why I'd always put off climbing. I'm quite good with heights and generally quite fit, however I guess, much like skiing, it's the fear of what can go wrong, for I have possibly the lowest pain threshold of anyone in the western world - yes, I am one of those people who says 'Ooooowww' before I've even been touched! As a result it's one of those activities that never remotely appealed - much like wearing colourful trousers, listening to John Lennon or getting anything waxed. Yet, there I was in a pair of ridiculously tight shoes staring up at a 30ft wall
...and I really enjoyed it! Granted I found 'belaying' (standing at the bottom, controlling the tension of the climber's rope so that they don't crash to the ground) a bit stressful - it's a helluva responsibility - but the climbing itself was fun and I was surprisingly good at it, for a chap with little legs! In fact, I took to it so well, that in a race to the top I hammered the main guy from our event partner (maybe not the best business decision I've ever taken). OK, so he was on a slightly harder wall, but in my head I was a contestant on Gladiators and had Nightshade on my tail. Once you've reached the top, the only way down is to abseil back to terra firma, something I found tremendously fun (I may even have said 'weeeeeeeeeee' all the way down).
So, I didn't abseil down the side of the Royal Liverpool Hospital, but I have abseiled. Will this do?
Whoever thought Tommy Steele would be responsible for such wise words eh? Yet, there is much to admire in his 'gor blimey guv'nor' delivery of 'Half a Sixpence' for sometimes there is value and merit in things which may appear to be fairly worthless (you can tell I'm building up to an excuse, can't you).
Half a Sixpence is one of those songs that everybody knows the first line to and not much else. Even I, a total saddo when it comes to song lyrics, had to look up the second line of the song to see exactly what Half a Sixpence was better than - personally I'd have had a punt at ricketts, but I guess that's why I'm not a songwriter. It set me thinking of other songs which, by and large, no-one knows the words to. I came up with the following (NB if it's just me, please humour me):
1. Snow - 'Informer' ('Informer, you know scheboogie boogie gonna blame a licky boom boom down')
2. The Singing Nun - 'Dominique':
3. Any fast Red Hot Chilli Peppers song - they only have the two tunes; the fast one (think Give it Away) and the slow one (think Under the Bridge)
4. Hanson - 'Mmmbop' ('Mmmbop, oochie, coochie, cock, doowop')
5. Dexys Midnight Runners - 'Come on Eileen'. Does ANYONE know the second line to this song? I'm almost convinced that they couldn't be bothered to write one and just garbled any old nonsense to bridge the gap to the chorus (for a real example of this in action, I can thoroughly recommend 'Chacarron' by El Chombo).
Anyway, back to the point of the post, namely that I'm seeking some dispensation on three of my challenges...well, if I'm going try and fudge one, I might as well go for a job lot. Your understanding would be greatly appreciated. For reasons of brevity - not a word you'd ever associate with me - I'm going to make each case in separate posts or we'll be here all week. So today's please for mercy goes as follows:
Challenge 1 - Abseil down the Royal Liverpool Hospital (Michelle)
I feel a bit like a child asking for an extension on his homework after it was due in, for this challenge took place in October and I was nowhere near Liverpool, let alone dangling off the side of the Hospital. My reasons for this were threefold - I had to work that weekend, I'm trying to save money so decided that a trip to Liverpool wasn't cost effective and (most importantly) Michelle has already backed out.
You'd be well within your rights, to ask me to throw myself off another fairly large building in the near future, if you do, may I request that this involves some ropes and a safety harness, please. I am, however, asking for clemency on the grounds that a few weeks I went indoor climbing for the first time, which involved a degree of abseiling back down the wall.
I have to be totally honest - clambouring up a wall wasn't my choice of how to spend a Wednesday afternoon, but myself and a colleague were taken by one our our event partners by way of a team building activity. They had originally suggested touch rugby, but I was slightly worried that I'd get too competitive and put in a thundering tackle on one of the lovely young ladies who we work with . OK, so I was equally worried that some large chap would deck me too - pretty much my sole memories of playing rugby at school (I quickly learnt to play scrum half - put the ball in the scrum, get it out and get rid of it as quickly as possible, before running in the other direction!) Having put Touch Rugby to bed, we were asked for our ideas of what we should do instead. Sadly my suggestion of bingo and a gin tasting didn't go down too well, so instead we found ourselves at the world's largest indoor climbing arena.
I don't know why I'd always put off climbing. I'm quite good with heights and generally quite fit, however I guess, much like skiing, it's the fear of what can go wrong, for I have possibly the lowest pain threshold of anyone in the western world - yes, I am one of those people who says 'Ooooowww' before I've even been touched! As a result it's one of those activities that never remotely appealed - much like wearing colourful trousers, listening to John Lennon or getting anything waxed. Yet, there I was in a pair of ridiculously tight shoes staring up at a 30ft wall
...and I really enjoyed it! Granted I found 'belaying' (standing at the bottom, controlling the tension of the climber's rope so that they don't crash to the ground) a bit stressful - it's a helluva responsibility - but the climbing itself was fun and I was surprisingly good at it, for a chap with little legs! In fact, I took to it so well, that in a race to the top I hammered the main guy from our event partner (maybe not the best business decision I've ever taken). OK, so he was on a slightly harder wall, but in my head I was a contestant on Gladiators and had Nightshade on my tail. Once you've reached the top, the only way down is to abseil back to terra firma, something I found tremendously fun (I may even have said 'weeeeeeeeeee' all the way down).
