A new love in in life!

She's beautiful, got a great body, slender lines and she sounds so sweet. She's Canadian too. I even think my mother will like her. I know my Dad certainly will.

She's my new SIMON & PATRICK GUITAR !

Isn't she beautiful (I think this is the one I have got. Never fear, i'll soon post some action shots with her)

All I need to do now is write a hit song to pay for it. I did give it a go yesterday but I could hear Hannah laughing all the way from Hackney. I guess I need to work on my writing a bit.

She lives in a case that looks far more comfortable than my hostel bunk, but hey ho. Ian and I had a call last night from our new landlady. We are going for a viewing on Friday. There is a slim chance that we may get in their a couple of nights early. That would be simply fantastic.

I have not been working today. I did get a call from the agency that I was working for last week. My previous employers want me back! So at least I have some work in the pipe line. I seem to be getting quite a few calls from agencies offering me work as well, so I hope to be working again by Friday.

Ian's doing well at his post at UBC. Like the industrious boy I am, I met him for lunch and then went job hunting their myself. The pay is good and it seems a lovely place to work.

Congratulations to Paul who got his job in TV product placement today (Hi Julie). Dinners on you tonight then sonny boy!

Only a week and a half after his birthday I have posted off Dad's present. I also got my sisters off today. Cost me a bloody fortune, but their worth it! ;) Should be with you in 4-6 days peoples.

Laura.... I hope you like what I have got for you. Please let me know when you get it. Mwah x

Ok, need some dinner so I'll sign off for now. I bought a songbook with a few of the songs I failed to learn properly when I had lessons (poor Pete, my tutor. I was a terrible student). I am determined to return a better guitarist than when I left.

Right I'm off to practice.

Until next time x

The Women in My Life

This post is dedicated to two people in the Nottinghamshire area. The first is my little sister Laura, who will be 21 tomorrow. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DARLING. Your card and prezzy will be a little late, but at least it won't be as bad as my poor Dad, who has already been waiting over a week for his birthday present. (I'm so sorry Dad. I promise I'll get it off tomorrow. Just been a bit busy)

(Laura on her 21st Birthday. Who Farted?)

The second lady I want to say hello to is Mrs Julie Banks, who like many of you have become gripped by tales of our adventures, but unlike the rest of you is mother to Paul, a fellow friend & BUNAC'er. Why not drop either Ian or me a comment. We'd love to hear from you.

Last bit of admin. Apologies of all readers but especially my Mum who has pointed out in great detail all my spelling and grammatical mistakes made throughout my postings. My defense is that the spell checker is crap on blogger, I can't spell and I get charged by the MINUTE to use this. So ner!

OK sports fans, what a week it has been. Last weekend a few friends and I went to the aquarium and had a great time. It's well worth a visit if your in town. For picks and a more detailed analysis, go to Ians' blog, as he has all the good pictures too.

The big news of the week is that I have been working. I got a temp job at Vancouver Coastal Health. I have been re-organising all their filling system (for those of you whom I used to work with and know my "it's all up here" filling system, I am a changed man).

The people are very nice and have asked me to stay until Tuesday. After that, who knows. One guy called Dave just came up to me, introduced himself to me and then invited me out for drinks with his sister and friends the next night. How friendly is that! I accepted and took Ian, Gavin and Paul with me for moral support. We had a lovely time. It's nice to finally get out and meet some real live Canadians.

In other news. Tuesday has been re-named "Unexpected Tuesday". Simon, while working in the bowling alley spotted and old boy with a torn jumper, baseball cap and a dodgey Canadian accent. It turned out to be none other tan Patrick Stewart of Star Trek fame. Once Simon plucked up the courage to ask him if he was Capt Jean-Luke Piccard, he threw of his cap and announced in his thick Shakespearian brogue that "You have found me out". They chatted for a bit and he came across as a thoroughly nice chap. See Simons blog for details.

Tuesday became even more bizarre when I got back from work to be greeted by all the newNACK'ers. Two of which I was at school with. What a strange small world it is.

This weekend has been good fun. Ian and me have to leave the hostel for at least 1 night as we can only stay 21 consecutive days. We decided to go on a little holiday to Jericho Beach. We had heard that there was a very nice little hostel there.

Ian and I, packed up our sacks and being very mean, decided to walk the 8 or so miles to the hostel. When we got there, we thought the hostel and it looked very nice. Problem was we couldn't find the entrance. We found it in the end, next to a big sign that said "Closed for the winter" Bugger!

We decided to treat ourselves to the luxury of a bus ride back to town. We checked in to the other hostel in central Vancouver, just above The Royal pub. The music vibrated my bunk until just after 3am when all was quiet. Not for long though, as a new bloke walked in the dorm and was ceremoniously sick on the floor. Charming!

