Thank you and goodnight!

I should be in Belgium with my Dad, on his surprise trip he had organised as a leaving present for me. He has gone on his own. I felt a bit sad as I dropped him off at the station this morning.

I am in Cheshire instead! Regluar readers may have already sussed why I have had to drop everything an dash up north. My grandmother who was defying the laws of natural science with ther cast iron will to live, has passed on.

It's a mercy, she was in a tradgic state. However, she would never admit she was beat, and I hope that just some of the stength she has displayed in the last few years has passed down the genitic line to me.

The funeral is on Friday. It's rare that all the family, grand children and all, get together at the same time. The more centimental amongst us think that the last time we were all together was my grandads funeral nearly 20 years ago, but I'm sure there was one summer holiday at our caravan where we all got together for a BBQ. Still, I have been warned that photos will be taken of us all together again (The last photo was at grandads funeral!). The next time we will all get together will be a wedding. But Whos???? Hummm.

Preporations for Canada are going well. I have got my finances sorted out and bought my last clothing bits. The one thing we haven't done is to get a Canadian Flag for our leaving do on Saturday (Cock Tavern, Great Portland Street, 7pm). We even went to the Canadian Embassy, but all we got off them were Ferrero Rocher. Lovely people.

Ian and I still have no plans for when we get there, but as Spike Milligan once said "We don't have a plan, so nothing can go wrong!" Genius!

Bye for now! x

Goodbye Newham!

It has just occurred to me that when I leave work tomorrow for the last time, I will probably never work with Ian again. The medium by which the mad scheme to escape the country will be no more. Ian will cease to be a colleague, and instead be a flat-mate. That’s quite a shift.

No more will I see his cheruby little face, moaning, barking orders for "Tea, get me more Tea dam you" over a mountain of paperwork, and trying to achieve the improbable (although not the impossible. We have managed to pull of some events in the past. The Primary launch event we did, I was particularly proud of).

(Ian demanding Tea a 11pm. A tirelss worker for the kids)

No more Stratford. How can I leave this beautiful view of the high street, the high rises and Dog Sh*t Lane? For what? Vancouver? Somewhere I have only heard good things about? Where the people are nice and the air clean? Yep!

(Lovely Stratford: Breath in in boys as it's all being knocked down for the Olympics. Hey ho High rises)

And people look as us as if we are the crazy ones.

I got a very old disposable camera developed today. I wasn’t really bothered with it. I know I had taken some photos at a Halloween party last year, but it was an event I was trying to remove from memory, rather than bring it flashing back. However Ian, was quite insistent. Back in his single days he used his significant and varied powers of allure and charm to get absolutely nowhere with a blond Swedish strumpet.

Being Ian’s wingman and constant ally of support during this time, I selflessly sacrificed myself to attack the gatekeeper (her room-mate). I had to take her out of the game, so Ian could enjoy his moment of glory with the sexy Swede.

(From Left: Ian, The Sexy Swede, Random, Mashed Swede, and the 'Gatekeeper')

I upheld my end of the bargain with customary zeal and sophistication and I have the scars to prove it. I earned my wings that night. Therefore in Canada, you can be my wingman.

N.B. Ian didn't really try to pull the Swede, not with me in the room. He wouldn't do that to me!

RIP Andy "Arrows" Bull 1981-2005?

I am a dead dead DEAD man! Last night as I was writing, what in retrospect was a strange blog with a picture what has come out far bigger than I thought. Remember, in that blog I mentioned that I was enjoying a nice cold glass of Stella Artois? Yes. Well not for long. Being the dizzy twit I am, I spilled the near full glass of beer all over my sisters laptop and my mobile phone. The laptop cut out immediately, but my phone started flashing and dialling up all sort of numbers.

Problem is, I can’t get the laptop to sober up and work again. Help me Help for the love of God.

Fortunately, I have managed to buy myself some time by, packing her off to the New York this morning. So at least I have managed to by myself 10 days to get it all sorted. If not, then I will be viciously slaughtered. So here are my last goodbyes:

Mum: You did your best.

Dad: It was always your dream to out live one of your children. Congrats! (Just kidding, any one who knows us will know how close we are)

Laura: Sorry about the laptop. Yes, now you can borrow my CD’s.

Jolly Boys: It was fun while it lasted, but you can’t keep that drinking lunacy going forever.
Funny, I always thought Jon would be the first to go.

Ex-girlfriends; You loved and left me!….. Ditto!

Ian: My darts are in the small pocket at the front of my work bag. Go forth to Canada my young Padawan and enjoy it.

Work Colleagues: Can I still get paid for leave not taken?

Last will and Testament: I leave all my worldly belongings to Barking RUFC (Sis if you want to grab a few CD’s before hand please do).