So, I didn't abseil down the side of the Royal Liverpool Hospital, but I have abseiled. Will this do?
Wednesday, 9 November 2011
Day 171 (9 November 2011) - 'Mind Blowing Decisions
...causes head-on collisions'
In a work situation I can make handle big decisions. I sensibly decide the information I need to make a decision, collate that information, make sound assumptions for any missing bits, weigh up the various options and the risks associated with each, mix it with a bit of gut instinct and eventually (and usually quickly) reach a decision. I use the same approach when friends ask me for advice and like to think that I'm someone who can be relied on to dispense sound, honest and impartial counsel.
So why is it, when it comes to making decision about my personal life I invariably tie myself up in all sorts of knots, invariably jump to the worst-case scenarios and allow myself to become almost paralysed with fear. It was one of the reasons I started this blog - to prove to myself, through your very kind help - that I could approach personal 'stuff' with the same confidence as I do at work or when meddling in the lives of others!
I think I've done alright up to now, resisting the urge to say 'no' when faced with unfamiliar situations I would usually have run a mile from and have, on occasions, deliberatly thrown myself into tasks and challenges which have scared me.
Quite why my default approach to big life decisions is to simply panic is unclear. Maybe, being the youngest of three children, I was overly protected when growing up and always had my parents or my big brothers to make things OK. As an adult I've always had someone I can rely on to make things happen, whether it be Katie at university - one of my oldest friends who did the same course as me and ended up as my housemate; my brother, when I moved to London - I moved into his flat, where I stayed for five years; or the ex who always took care of the big decisions such as where we lived, I've spent my entire life being surrounded by people who would always 'make it alright' or at least give the feeling that they would!
Why am I raising this now? I've got to make a huge decision about whether to buy a flat. Well, not whether to buy one, because I know this is something I want to do. I've also managed to sort of work out my brief - two bedrooms (so I can rent one out, if required), in need of little work (I can barely change a lightbulb) and must have a bath - that's not too much to ask for, is it? The big issue is where this flat will be. My instinct is drawing me to my lovely old Putney, where I have lived so happily for the last eight years. It's convenient for transport links, has the river and Richmond Park on its doorstep (so is perfect for running), has the lowest council tax in the country and - perhaps least importantly - is safe, secure and familiar...and yet it's this latter point which keeps drawing me back.
Sadly, however, I'm not the only person to recognise the benefits of Putney, so as a result, it's ridiculously expensive - so expensive that most of the properties which meet my brief, don't meet my budget. As a result I've spent the last few weeks looking at some pretty nasty flats and slowly moving my search further and further away from central Putney - hey, but not too far away, that would be reckless!
Finally, on Saturday, I saw a nice two-bed property in Southfields which was lovely once insde, but was housed in a 1960s purpose built concrete block. 'It's OK' I thought, 'it's the inside you're going to be looking at', so having been suitably impressed, the new confident, decisive me put a cheeky, non-negotiable offer in that afternoon.
...except it's been accepted. This should excite me - and I am pleased that my assertive, no-nonsense approach paid off - but any excitement has been completely overwhelmed by the old-style panic. 'What if I'm making a terrible mistake', 'what if there are loads of hidden problems?', 'what happens if I lose my job or get sick?', 'what happens if my neighbours turn out to be some sort of neighbourhood protection racket?'. Financially I'm worried by the lack of contingency, for although I shall be paying the mortgage off every month, buying a flat anywhere near Putney is going to leave me with no 'rainy day' fund and I'll have little surplus cash each month - a situation I assume most homeowners face.
I've had a walk round the area this evening and am beginning to think I'm making a bad mistake - whilst it's privately owned, it's totally surrounded by an enormous council estate - think the Jasmine Allen on The Bill. It is, however, a nice flat inside and, having researched crime stats, there doesn't appear to be any major issues. Whilst my instinct is to back out, there is the fact that if I want to be all snobbish about it, I might well have to moved further out into a completely new area, which is also a risk! Can this beggar really be a chooser? How do you know what to do in these situations?
I guess what it ultimately comes down to is the fact that, whilst I have loads of great friends dispensing all sorts of advice, this decision, this great, big , scary decision, is mine alone to make and for once, and possibly the first time, there's no-one who can 'make it alright' if I get it wrong. On one hand I've never felt so empowered, but on the other, I've never felt quite so alone. Based on this, am I going to feel like this about any flat I see? Right now, I don't quite know how I'm going to resolve this - a coin seems a good a bet as any - , but I now realise that therein lies the beating heart of this whole blog and this whole challenging year thing. How do I learn to be more rational rather than panic and how do I learn to trust myself and my own ability to 'make it alright' rather than needing the ressurance of others. If I can resolve this, surely I can resolve anything? Can't I?
In a work situation I can make handle big decisions. I sensibly decide the information I need to make a decision, collate that information, make sound assumptions for any missing bits, weigh up the various options and the risks associated with each, mix it with a bit of gut instinct and eventually (and usually quickly) reach a decision. I use the same approach when friends ask me for advice and like to think that I'm someone who can be relied on to dispense sound, honest and impartial counsel.