We're back in our old hostel again tonight. It's a former Nunary and the atmosphere is a suitable more restrained. Can't wait until we move into our flat. A week on Tuesday. Hurrah.

Right, I had better get on as I have to do a spell check and then phone Dad to tell him why he has yet to receive his birthday card and present. What A crap son I can be.

Love to all, and drop us a comment if you have the chance.

Bully xx

Don't Panic Mother!

It's ok I'm still alive Mum. The reason that I haven't called is that I have been to busy WORKING!!!! Yes thats right ladies and Gentlemen. I got a call on Tuesday morning at 9am, and was told to shoot straight over there. It's a Health Vancouver Doctors and admin type thing (I can't bloody remember what it's called OK!. I have just got back from work and ironed shirts for the next few days, I'm knackered) and it was only meant to be until Friday. However, after seeing wonder temp in action, they they decided to keep me on until Tuesday which is good.

I'm just doing basic admin, but it's easy and it pays quite well. I'm also on the 11th out of 12 floors so the views of Vancouver are picture postcard. It almost makes me feel important.

Ian is working as well for a lot more money but less hours. I still have yet to get to the temp agency he got this work from because I'm to busy working myself. However, I'm sure I'll make it there when my work dries up.

Ian only works 4 hours a day but he's moaning for the both of us. As soon as I got in from my full time job, I had a shower and went ironing straight away, taking his stuff with me to do as well (He did my shirt for today so fair's fair) and now I'm here.

I'm off now to have some richly deserved food and a pitcher of kokanee beer.

I'll write a more coherent post when I am more coherent.

God I'm tired!

Love to you all. xxx

Wine Women and Re-sit exams.

(Gavin modeling our new favourite bar)

Well dear reader it's been a busy weekend. After a week of interview and tests (not all of which have gone quite accoring to plan) we hit the weekend in style. Friday night we went to a bar owned by an Austrian, that Gaving (Featured) knew called the Black Frog. It was a fab little palce that served good beer and good food. As we have been here nearly 2 weeks I decided to have a small taste of home by ordering fish and chips. The rest of the cohort, must have felt the same as 5 of us ordered the same thing.

We decided to move on, but where? As usual it was raining and there were queue's a cover charges wherever we went. However, in an audacious attempt to loose our new room mate Jeff, (we left him in the company of some Canadian women in a queue for a bar we ouldn't be bothered to queue for) we criss-crossed around the city and found ourselves in Malonies.

This pub come blues venue was great. There was only a small charge to get in, and the live music was great. Spured on by the infectious rhythems, I started to dance!!! The creaky old knees started to whirl again. Not since the days of the Ballroom in Keele Students Union have the public been privy to such a bendy torrent of limbs.

I was already half-cut by this point so in my minds eye, I was a dancing like a legend. In reality, it was more like an octopus on speed (the camera never lies).

So fueled with self confidince was I, that I even asked out Sanja (Simons girlfriend Ellies best friend from Sweeden) on a date! Apparently she would have accepted if she wasn't flying back to Sweeden in Sunday. And before you say that was the catalyst for her departure (Jolly Boys!) it wasn't (well not totally).

Severe hangover later, sunny Saturday was a right off. Typical! Had to sleep most of it of, but did manage to stagger to the phone in the morning and wish Dad a Happy Birthday!

Saturday Night, I can't remember why, but we decided to go out again (oh yes, to watch the Grand Prix). We emded up in a bar called Panama Jacks. it had lots of omfy seats and a free pool table. What sealed the love affair was the cheapest beer we have seen so far.

Added to this that there was a club DJ which we got into for free (saved $4) because we were already there. The owner was really nice too, kept telling us to "shoot billiards" and "have a great time".

Sadly had to go home at a sensible hour as my liver was creaking, but promised I would be back. I gave them my e-mail but as yet have heard nothing.

Ok, stupid time. I did some more exams for another agency on Friday. However, I didn't realise that you could go back and answer questions that I had got wrong again if you had time at the end! Therefore I called up in my most authoritive voice and begged for another chance. I went again today and did better. How much better I don't know. At least I should rank as an intermediate now (the entry standards are tougher here than in England).

Ian had just been offered work, (Horrah!) from the agency he went to thismorning. I am booked in their tomorrow. I know what sort of questions they might ask as Ian has done a successfull dummy run. I hope I can follow in his footsteps.

He's on a good wage too. Good for him and wish me luck.

Andy xxx

The Gay Away Day!

Meet the gang! here are the fellow BUNACers who I will be sharing rooms, stories and games of pool with for the next year. (Extra points for spotting me. I am right at the back right hand side. You may just be able to see my pearly white teeth leaping up from the bar)

Introductions over, I want to introduce you to the concept of the Gay Away Day. Despite constant rumours eminating from work friends, employment agencies and our own friends, Ian and I are not gay. I agree live would be more simple if we were, but it's just not going to happen. OK.