Last words: "I may have left the gas on, best check".

Adieu.

Barking and the Blue Plaque!

It seems almost fitting dear reader, that just before I leave this fair isle for Canadian shores, I should go back and visit the very spot where I was born.

(If you see this man in Vancouver, give him a job: Me in the cheesiest photo I could find, after 1 or maybe 7 glasses of Chateaux Rothschild 92')

Don't bother strapping yourself in for a rollercoaster ride of blog emotion (although I am enjoying a cool glass of stella as I write) because I wasn't on some sort of soul searching mission. I was in fact driving my mum and back to Barking Hospital for the first time in 24 years to visit an old friend of the family, who is feeling none to clever at the moment.

The hospital is a shadow of its former self. However, as I sat looking out of the window across the brown field site and onto a new housing development, Mum turned and said "that's the exact spot where you were born". Being a sentimental old fool, I basked in the suns rays that beamed through the full length window and felt very centered.

Those of you who know Barking will understand what I mean when I tell you that you are more likely to feel cold steel and a rapid depletion of funds, rather then centered in Barking these days. Shame, it used to be a nice place before the war (Civil War of course).

I gave English Heritage a call to find out where my commemorative blue plaque was marking my birth, and they told me to "Get Knotted!" (Charming!)

I finish work in a week. Thank God! I just want to leave now. I feel I'm getting the cold shoulder from the senior management. Ian and I didn't get invited the Thames barge trip, a great corporate jolly. The reason was a classic. Apparently, people would have been so busy talking to us about our Canadian adventure that nobody would want to talk about work related issues. A backhanded compliment if ever I heard one.

I went to my local pub today, the beautiful Edward VII in Stratford, to break the news that I was leaving, and to stop ordering so much lemonade and chalk for the dart board. Tears flowed and with great sincerity, they congratulated me and wished me all the luck in the world. I was quite touched. They have also given me the back room of the pub for my work leaving do! They will even arrange it all out for me. All for no charge! I'm going to miss that pub.

Less than three weeks to go now until we fly. This is for me now. BRING IT ON!

The Mad, The Bad & The Dangerous

Apologies fans, for the lack of posts recently. The reason is two fold. Firstly, I actually have work to do. I may only have five days left in my job, but it’s the kids that would suffer if I didn’t try and replace the irreplaceable (i.e. me!). I’m not sure I could live with the guilt.

Secondly, seeing as Ian and I have been shoved into a corner, where the modern apprentice used to live (I like to call it the departure lounge) before she got fired, nothing works! My computer is too busy loading ‘pleasures of the flesh’, requested by modern apprentice and then crashing. She was a strange creature. This makes dossing at work more of a chore than the sneaky pleasure it once was.

Right, what was I meant to be blogging on about. Ah yes, the first night of The Mad The Bad And The Dangerous tour. A musical marathon that saw three sets and lasted over three and a half-hours. The setting was the Riga Music Bar in Southend. It reminded me of the fictional ‘Phoenix Club’ in Phoenix Nights. It had Riga written in italic gold sparkles on the black back cloth. It was also about 130 degrees in there. It was a sell out, but the owners had copped out on the air-con.
I was more of an endurance test than a gig. To summarise:

John Otway is a lunatic. A reasonably talented musician with 2 hits to his name, but one of the funniest acts I have ever seen. His well-versed routine with his wonderful guitarist had me in stitches. I won’t spoil it for you.

Wilko Johnson is very good. An excellent guitarist (he doesn’t use a plectrum at all, very good control and thumbs of steel), supported by a very good band. He pulls out his trademark moves, sings well and delivers a very good set.

Just over 2 hours in, and the doors at the back fly open. People flock out to get some much-needed oxygen. The meek are fading, but everybody knows what’s coming next. THE HAMSTERS.

Slim, Otis and Zsa Zsa, are probably the most talented live band I have ever seen. Technically, they are tremendous, they are such a tight unit, and Slim is such a good live singer. Combined with their witty commentary (i.e. "I know we are in chav central, so when I say I’m going to play R&B, I don’t mean f’ing Usher, OK!") you know you are in the presence of something, disciplined, professional but joyous. You can tell they enjoy it so much.

The best bit of their set is when they switch off the lights and the LED’s in their guitars light up the stage. Then Slim and Zsa Zsa walk into the audience and circle the room in opposite directions. They meet up at the back and then swap instruments and come back gain. Then Slim swaps his newly acquired bass guitar for the drums. All mind boggling stuff. Check out their website, the link is on the right.

In other news: I went to Leeds this weekend. I want to see Dan the man Sales of ‘Fish Hat’ fame. Sadly I can’t say much about the weekend due to the massive amounts of scandal that occurred. Pictures are not allowed for the same reason. People I love and care about read this blog and it would be wrong of me to label them as the filthy sex pests they know they are.