So why is it, when it comes to making decision about my personal life I invariably tie myself up in all sorts of knots, invariably jump to the worst-case scenarios and allow myself to become almost paralysed with fear. It was one of the reasons I started this blog - to prove to myself, through your very kind help - that I could approach personal 'stuff' with the same confidence as I do at work or when meddling in the lives of others!
I think I've done alright up to now, resisting the urge to say 'no' when faced with unfamiliar situations I would usually have run a mile from and have, on occasions, deliberatly thrown myself into tasks and challenges which have scared me.
Quite why my default approach to big life decisions is to simply panic is unclear. Maybe, being the youngest of three children, I was overly protected when growing up and always had my parents or my big brothers to make things OK. As an adult I've always had someone I can rely on to make things happen, whether it be Katie at university - one of my oldest friends who did the same course as me and ended up as my housemate; my brother, when I moved to London - I moved into his flat, where I stayed for five years; or the ex who always took care of the big decisions such as where we lived, I've spent my entire life being surrounded by people who would always 'make it alright' or at least give the feeling that they would!
Why am I raising this now? I've got to make a huge decision about whether to buy a flat. Well, not whether to buy one, because I know this is something I want to do. I've also managed to sort of work out my brief - two bedrooms (so I can rent one out, if required), in need of little work (I can barely change a lightbulb) and must have a bath - that's not too much to ask for, is it? The big issue is where this flat will be. My instinct is drawing me to my lovely old Putney, where I have lived so happily for the last eight years. It's convenient for transport links, has the river and Richmond Park on its doorstep (so is perfect for running), has the lowest council tax in the country and - perhaps least importantly - is safe, secure and familiar...and yet it's this latter point which keeps drawing me back.
Sadly, however, I'm not the only person to recognise the benefits of Putney, so as a result, it's ridiculously expensive - so expensive that most of the properties which meet my brief, don't meet my budget. As a result I've spent the last few weeks looking at some pretty nasty flats and slowly moving my search further and further away from central Putney - hey, but not too far away, that would be reckless!
Finally, on Saturday, I saw a nice two-bed property in Southfields which was lovely once insde, but was housed in a 1960s purpose built concrete block. 'It's OK' I thought, 'it's the inside you're going to be looking at', so having been suitably impressed, the new confident, decisive me put a cheeky, non-negotiable offer in that afternoon.
...except it's been accepted. This should excite me - and I am pleased that my assertive, no-nonsense approach paid off - but any excitement has been completely overwhelmed by the old-style panic. 'What if I'm making a terrible mistake', 'what if there are loads of hidden problems?', 'what happens if I lose my job or get sick?', 'what happens if my neighbours turn out to be some sort of neighbourhood protection racket?'. Financially I'm worried by the lack of contingency, for although I shall be paying the mortgage off every month, buying a flat anywhere near Putney is going to leave me with no 'rainy day' fund and I'll have little surplus cash each month - a situation I assume most homeowners face.
I've had a walk round the area this evening and am beginning to think I'm making a bad mistake - whilst it's privately owned, it's totally surrounded by an enormous council estate - think the Jasmine Allen on The Bill. It is, however, a nice flat inside and, having researched crime stats, there doesn't appear to be any major issues. Whilst my instinct is to back out, there is the fact that if I want to be all snobbish about it, I might well have to moved further out into a completely new area, which is also a risk! Can this beggar really be a chooser? How do you know what to do in these situations?
I guess what it ultimately comes down to is the fact that, whilst I have loads of great friends dispensing all sorts of advice, this decision, this great, big , scary decision, is mine alone to make and for once, and possibly the first time, there's no-one who can 'make it alright' if I get it wrong. On one hand I've never felt so empowered, but on the other, I've never felt quite so alone. Based on this, am I going to feel like this about any flat I see? Right now, I don't quite know how I'm going to resolve this - a coin seems a good a bet as any - , but I now realise that therein lies the beating heart of this whole blog and this whole challenging year thing. How do I learn to be more rational rather than panic and how do I learn to trust myself and my own ability to 'make it alright' rather than needing the ressurance of others. If I can resolve this, surely I can resolve anything? Can't I?
Monday, 31 October 2011
Day 161 (30th October 2011) - Why you wanna put stars in their eyes?
...or as Roger Mellie used to call it 'Marbles up their Arseholes'!
OK, so this blog is supposed to be about my various challenges, however it's 'my gaff, my rules', so if I want to discuss the pros and cons of quantitative easing, the various merits of Monet vs Degas or the use of sleep as a metaphor in Shakespeare, then I shall.
...and I'm sure I'll get on to each of those subjects at some stage throughout the year. In the meantime, you can have my list of random irritations about the X-Factor!
I confess to having a love / hate relationship with the X-Factor. Every year I promise myself I'm not going to watch it and every year I end up getting hooked from about Boot Camp onwards. I find the auditions a bit tedious - 'and just when the judges thought the day was a total waste, along came xxxx (insert name with random sob story)'; repeat x number of episodes - and I find many of the contestants...well...a bit sad, really. You know, the ones we're all supposed to laugh at for being so deluded; the same ones who often appear to have very little going for them in life other than the fact they have a dream to escape their existence and see the X Factor as a possible chance to do so? (since when did I develop a conscience?). But when it gets to Boot Camp and Judges Houses, however, I'm in there like a tramp on chips and remain that way until, ooh, about episode five of the live shows, when I start to get a bit bored. By Christmas I'm totally over it...until the next year.