(Bully, the mighty explorer on Kits beach)

Ian and I hired some bikes and decided alone with a few like minded friends to cycle around Stanley park to take in some of the stunning views. Ian commented that this was such a romantic setting and that it was completely wasted on me! Not being one that easily offends, I punched him and hid in a tiny corner to cry.

Ian had a point. We have done some pretty cool things together, dinned in some lovely restuarants together. Was it a waste?

"Of course not!" shouted Paul (I'm sure he's in the top photo but I'm dammed if I can find him) "your simply having a Gay Away Day".

"Eh" I cried.

"The concept of the Gay Away day, is that straight men can go out together appreciate nice things, enjoy their time, and not feel like the moment has been wasted on them." The precident he recalled was "when a friend of his had finished his Uni exams and drove a convertible XR3I up to the beach and he and his friend had a pic nic. It was one of the most fun times they could recall" (metrosexuals, the lot of um)

Soon, we all started remembering gay away days of our own. We all felt much better for this little chat and decided to stop whinging and take in some of the views.

(View from Stanley Park into Downtown)

(The city at dusk)

We have made quite a lot of new friends since we have been here. Through meeting a bloke in a bar we have even set up our own football team. We are meant to be playing today, but as it's pissing it down, I think I'll give it a miss.

(Simon and myself, commanding the field)

Two agency interviews down and one more to go on Tuesday. Foe those of you who are religious pray for me, and I may have work by the end of the week.

Stay tuned for more more comments on Malonies, Panama Jacks and other great nights out. Oh, and maybe some work updates as well.

Love from Vancouver x

Ians' Blog.... Dito!

Ian made a very interesting comment yesterday. Apart from the 2 hours we spent apart when I along with some other fellow missionaries, went to teach the natives to play 'soccer', we haven't been more than 15 feet away from eachother. This is understandable concidering we are both on a very similar schedule and it's great that we haven't even uttered a cross word to eachother, but it does make our blog enteries quite similar.

This doesn't mean that you shouldn't read Ians blog, as you naturally get all the infomation you need in my handily packaged blog. He writes well! Best of he he has the USB cable which means that he can put photos on his. Therefore click on the link to his and check out the view. I hope to be sorted with photos very soon.

If for some bizzare reason, you have ventured here from reading Ians blog first, then don't worry yourself; you're here now.

You would also know that we have been looking for work. Like Ian, I have three interviews for agencies. I have had my first and it went well. My IT skills could do with a bit of brushing up (Ian has a slight advantage over me here, but I am nothing if not persistant) but indicatiors are that there is a fair bit of work about. I have another interview tomorrow morning and then one on Tuesday. Hopefully I'll be working then.

Ian is at his second interview now. I hope it goes well. If it goes really well I could give up work completely and become a house husband. I could devote myself to the art of stand-up or something equally silly (my pursuit of guitar excellence). Don't think it would look to good on my CV.

Really want to move into my flat now and have a regular job. I get most of my to do list done in the mornings which leaves me a bit at a lose end the rest of the day. I don't like time to ponder. I am very motivated at the moment. Sadly, I have to play a bit of a waiting game.

I'll have a look at some jobs on the web. It least I feel I'm doing something positive. Ian was right when he said he had no motivation in London, but here we are job hunting like wolves. We have made some great progress but are desperate to keep the motivation going. As we are here for such a short time, we don't worry about what jobs we get. We have rent to pay!

The most amusing thing that has happened today was when I went down for breakfast. As I was off to an interview, I was in my suit. In the usually packed canteen, I had a table all to myself. Nobody wanted to sit next to me. As I went to get some juice, a man offered to pour it for me. Somehow, just by changing my clothes, I have assumed a position of power.

I'll do the same tomorrow!

I'll be standing by the phone. xx

Cozy appartment. Sleeps 1/2.

House hunting is a fickle beast. The emotions one experiences, looking at place to place are enough to drive any man, woman or beast to drink. Let alone me.

We started our search by internet and found that to be a complete waste of time. All the services were charging. I didn't find their services all that useful anyway. As we came out of the Bunac internet office, two girls who have been here a while, said it was murder trying to find any places to stay and wished us a sarcastic 'good luck!'

Confidence was not high, but Ian and I are made of tough stuff. We told them they could keep their negative vibes to themselves as we decided to march on foot to an area we wanted to live in. We walked block by block looking out for for rent signs. We were prepared to do it the hard way.

The first we found looked horrid. We decided to look around the back in case we were missing a secret treat. However, the only secret treats around their were left by the local wildlife.