All I can say it that it was lovely to see everyone again, and I hope to see them at my leaving do. There is a special sort of friendship you have for people that I went to Uni with. It's probably because we lived and grew together. Some of these bonds however are exploited by filthy sex pests, but I can't talk about that. If word got out, they may shut my old Uni down (Keele by the way) because of the scandalous tendancies of its most revered alumni.

I apologies for the lack of pics. I am working on this. I need to embrace new technology more and not rely on my sister to do it for me. (By the way get well soon Sis) If you want to see cool pics of things, go to Ian’s blog. He’s got loads of them!

Bye for now, Andy

The Elder and the Cricket

Miss me?

Didn’t think so! Seeing as you are here now, you may as well find out what I have been up to. I have not been at work so for the first time in a long time I have been busy doing something.
Last Sunday I gathered some personal belongings, dug out my passport and went to the doctors to get my jabs. I was off to the land where the vowel is king.

The North of England! Cheshire to be precise. It’s an interesting place. The language can be a bit difficult at first and the natives can get a bit muddled, however after visiting the north for many years now, I can make myself understood (for some interesting reason they call 'dinner', 'Tea' up t'north).

I was going up to visit my family, especially "The Elder" or Granny as she is more commonly known. It may shock you to learn that all my mothers side of the family are from the North, but it’s not their fault. My granny was actually from Coventry working on the north/south Border controls, but 1940 was not a good year for Coventry. The football league was suspended, and Mr Goerings’ half time air show and firework display raised the city to the ground. After being bombed out twice they decided it might be safer to move.

My Granny is not the soft, genteel, nurturing woman you may imagine. In fact, as I was growing up, she makes no secret of the fact that she didn’t like children…. Especially southerners.
Sadly, she now resides in a home after loosing her leg. Her condition had deteriorated rapidly and her body has all but given up on her. She suffers form paralysis and can now only make minimal movement with her head. She’s also going blind.

Now, for ordinary people this would be too much to cope with. Not Granny! Her slightly spiteful nature and her cast iron will to live until she's a 100 means she’s determined to carry on fighting. She’s fighting for fighting’s sake because realistically she cannot got any better, and THAT is why my friends I feel very privileged to call her my Granny.

I said goodbye to my aunts, uncles and cousins, as it unlikely I will be up again before I go to Canada (4 weeks today), But I said a special goodbye to Granny, because medical opinion would indicate that she is unlikely to still be around when I get back. I hope she hangs around long enough for me to write and tell her what things are like in Vancouver. She managed a little smile as I left room 45 of the nursing home, which suggests to me that she may just surprise us all.

As I drove back to the safety and comfort of the south (the temperature went up 9 degrees along the M6), I got a text from my Dad. He was inviting me on a corporate jolly to watch Essex V’s Australia cricket match. Corporate jolly really equates to huge piss up with some cricket thrown in for good measure. I was given an extra ticket so I though I’d take Ian along as well.

It was a beautiful sunny day in Chelmsford, the box was lovely and the cricket spectacular. Now I’m not sure how much I should admit to in this post. Mainly, because I can’t remember anything after 5pm. I don’t really remember trying to unsuccessfully chat up our barmaid. Luckily for me, Ian was earwigging so he was able to remind me if all the horrifying details the next day. I really really loathe myself sometimes. What Ian didn’t know is that I didn’t have any of my business cards on me at the time, so I gave the barmaid one of his instead. As yet he hasn’t heard anything.

I also remember going to the pub afterwards, going on about work to these kind people that funded my inebriation and playing bad darts with my Dad. My Father then abandoned me and left me to my fate. I was very drunk and I answered to no man! Lord knows what happened next!

I do remember smoking a cigar (Why O lord? Why? You know it gives me a headrush that I really could have done without), then being bundled in the back of a people carrier and driven home.

I awoke to be not very well at some ungodly hour in the morning. I was starting to wish the grim reaper had taken me in the night, rather than suffers the morning after the day before hangover. I made a decision that if I thought I could get to work without throwing up on the underground, I would make the Herculean effort to make it in.

I did! Dad called me on my mobile thinking that I wouldn’t have made it to work. He asked if I was still alive? After I said I was, he didn’t try to kill me. So I couldn’t have done too much damage! He had a quick laugh about the day and said he’d see me tomorrow. I may have got away with it.

For gods sake kids.... Drink responsibly. Don't go through the day after paranoia that is suffocating me. I'm weak but I am trying to be a better man.

(Pictures to follow when I can work out how to get the photos from my camera to my sisters laptop)

P.S. I found out that Keira Knightly is a West Ham Fan. It was MEANT to be.