At the moment, I'm on that cusp of being totally hooked but beginning to emerge from the all-encompassing obession like a squirrel emerging from hibernation (I could have easily said beaver, but you lot aren't to be trusted on that one). Thus far it's been quite fun. Things I have particularly enjoyed about this year's show include:
Anyway, the purpose of this post is to get these X-Factor irritations off my chest, once and for all. Ladies and Gentlemen, your X-Factor rant starts right here (does a little twirl a la Dermot). In no particular order:
1. Frankie - what a talentless little pr*ck he is. Can barely sing, has all the charisma of haemorrhoids and has as much attitude as Sister Wendy. 'I went out again last night. I know Gary's going to be cross' Yes, so much so that he sent an entire film crew with you. No-one has six girls names tattooed on their arse cos they're 'hard' or they're 'cool'. No, they do it to get noticed, because they don't have the confidence in who they are as a person to think people will be interested in who they are and what they have to say. In many cases you can sympathise, but when they overcompensate to the extent this little turd has, then quite frankly sympathy goes out the window. You just know there are a number of drug suppliers rubbing their greasy little paws together as the propect of encountering Frankie.
2. PR by numbers. 'Simon's livid with the viewing figures', 'the judges are all getting sacked', 'the judges have had a big fall out', 'xxx was bully', 'yyy was a victim of bullying', 'zzz is sleeping with bbb'. Yawn. We can all see through the big PR machine, because you attempt to feed us the same stories EVERY YEAR - right back to Pop Idol when Will Young was 'rumoured to be dating' Hayley Evetts. Try to come up with something original! It's boring and totally seethrough. Why not go for something totally outlandish along the lines of 'Louis Walsh admits he's gay' or 'Kelly admits she hasn't spoken to her acts since Boot Camp' or 'Simon Cowell admits he's gay' or 'whilst the other judges are on £500k each, Tulisa gets her busfair and a 1998 trance CD'
3. Ashford - just die!!!! And no, I don't mean literally, but for goodness sake he's like ruddy Batfink! Chance #1 - Boot Camp. Not good enough. Voted off. Chance #2 - resurfaces in Nu Vibe. Not good enough. Voted off. Chance #3 - resurfaces in The Risk. For the love of God, will no-one get the message? What has this boy got over Cowell that, like herpes, he keeps coming back! If I was Kelly I'd rush back from LA pretty sharpish cos I'm expecting to see Ashford in her chair as soon as The Risk are voted off
4. Kelly's sickie - as acting performances go it was right up there with Mariah Carey's turn in Glitter (if you haven't seen this, I insist you watch it, but do so in the company of friends and lots of alcohol). As much as I love the Rowland (if only for the fact she's not Cheryl), c'mon love! You only have to sit there for an hour and say 'you brought it' five times and 'you need to take it up a notch' four times, you're not being asked to clear the studio of asbestos! Quite frankly if one of the judges can't be bothered to show up, I'm not sure I can be bothered to watch
5. Frankie's hair - No. Excuse. For. That. Barnet.
6. Mischa B's insincerity - easily the most talented act on the show, but looks as trustworthy as an Italian in a war (apologies to any Italian's who might be offended by that). Not to be crossed, that one.
7. Janet - now I'm sure she's lovely, however listening to the judges you've have thought we'd discovered the lovechild of John Lennon and Madonna. I know I'm no Andrew Lloyd Webber (thank heavens), but to me she just sounds a bit dull and a bit...well...out of tune.
8. Frankie's facial hair - I'm not even sure what to call it. Moustache - definitely not. Stubble - hardly. Whatever it is, someone must surely have a word
9. The groups - what's the point of entering the X Factor as a group anymore? You won't make it through, cos ultimately they'll simply manufacture some new ones and foist them onto the show - and now they've even started manufacturing the manufactured bands! Looking at the dross that's left now, how sorely missed are Two Shoes.
10. Charlie from The Risk - it's not all about you! Guess the signs were there when he dumped his previous bandmates quicker than you could say 'treachorous turncoat', however his inability to let any of his new bandmates speak when asked a question is tedious beyond belief
11. Frankie's lack of socks. For one week, just buy him a pair
12. Gary selecting Craig as the performance of the week every week - OK he can sing, but he's totally forgettable. If he wasn't large, he wouldn't have made it.
And breathe. Phew, I feel better for that. Of course, it's not all bad- yet! I'm liking Kitty, Marcus and Little Mix more every week (loved Little Mix's Extra Terrestrial this week), but still think it's between Mischa B and The Risk for the win (although the bookies are backing Janet quite heavily)...and it's still my must-watch TV of the week (for the time being).
Right, best go and practice my Engelbert Humperdinck for next year's auditions!
If you've been affected by anything you've read in this post and wish to add your X-Factor loves / hates, feel free to comment below.
OK, so this blog is supposed to be about my various challenges, however it's 'my gaff, my rules', so if I want to discuss the pros and cons of quantitative easing, the various merits of Monet vs Degas or the use of sleep as a metaphor in Shakespeare, then I shall.