Stoically, we moved on and found a much nicer looking place. I rang the number on the board and asked the landlady for a viewing. Her English (or lack of it. She was Hungarian) and my accent made negociations difficult. The hallway looked like the inside of a brothel and the landlady kept hitting me for some strange reason. It was a nice flat and a very good price too. Problem was we couldn't move in until 1st November. The mad landlady also lived in the building which made we worry. Not because we will have wild parties. More because by the state of her bloodshot eyes, it looked as if she did.

Plan B. Get the Saturday listings and go through the paper to find places. The first was in the right area and sounded great. Again a good price. I called what sounded like an elderly gentleman. He had me convinced that this was a fantastic deal and that we should get over their as soon as possible. Ian and I bolted over their as fast as we could to meet this guy. We tried to contain our excitement, but it was hard.

We got there. We were waiting looking smart. Ian even had his glasses on to look more professional and less like the hooligan he is.

We know we were in trouble when we saw the gentleman had no teeth and a limp. We had been warned about 'Limpy" aka Paul. He had shown some friends of ours around the previous day in another flat. According to them, this boy old boy was quite mad and his places all smell of urine.

Being charitable, and a great lover of the elderly, we decided to give limpy a chance. Sadly he took us straight into the very same flat we had looked at upon in didgust the previous day. It was a flea pit and the faint odour of urine was also present.

Limpy took us to his office and showed proudly, his collection of complete crap which he gets out of other peoples trash. I spotted A picture of Ullswater in the Lake district. I mentioned that this was in England, out of desperation to manufacture some sort of conversation. Poor Ian was numb with dissapointment. With upmost sincerity, he said that I could have the picture of Ullswater he picked out of the rubbish tip for myself if I took the appartment. Nice !

However, even with incentives as strong as other peoples crap, Ian and I phoned him an hour later and politely thanked him but we were not going to take up the lease.

Clearly demoralised, Ian and I sat on a park bench as Ian sifted through more adverts and I called them, desperate for a new lead. I got answer phones on every one.

We had given up for the day and decided to go around Stanley park on hired bikes with a few new friends. I got a call on my mobile. It was one of the landlords we had called earlier responding to my message. We hunted for the advert about the property. It said cosy 1/2 bed basement appartment. Hopes were suitably subduded as this would mean that it would be tiny. Some other friend had been in a simular basement apartment, like the one we were about to visit. They said that the ceiling was no taller than 6ft at any point. I went along to see this place for myself today and they were wrong, the max is 5ft 11in.

We arrived at the house and it looked very nice. A lovely spot really ner the beach and great bus routes into the city. We met Barbara, the land lady and she seemed very nice. She took us around the flat and we were pleasently surprised. It was a lot bigger than I thought it would be. It had been planned out very well to save on space and provide a roomier feel. The bedrooms were the biggest we had seen. We even get a garden with a sheltered patio. It was also the cheapest so far!!!

Both Ian and I were hooked on it. We applied immidiately and tried to convince her that although we as yet had no job, that we would be the greatest tennants she had ever known. I thought we would hear late next week, so we were going to keep looking. However, the old Bully charm must have worked, because she rang within the hour and offered us the place. We met in Starbucks (where else) that night and signed the contracts.

One problem is that we can't move in until 1st November. Everyone else is in the same boat, and I really believe this flat is worth it. A few little Ian and Andy touches and this will be a bachelor pad to rival all others.

Flat sorted, I now need to get a job to pay for it. It's thanks giving weekend so I have had today off. People are back to work tomorrow, and so will I. I have named it "FIND A JOB TUESDAY"

Wish me luck xx

Hey there sports fans!

I'M IN VANCOUVER!!! Finally after months of droning on about it, I finally made my move to Vancouver.

It was a slightly emotional farewell to Mum and my sister as I was driven up to Gants Hill tube station on Tuesday morning, laden with all my gear. The official advice was to travel light. So being the experienced traveller I am I ignored this completely and turned up with a rucksac and holdall.

I wore the BUNAC t-shirt which was sent to all Bunacer's with their registration documents. I guessed I would be the only one who would and I was proved right. Apart from looking a bit of a tit, the T-shirt did have one big benefit; the reps from Bunac could spot us, and so could all the other travellers. People would all introduce themselves to me and a small group formed. We have all become quite close. It's a shame in a way that all these people will be heading off in different directions soon, it may well be the last we see of them.

We arrived at our Hostel at obout 7pm on Tuesday. We were all a bit knackered from the flight and so really couldn't form a solid impression of the place. We got showered, and went to a local bar for a couple of drinks. Ian got stopped on the street and asked if this was the gay district (I thought we left this rumour behind in Newham). It was only when we got to the pub that someone pointed out the decorative artwork of mens willies. Still everyone seemed very friendly.

Myt first impression of the place was a bit mixed. We were not right in the centre of town and it was dark. It then dawned on me that I was here for the next year. I felt a little uneasy.