...and I'm sure I'll get on to each of those subjects at some stage throughout the year. In the meantime, you can have my list of random irritations about the X-Factor!
I confess to having a love / hate relationship with the X-Factor. Every year I promise myself I'm not going to watch it and every year I end up getting hooked from about Boot Camp onwards. I find the auditions a bit tedious - 'and just when the judges thought the day was a total waste, along came xxxx (insert name with random sob story)'; repeat x number of episodes - and I find many of the contestants...well...a bit sad, really. You know, the ones we're all supposed to laugh at for being so deluded; the same ones who often appear to have very little going for them in life other than the fact they have a dream to escape their existence and see the X Factor as a possible chance to do so? (since when did I develop a conscience?). But when it gets to Boot Camp and Judges Houses, however, I'm in there like a tramp on chips and remain that way until, ooh, about episode five of the live shows, when I start to get a bit bored. By Christmas I'm totally over it...until the next year.
At the moment, I'm on that cusp of being totally hooked but beginning to emerge from the all-encompassing obession like a squirrel emerging from hibernation (I could have easily said beaver, but you lot aren't to be trusted on that one). Thus far it's been quite fun. Things I have particularly enjoyed about this year's show include:
- No Simon Cowell. He just always looked bored, frankly and you always felt that the show wasn't about the contestants but was solely about him...
- ...and Biffa Cole, who I'm also missing about as much as ricketts. The moment she said Cher Lloyd was 'right up her street' she reminded us that rather than the carefully manufactured nation's sweetheart, she'll always be that rough Geordie lass who took her mules to a toilet attendant over the price of a couple of Haribo or something.
- Two Shoes - 'totes emosh Derm' will live on forever
- The way Peter Dixon says 'Sophie Habibas'
- Kelly Rowland - love Destiny's Child and love the Rowland
- No Brian Friedman. His shrunken head always scared me
- Two Shoes - the running lipstick
- The fact that a number of the acts are of a similar standard making it harder to predict who's going and who's staying
- Goldie - the greatest contestant the X Factor has ever seen. As mad as a box of frogs
- Two Shoes - the greatest group the X Factor has ever seen. As mad as a box of frogs
- Tulisa- a pleasant surprise! Thought I was going to hate her. I don't!
- Kitty - not the greatest contestant the X Factor has ever seen. But still as mad as a box of frogs and very watchable - particularly her heavily botoxed forehead.
Anyway, the purpose of this post is to get these X-Factor irritations off my chest, once and for all. Ladies and Gentlemen, your X-Factor rant starts right here (does a little twirl a la Dermot). In no particular order:
1. Frankie - what a talentless little pr*ck he is. Can barely sing, has all the charisma of haemorrhoids and has as much attitude as Sister Wendy. 'I went out again last night. I know Gary's going to be cross' Yes, so much so that he sent an entire film crew with you. No-one has six girls names tattooed on their arse cos they're 'hard' or they're 'cool'. No, they do it to get noticed, because they don't have the confidence in who they are as a person to think people will be interested in who they are and what they have to say. In many cases you can sympathise, but when they overcompensate to the extent this little turd has, then quite frankly sympathy goes out the window. You just know there are a number of drug suppliers rubbing their greasy little paws together as the propect of encountering Frankie.
2. PR by numbers. 'Simon's livid with the viewing figures', 'the judges are all getting sacked', 'the judges have had a big fall out', 'xxx was bully', 'yyy was a victim of bullying', 'zzz is sleeping with bbb'. Yawn. We can all see through the big PR machine, because you attempt to feed us the same stories EVERY YEAR - right back to Pop Idol when Will Young was 'rumoured to be dating' Hayley Evetts. Try to come up with something original! It's boring and totally seethrough. Why not go for something totally outlandish along the lines of 'Louis Walsh admits he's gay' or 'Kelly admits she hasn't spoken to her acts since Boot Camp' or 'Simon Cowell admits he's gay' or 'whilst the other judges are on £500k each, Tulisa gets her busfair and a 1998 trance CD'
3. Ashford - just die!!!! And no, I don't mean literally, but for goodness sake he's like ruddy Batfink! Chance #1 - Boot Camp. Not good enough. Voted off. Chance #2 - resurfaces in Nu Vibe. Not good enough. Voted off. Chance #3 - resurfaces in The Risk. For the love of God, will no-one get the message? What has this boy got over Cowell that, like herpes, he keeps coming back! If I was Kelly I'd rush back from LA pretty sharpish cos I'm expecting to see Ashford in her chair as soon as The Risk are voted off
4. Kelly's sickie - as acting performances go it was right up there with Mariah Carey's turn in Glitter (if you haven't seen this, I insist you watch it, but do so in the company of friends and lots of alcohol). As much as I love the Rowland (if only for the fact she's not Cheryl), c'mon love! You only have to sit there for an hour and say 'you brought it' five times and 'you need to take it up a notch' four times, you're not being asked to clear the studio of asbestos! Quite frankly if one of the judges can't be bothered to show up, I'm not sure I can be bothered to watch
5. Frankie's hair - No. Excuse. For. That. Barnet.
6. Mischa B's insincerity - easily the most talented act on the show, but looks as trustworthy as an Italian in a war (apologies to any Italian's who might be offended by that). Not to be crossed, that one.