The hostel itself is very nice. We get a good breakfast thrown in to the 15 quid a night we shell out. We have decided to stay until Monday at least (My first Thanks giving). Being bright eyed and bushey at 3am is a consequence of the jet lag, but we are slowly getting over that.

As dawn rose I did a few bits and bobs and then we went for our induction which would hopefully point us in the fight direction as far as accomadation and jobs are concerned. We then went for a walk to get to know the area. In the space of thirty feet, a Japanese lady grabbed me and wanted to have a photo taken with me (I got the rest of the gang I was with involved, 8 for the price of one). I tried to tell her I was English and not Canadian but she seemed happy enough so why spoil her fun. Next, a tramp asked us if we would give him money to watch him climb up a tree of lampost (in retrospect I wish we had). Lastly, we walked passed a shop which sold the 'Rocky' board game (you have to use your moves to build boxing strategy, pure genius)

That evening, we went to a bar called "The Royal" where, fueled by beer and the adrelalin keeping me from colapsing into a coma, I hit the dance floor and unleashed my trademark dance moves upon the natives. Some watched and some fled for their lives, but a young lady from the US did ask me to dance with her. We did the usual dirty dancing, but the music was a bit too trendy for me so I let it slip. As I said my goodbyes she said that we were by far the best dancers. In my drunken state, I would have to agree.

Today has been a much more business like affair. I went to the Bank first thing and opened an account. It took about 20 mins to countersign all my travellers cheques, but it is all sorted now. Also got a mobile phone today. It's all very exciting! looking for a place to live now. I have even found a guitar shop for when we get a place. May have to buy furnature first as you canot sleep in a guitar. I'm starting to feel like a proper Vancouvian. Early days though

Still don't know how it's all going to work out, but I think the omens are good. Excuse all the spelling mistakes, but I get charged by the second for this.

Best bargain so far. Massive slices of pizza, 93 cents (about 40p) with a can of coke take that up to 90p. They bleed you dry here!

Love from BC.

Bully. x

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.

Battle of the sexes!

"No one will ever win the battle of the sexes....there is too much fraternisation with the enemy" Said Henry Kissinger.

I think this sentence was a product of it's time. When Henry stood in the White House, looking out of the bay window at the legions of Bra Burners doing their bit for the feminist cause, but not the environment (and of course ironically, helping bra manufactures).

However, in these days of widespread technical advancement, new Weapons of Mass Disruption are beginning to win it for the females. Inventions like dating agencies, speed dating and personals websites are fueling the fire.

I myself am a huge fan of personals websites. It has given me hour upon hour of entertainment when there was nothing doing at work, sitting and looking and chuckling at different profiles. Especially the completely fraudulent ones, where women who will never see 40 again try to pass themselves off as 22: it's just not true. Also, the amount of very intelligent and extremely beautiful Russian women who seek a 'life partner' who earns roughly the same as Roman Abramovitch arises suspicion.

I used to find the best ones and save them so I could show my Dad when he pops over at the weekend. He shares my slightly warped sense of humour. Some people may think it's a bit cruel, but some profiles are just so ridiculous that they bring great joy to the masses and should be celebrated. Furthermore, it's unlikely they'll get many serious replies.

I'm not knocking it, honestly I'm not. Infact, before I decided to go to Canada (not much point now), I thought I should put up or shut up. Rightly thinking that I have nothing to loose, I got a general feel from some of the other male profiles, and created my own. I waited for the amazed public to recognise me as a rare treat, the one that got away and should be recaptured immediately, and storm my inbox with sultry offers of wine and romance.

I did get one offer from a big boned, chain smoker who lived frighteningly close to me. I got very scared and removed my profile immediately from the system.

After a couple of weeks, I discovered that I could send my profile only to those whom I wanted to see it. Marvelous I thought! This actually worked quite well and I got e-mailing to a few very friendly people. I actually arranged to meet one in London. We met up and she was far more beautiful than her profile had eluded. She was also good company, but we didn't really hit it off enough to see each other again. I think my English wit may have been lost in translation once it reached her German sense of humour. She's back in Germany now (I think it was a slight over-reaction to leave the country. It wasn't that bad!)

I think personals reflect the current state of the battle of the sexes very accurately. It clearly shows that women are winning! Men's profiles tend to all say the same thing. "Nice down to earth guy, likes bars and fine dining", "or young professional male, looking for a nice lady to share good times with". Nothing to taxing, a bit lame really. Whereas the women just go for broke. They forget to describe themselves, and launch straight into list of demands from their prospectice man.

Here are some actual quotes highlighting why I would not be suitable for them.

"Hope you're the sort of person that doesn't trawl the personals on regular basis but just happens to be glancing through, maybe you're discerning and still haven't found what you're looking for either." (too late, as you can tell I already waste far to much time trawiling)

"I'm looking for a Christian man, no if ands or buts--no equivocating, malfunctioning or disreputable Christians please" (If only I could stop equivocating??????)

"WARNING: I don't drink, smoke, or find crowds of desperate people doing said activities to be appealing AT ALL. " (Fun, Fun, Fun!)

"I laugh hysterically and inexplicably at nothing at all" (Check to see what colour coat she has on. If it's white, I win the bet)

"Abrasive, pub-going, uneducated megalomaniacs need not apply." (Thats me out on all 4 counts)

"Politically I am on the right and I am not interested in left wing types. I have travelled the world and I want someone equally worldly. The reason I am on here is because I am fed up with losers approaching me with sad one liners in clubs and I am told this is a good way to screen these types out easily. That means no icebreakers. I will warn you that I am semi high maintenance and previous relationships have failed because my ex partners weren't up to it.The right man will be. If you're on here, drop me a line" (Semi-high maintenance!! Enough of this false modesty)

"surprise u!! i am a transexual-ladyboy. been live as female role fulltime since i was 16" (Oh Sh*t, Not again!!!)

I could never fight in the battle of the sexes, I love the females in my life to much. However, by the looks of it, women have no such hangups. Such is life!

Richmond upon Chancery Lane

I knew Friday night was going to be interesting when Dad turned up and demanded to know where the beer was. He had come around straight after work because we were going to an open mic session where 'Richmond' were playing (my guitar tutors band). When I mentioned that I didn't have beer in the house because it tends to get drunk before it reaches the fridge, he paused and looked disappointed for a nano-second before diving into the wine rack.

We got off the tube at Chancery Lane to look for the wine bar where the gig was being held. All along the way, Dad was looking out for pubs which would serve him a decent pint if the wine bar couldn't (poor dad doesn't drink all week and like a beer on a Friday, and I was taking him to a wine bar). Happily the bar was right next door to the Law Society (Dad's a Solicitor) so he began to calm down because he knew he could always get a good pint in there. I wondered if he could get me in. "Of course" he replied "I pay enough to be a bloody member for gods sake".

The bar itself was a lot smaller that I thought it would be and not how I imagined it. It was already quite busy and I felt if if I should apologise for some ridiculously "British" reason. Before I could be heard, Dad said he thought it was an intimate arena, and he liked it. He also liked the only beer they had on tap so we were off to a winning start.

There was a small stage where one of the acts was about to start. He called himself Wolf Man of 1. The kindest what to describe his peformance would be, enthusiastic! My ironic cheer of "Encore!" was met with steely glances from wolf weary listeners.

The second act was interesting. He must have been the wrong side of 70. He played brilliantly and swore relentlessly. His last song was played with the guitar on his knees and a lighter being rubbed along the fret to create a sound that must have been inspired by heavy and sustained substance abuse. His lyrics focused on familiar themes such as 'f**king kids' (not literally as this carries a heavy prison term) and 'space men'. Nevertheless, this didn't stop me from bumping into him later and telling him how wonderful I thought he was, and how I hoped I would see him peform again soon. "What you need is a manager!" I said. Yes I meant me, and yes it was a creepy thing to do. However I have a good excuse... I was drunk.

Dad and I soon bumped into Pete (my tutor) and he came over and bought us a drink (he really hasn't got the hang of this groupie thing). Rob and his friend Alistair, turned up and the four of us stood, talked, laughed and enjoyed the music. Richmond were up next and they were excellent as I knew they would be. The next band, were called Lopez. They were also very excellent. Pete reckons they may go all the way. So as the blog that breaks new musical tallent, click on www.lopezmusic.com You saw it here first folks!

After Richmond finished their set Paul, the lead guitarist, asked us what we thought of the set and then offered to buy us another drink (I should really start going to more gigs). I had quite clearly had enough to drink already as I agreed to do an open mic myself. Stupidly I broadcast this knowledge and I have quite a few people who want to come and laugh at me. They won't be laughing if they have heard me sing. I either sing or play the guitar, not both simultaneously. If I try, I end up concentrating so hard on getting the guitar to sound like the song I'm trying to play, that my singing becomes a barley audible whine. Having my voice amplified with a mic means that by law I cannot play within 20 miles of Battersey Dogs Home.

As the evening drew to a close, Pete came up to my dad and me and offered us a lift home (what can I expect from them if they crack the US market. A flat maybe!). So I got a lift with the band all the way back to Ilford. How cool is that.

On the journey home, Dad who is a massive music buff but completely tone deaf, talked about the industry, being successful, and about music in general. This led to a shock announcement the very next day. Dad had been pondering all night and has deduced that bands need something extra to help them stand out. Therefore he has selflessly decided to help young acts break into the big time by offering his services as a bongo player. He wants to by a good set and get proper instruction. He realises that his image may not fit the young and trendy acts coming through. Undeterred, Dad has agreed to shave off all his hair to make him look more hip. I worry for him sometimes, I really do. If he does go through with it, which of course he won't, I promise to post photos. If anyone needs a bongo player, please do get in touch. He's cheap!