7. Janet - now I'm sure she's lovely, however listening to the judges you've have thought we'd discovered the lovechild of John Lennon and Madonna. I know I'm no Andrew Lloyd Webber (thank heavens), but to me she just sounds a bit dull and a bit...well...out of tune.
8. Frankie's facial hair - I'm not even sure what to call it. Moustache - definitely not. Stubble - hardly. Whatever it is, someone must surely have a word
9. The groups - what's the point of entering the X Factor as a group anymore? You won't make it through, cos ultimately they'll simply manufacture some new ones and foist them onto the show - and now they've even started manufacturing the manufactured bands! Looking at the dross that's left now, how sorely missed are Two Shoes.
10. Charlie from The Risk - it's not all about you! Guess the signs were there when he dumped his previous bandmates quicker than you could say 'treachorous turncoat', however his inability to let any of his new bandmates speak when asked a question is tedious beyond belief
11. Frankie's lack of socks. For one week, just buy him a pair
12. Gary selecting Craig as the performance of the week every week - OK he can sing, but he's totally forgettable. If he wasn't large, he wouldn't have made it.
And breathe. Phew, I feel better for that. Of course, it's not all bad- yet! I'm liking Kitty, Marcus and Little Mix more every week (loved Little Mix's Extra Terrestrial this week), but still think it's between Mischa B and The Risk for the win (although the bookies are backing Janet quite heavily)...and it's still my must-watch TV of the week (for the time being).
Right, best go and practice my Engelbert Humperdinck for next year's auditions!
If you've been affected by anything you've read in this post and wish to add your X-Factor loves / hates, feel free to comment below.
Sunday, 23 October 2011
Day 154 (23 October 2011) - We're Livin' on the Edge...
...livin' on the edge'
When did life get so expensive?
I'm sitting here, having finally seen a couple of flats which look remotely habitable, trying to work out which one of the two, if either, I can afford. One is slightly over my budget, but is a leasehold property, so has a service charge of £100 per month; the other is within my budget but has a share of freehold and has a service charge of nearly £200 per month. On paper it's only £100 but when taken in the context of all the other bills and expenses we have nowadays, £100 is a lot - particularly as I have nothing but a chest of drawers and a mattress by way of furniture so will have to find a way of furnishing the flat. I have considered pretending I'm going for the minimalist look and just getting in a couple of beanbags, but I am 37 so do require a proper, comfortable bed and somewhere to hang my clothes as the very least.
Thinking about how much money I'm going to need each month has made me realise just how ludicroudly expensive life has become. I earn a good salary and have a big deposit and yet I'm finding this flat-buying experience ruddy difficult. How on earth do most people in London manage? I look around my wonderful team sometimes and think 'you're going to have to move out to get a place of your own' - and, indeed, two of them already have, choosing to face daily commutes in from Leighton Buzzard and Towcester respectively. Towcester!!! - that's practically Birmingham. Ok, this has enabled them to buy a property but they're then faced with annual travel bills of £3,000+ for the rights to wedge their nostrils into someone's sweaty armpits every morning.
Of course I could join them (not literally) and move further out, but I LOVE London and don't just want it to be a place I work. I want to be able to feel the buzz in the evening, to get lost in new and exciting parts at weekends and it's still the place where I find the biggest concentration of my friends. That doesn't meant that I couldn't move to cheaper areas, but I'm reluctant to do this. As everyone who knows me will know, I love a bit of security, to be surrounded by safe and familiar people and places. I've found it hard enough accepting that I can't live in Putney and might have to be a mile or two down the road, so suddenly upping sticks to Beckton or Hackney or Surbiton just feels wrong.
Added to this is typical male pride. It's bad enough being dumped, but to have to then give up most of the rest of your previously happy life, and disappear into the sunset to the other side of town away from friends and familiarity is just rubbing salt in the wounds, frankly. Yes, I could have a spanking flat, but I don't want to spend every evening sitting in it thinking about all the fun everyone else is having without me!
It's bizarre when you think about it. London is filled with thousands of homes. Every day I walk down streets, roads and closes and think 'I could live here' and yet I can't even begin to afford most of them. Who's buying them all? Maybe they're all filled with pensioners who have lived there for sixty years, unaware of the value of the bricks and mortar around them? I know a lot of people blame bankers, but having lived with one for eight years whilst I can confirm that they do live in a different stratosphere financially and although they are all lovely people, have little idea what the average person on the street goes through, even they can't afford to go round hoovering up properties like my Mother buying cardigans at an M&S sale.