With love,

Andy

Why I love Peter Cook!

Peter Cook: comedian, actor, writer, performer, owner of Private Eye magazine and towards the end, terrible drunk.

A few hand picked quotes I nabbed from various websites from Ian Hislop.

"It will be a tribute to the funniest man in the world," said Hislop. "He was a very good proprietor because he never interfered. He never asked why we were costing him millions of pounds."When I was being sued by Robert Maxwell Peter was at the back of the court waving his cheque book." I will miss his jokes. He invented the phrase 'this man is a proven Lawyer'. Surreal brilliance, impossible to match."

"My single favourite memory is the commando raid on the Mirror building that he organised in the late Eighties when Robert Maxwell was about to produce a magazine called Not Private Eye. Maxwell had sued us, WH Smith had pulled us off sale but were proposing to sell his magazine. We desperately needed to get hold of a dummy issue if we to stop them. No one could think how to do it, so Cookie sent over a crate of whisky to the Mirror office with his compliments, thinking, rightly, that the people working on the dummy didn't want to do it.Three-quarters of an hour later he rang them up to find they were legless and said, 'Oh, we'll come and join you.' so five of us got into a taxi, breezed over and went straight up to Maxwell's office. Cookie sat at Maxwell's desk and ordered champagne, we wrote Hello Bob on the windows and called him up in New York."

For more larks from the great man, click on "The Establishment" link to your right.

Enjoy your day xx

Public Appeal!

On Friday 12th of August at about 11.30 pm, I along with my good friend Darren was standing on the pavement outside the Hollybush pub in Loughton Essex.

I was waiting for a lift home when an event took place, that left me feeling cheapened by a gross personal violation of my body.

I was simply standing chatting wittily and merrily to Darren when a young Irish siren, about 25-28 years old, 5ft 6, slim with long dark hair, fair skin, and a very strong perfume of vodka, came bowling up to me and asked me where I lived.

Being a wily old fox, I was not quick to fall into this blatant attempt at entrapment. I casually replied, that I lived in Ilford (cunning I thought, specific enough to avoid a retort, but vague enough not to pin me down). "Ahhhh!" she exclaimed "I used to live in Seven Kings!".

Dam, How did I not see this trap. It was too late, she threw her arms around me, gently and seductively swivel her hips up to mine, and kissed me on the lips!

Shock ensued. The power of the moment must have been too much as she swayed into the path of a reversing car (it may also be attributed to the quite violent aroma of booze emanating from her). Being the gentleman I am, I grabbed her and lifted her to safety.

A strangely farcical conversation followed during which, the Irish siren said I was funny looking, but my ginger haired friend looked normal ("this was because she is Irish" Darren said "there are lots of ginger people in Ireland". Brilliant after 6 stella's, truly brilliant). She then tried to punch me in the stomach to see if I really had the washboard stomach she was dreaming of underneath my T-shirt (diet was going well thus far, but at the weekends I seem to always have a blow out and undo all the good work that I have suffered for during the week).

She proceeded to give me another dig in the ribs just to make sure, and then violated me once again by snaking up to me and planting another smack on the lips.

Thankfully, my ride pulled up soon after, and whisked me away from this frightening ordeal.

Therefore, if there were any witnesses to this harrowing experience, or if any other men suffered the same fate that that night, please could you let me know who she was, if she will be there again next week, or call freephone 0800-cal-bully, because I wouldn't mind being violated some more!

Cheers,

Andy x

The CAMRA Real Ale Festival 2005 - London Olympia

(Jolly boys reunited)

My love affair with beer started in my late teens, and apart from a few painful moments ( physically, the morning after, or mentally when you remember what you did last night) the love affair has been a strong and constant one.

In fact, it has probably been the most constant thing in my life. It had always been their with me during the happy times, the parties celebrations, and the cool kick back moments. However, unlike any fair weather friends, beer has been with me through the breakups, knocks, downers and Eurovision.

I have been lucky. I have had a mentor to guide me through this path to manhood. Notably my good family friend Doug. Doug is an expert on beer. He knows how it's brewed, what to look for and how to sample and more importantly how to enjoy. He turns drinking beer into an art-form and a science. Therefore, getting sloshed with Doug means I'm furthering education and therefore is perfectly justified.

Imagine then dear reader, my excitement when the "Jolly Boys" (a bunch of lovable drunken reprobates whom I grew up with) invited me to the worlds largest real ale festival. We decided to go on the Friday, just in case we needed a full weekend to recover (I love the boys foresight). Three of the lads took half days, and as two work in the city we met them up there. I decided to make a day of it, so I took the whole day off and treat myself to a lie in and a sturdy breakfast. The last "Jolly" who will remain nameless due to legal reasons went AWOL from his post in the British Transport Police (good to know our transport system is in good hands after the recent bombings).