So, staying around the are is more expensive. So, faced with this property conundrum, I've been looking into my potential outgoings to see where I can potentially make savings. Of course, there are some things you just can't be without. In priority order these include:
1. Sky TV - an absolute must. I watch Eurosport and Sky Sports more than any other channels. OK, I can compromise on Movies, which I never watch, but this still comes in at £52 a month with broadband and Sky + (which I place marginally ahead of the wheel in all-time greatest inventions)
2. National Lottery - I've played the same two lines for every lottery draw since its inception. If I stopped playing, I would still find myself checking the numbers every draw, so I can't take the risk. £18 a month
3. Electricity - required to power Sky and the TV. Lighting also a bonus as is the ability to power other applicances. £30 a month
4. Gas - heating is good. I don't like the cold or being cold. And I can't knit £40 a month
5. Water -very useful for someone who likes having a bath. Quite like being able to flush the loo too. £25 a month
6. TV Licence - apparently illegal not to have one, although I'd like to know what the BBC have done with all the dosh they made from pimpingTinky Winky et al around the world. £15 a month
7. Mobile Phone - £26 a month contract. I'm clevely limited from spending too much more by the fact the ruddy thing doesn't get a signal in most of the western world
8. Contact lenses - £25 a month. Required for two reasons: I can't see through my glasses as they're no longer strong enough, but can't afford a new pair and I'm single - few people actively prefer a 'speccy twat'
9. Home Insurance - a potential saving. For if I have no furniture I don't anything to insure. Hmm, could be a cunning plan here. If I do get it it's c. £50 a month due to having made a claim recently - having added Piggy to my policy he promptly got his £2,000 bike nicked the following day.
10. Life insurance - £25 a month. I took this out to cover my half of the mortgage on the previous property so that the ex wouldn't get clobbered for my half of the mortgage. Given it's just me now, do I still need this? A potential saving. Hoorah!
11. Gym membership - £51 a month. I'm short and nearly 40. This means that I only have to walk past a chocolate eclair and I put on a pound. Again this is linked to being single - single people can't afford to be fat! And yes I do use it!
12. Haircut - currently £38 a month, comprising £33 fee and £5 tip. I picked this up from the ex who convined me it was rude not to tip a hairdresser at least £5. Frankly, this strikes me as being overly generous. Do you tip your hairdresser? If so, how much? If not, do they extract their revenge next time by giving you a buble perm you didn't ask for or accidentally losing the blade on the clippers and giving you a Grade 0 line? Again, being single I can't afford to have a mullet. Should I risk a go at Mr Toppers for £7?
13. Macmillan Christmas Club - £50. This is a scheme run by colleagues at work which is essentially a savings scheme which makes Christmas more doable, by spreading the cost throughout the year.
...add on a council tax (£60), and the small matter of the mortgage - I can only get a repayment mortgage as I don't have a 55% deposit (WTF) - and suddenly the issue of the service charge becomes important.
And then there's the 'discretionary' spend the bit that's left over after all of the above for everything else. Of course you can always cut back, but there's only so many jacket potatoes a man can eat. Similarly, being single means that any social interaction requires going out - and you can hardly go out and drink lime and soda can you? Certainly not when there's a recession on and we all need to put more money into the economy. In all seriousness, my days of 8 holidays a year have long gone. I think I shall be lucky to get one from now on.
So, what have I concluded from all these musings? Well, it can be summed up as follows:
- Life is expensive
- Being single is ridiculously expensive
- I'm going to have to make cutbacks - friends empathy would be appreciated...'please come to dinner on Friday, we've booked a table at the Fat Duck' would just be plain mean. I should point out that, no, this doesn't mean that if you invite me round I'm rocking up with Asda's own Bucks Fizz, but it does mean that the days of buying Veuve have now passed. I will be taking advantage of 'offer's so be warned!
- If I'm going to own a home, I'm going to have to live on the edge of financial security, something I'm not overly comfortable with. Actually this scares the hell out of me
- I'm not going to have much furniture. Everyone is always welcome to visit - I'd love to see you - but you may be sitting on the floor.
- Renting my second bedroom out would make a real difference - but it has to be to someone I know, or someone who knows someone I know! Know anyone who might be interested?
So, based on the above, should I take the plunge and put an offer in? Eeeeeeek!
When did life get so expensive?
I'm sitting here, having finally seen a couple of flats which look remotely habitable, trying to work out which one of the two, if either, I can afford. One is slightly over my budget, but is a leasehold property, so has a service charge of £100 per month; the other is within my budget but has a share of freehold and has a service charge of nearly £200 per month. On paper it's only £100 but when taken in the context of all the other bills and expenses we have nowadays, £100 is a lot - particularly as I have nothing but a chest of drawers and a mattress by way of furniture so will have to find a way of furnishing the flat. I have considered pretending I'm going for the minimalist look and just getting in a couple of beanbags, but I am 37 so do require a proper, comfortable bed and somewhere to hang my clothes as the very least.
Thinking about how much money I'm going to need each month has made me realise just how ludicroudly expensive life has become. I earn a good salary and have a big deposit and yet I'm finding this flat-buying experience ruddy difficult. How on earth do most people in London manage? I look around my wonderful team sometimes and think 'you're going to have to move out to get a place of your own' - and, indeed, two of them already have, choosing to face daily commutes in from Leighton Buzzard and Towcester respectively. Towcester!!! - that's practically Birmingham. Ok, this has enabled them to buy a property but they're then faced with annual travel bills of £3,000+ for the rights to wedge their nostrils into someone's sweaty armpits every morning.
Of course I could join them (not literally) and move further out, but I LOVE London and don't just want it to be a place I work. I want to be able to feel the buzz in the evening, to get lost in new and exciting parts at weekends and it's still the place where I find the biggest concentration of my friends. That doesn't meant that I couldn't move to cheaper areas, but I'm reluctant to do this. As everyone who knows me will know, I love a bit of security, to be surrounded by safe and familiar people and places. I've found it hard enough accepting that I can't live in Putney and might have to be a mile or two down the road, so suddenly upping sticks to Beckton or Hackney or Surbiton just feels wrong.
Added to this is typical male pride. It's bad enough being dumped, but to have to then give up most of the rest of your previously happy life, and disappear into the sunset to the other side of town away from friends and familiarity is just rubbing salt in the wounds, frankly. Yes, I could have a spanking flat, but I don't want to spend every evening sitting in it thinking about all the fun everyone else is having without me!
It's bizarre when you think about it. London is filled with thousands of homes. Every day I walk down streets, roads and closes and think 'I could live here' and yet I can't even begin to afford most of them. Who's buying them all? Maybe they're all filled with pensioners who have lived there for sixty years, unaware of the value of the bricks and mortar around them? I know a lot of people blame bankers, but having lived with one for eight years whilst I can confirm that they do live in a different stratosphere financially and although they are all lovely people, have little idea what the average person on the street goes through, even they can't afford to go round hoovering up properties like my Mother buying cardigans at an M&S sale.
So, staying around the are is more expensive. So, faced with this property conundrum, I've been looking into my potential outgoings to see where I can potentially make savings. Of course, there are some things you just can't be without. In priority order these include:
1. Sky TV - an absolute must. I watch Eurosport and Sky Sports more than any other channels. OK, I can compromise on Movies, which I never watch, but this still comes in at £52 a month with broadband and Sky + (which I place marginally ahead of the wheel in all-time greatest inventions)
2. National Lottery - I've played the same two lines for every lottery draw since its inception. If I stopped playing, I would still find myself checking the numbers every draw, so I can't take the risk. £18 a month
3. Electricity - required to power Sky and the TV. Lighting also a bonus as is the ability to power other applicances. £30 a month
4. Gas - heating is good. I don't like the cold or being cold. And I can't knit £40 a month
5. Water -very useful for someone who likes having a bath. Quite like being able to flush the loo too. £25 a month
6. TV Licence - apparently illegal not to have one, although I'd like to know what the BBC have done with all the dosh they made from pimpingTinky Winky et al around the world. £15 a month
7. Mobile Phone - £26 a month contract. I'm clevely limited from spending too much more by the fact the ruddy thing doesn't get a signal in most of the western world
8. Contact lenses - £25 a month. Required for two reasons: I can't see through my glasses as they're no longer strong enough, but can't afford a new pair and I'm single - few people actively prefer a 'speccy twat'
9. Home Insurance - a potential saving. For if I have no furniture I don't anything to insure. Hmm, could be a cunning plan here. If I do get it it's c. £50 a month due to having made a claim recently - having added Piggy to my policy he promptly got his £2,000 bike nicked the following day.
10. Life insurance - £25 a month. I took this out to cover my half of the mortgage on the previous property so that the ex wouldn't get clobbered for my half of the mortgage. Given it's just me now, do I still need this? A potential saving. Hoorah!
11. Gym membership - £51 a month. I'm short and nearly 40. This means that I only have to walk past a chocolate eclair and I put on a pound. Again this is linked to being single - single people can't afford to be fat! And yes I do use it!
12. Haircut - currently £38 a month, comprising £33 fee and £5 tip. I picked this up from the ex who convined me it was rude not to tip a hairdresser at least £5. Frankly, this strikes me as being overly generous. Do you tip your hairdresser? If so, how much? If not, do they extract their revenge next time by giving you a buble perm you didn't ask for or accidentally losing the blade on the clippers and giving you a Grade 0 line? Again, being single I can't afford to have a mullet. Should I risk a go at Mr Toppers for £7?
13. Macmillan Christmas Club - £50. This is a scheme run by colleagues at work which is essentially a savings scheme which makes Christmas more doable, by spreading the cost throughout the year.
...add on a council tax (£60), and the small matter of the mortgage - I can only get a repayment mortgage as I don't have a 55% deposit (WTF) - and suddenly the issue of the service charge becomes important.
And then there's the 'discretionary' spend the bit that's left over after all of the above for everything else. Of course you can always cut back, but there's only so many jacket potatoes a man can eat. Similarly, being single means that any social interaction requires going out - and you can hardly go out and drink lime and soda can you? Certainly not when there's a recession on and we all need to put more money into the economy. In all seriousness, my days of 8 holidays a year have long gone. I think I shall be lucky to get one from now on.
So, what have I concluded from all these musings? Well, it can be summed up as follows:
- Life is expensive
- Being single is ridiculously expensive
- I'm going to have to make cutbacks - friends empathy would be appreciated...'please come to dinner on Friday, we've booked a table at the Fat Duck' would just be plain mean. I should point out that, no, this doesn't mean that if you invite me round I'm rocking up with Asda's own Bucks Fizz, but it does mean that the days of buying Veuve have now passed. I will be taking advantage of 'offer's so be warned!
- If I'm going to own a home, I'm going to have to live on the edge of financial security, something I'm not overly comfortable with. Actually this scares the hell out of me
- I'm not going to have much furniture. Everyone is always welcome to visit - I'd love to see you - but you may be sitting on the floor.
- Renting my second bedroom out would make a real difference - but it has to be to someone I know, or someone who knows someone I know! Know anyone who might be interested?
So, based on the above, should I take the plunge and put an offer in? Eeeeeeek!
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