After some inconsiderate sod decided to throw himself under the train at Liverpool Street Station, we rendez vouz'd at the entrance of the festival.

(The scene that greeted us at Olympia)

As we walked in we bought our pint glass and stood in awe at the sight that greeted us. London's Olympia, packed to the rafters with 450 different ales, and gourmet cuisine of every kind to satisfy the thirsty drinker.

(Me tucking into the gourmet cuisine avec beer)

We went around drinking halves from different varied stalls. Some award winning, some with just a small que. We gaily walked around soaking in the atmosphere, talking to very friendly complete strangers. I was surprised to see so many people hanging around the "Lancaster Bomber" stand, until we realised that they sponsor Andrew "Freddie" Flintoff, who was at the time, hammering the Australians in the Ashes Cricket series. They had a small TV screen around which 100 people must of stood waiting for the next Aussie to fall prey to the English attack. Cheers rang high when a wicket fell. There was a terrific atmosphere. Thoroughly British if such a thing still exists?

(Stealing from the war veterans)

There was one particularly disturbing aspect of the day highlighted in the above photo. Lots of games were scattered around the arena to play for crap prizes but for extremely good causes. Besides when you have had a few, one enjoys a challenge. The stall you can see is for the Poppy Appeal for our war Veterans, a most worthy cause. Chelsea pensioners would stand by the Bog and look after your pint glass for a small fee while you went and answered your call of nature. Great stuff! As you can see above the object of this game is to pass the hoop along the wire without touching. The course was a particularly fiendish one, however the attractive young (I thing Australian.. Huh, just because England is winning in the cricket doesn't mean that you should take it out on our war hero's) lady in the photo, was taking such precautions with her attempt. I stood and watched for about 5mins as he slowly completed the course. Look closely at the woman running the stall. Her look suggests that she is saying "what the hell are you trying to do to these people? Take the food of their plates!".

(Darrrvid... who loves ya baby!)

I don't want any naming or shaming, from the doubtless hundreds of thousands of devoted readers. Someone is bound to recognise her. The appropriate thing to have done, would be have got right to the very end and then slip, affecting a 'silly billy me' expression. Everybody knows you could have done it, so quit there and save everyone's blushes. Please give generously www.poppy.org.uk

(Drinking in perfect harmony)

Just for the record, 'Nelsons Revenge' and 'Your granny wouldn't like it' are Bully's top tip(ple).

(I love you Bully. Jon falling at the 403rd hurdle)

At about half past seven in the evening the nameless PC, fortified with strong Bavarian dark beer, decided he needed to put all his new found pissedness to good use. So I was forced to leave this BEER FESTIVAL to go to a WALKABOUT PUB on the Embankment. I ask you...Where's the logic!!!

(United we stand....otherwise we'd fall over)

PC pulled amazingly, and I went home with a nice warm beer coat on perfectly happy to stare at the crap advertisements on the tube for the next 45 minutes, safe in the knowledge that it was a great day.

(The end of a beautiful day. At Walkabout in Embankment)

Hello again!

As a courtesy to Her majesty's Government and the Bank of England, I graciously decided to write a quick post to let the English speaking world know how I'm doing. As a result of this hopefully, I can single handedly avert chaos for the great institutions that mentioned above.....(I know they were worried).

I am perfectly fine!

I realise that my silence had caused consternation amongst the masses, but fear not dear reader. It's not because I don't love you. It's just that due to the rapidly approaching evacuation of this fair Isle to Canada, I have been preparing by investing some quality me time.

Work is incredibly quiet at the moment. Added to this we have more staff than ever. The two new people who are to replace Ian and myself have already started. Ian and myself have of course been training them up in all areas of our work. However once we showed them where the kettle was and they seemed ok.

They are both very nice chaps. Rob is Ian's brother (nepotism or what?) and Charlie is very keen and enthusiastic about the job (something Ian and I lost a long time ago). Due to this new bloods enthusiasm, our thinly veiled training programme consists of delegating what little work we have to the newbies. The system seems to be working well at present (for me anyway).

So, what have I been up to this last 2 weeks? Well work wise, virtually nothing apart from a few meetings. I spend far too long day dreaming about what I might get up to in Canada. The danger of this, is that my expectations become artificially high. I'm not stupid! I know that it is likely to be tough, but hopefully good fun. Nevertheless, I can't suppress the tiny piece of my mind that hopes something big is going to happen: and why should I! Keep on dreaming: that's what I say.

The rest of my time in the office is spend doing what little work I have, reading Ian's and Lewis's blogs, checking in with the Peter Cook appreciation society, reading Richard Herrings blog and looking at some other weird and wonderful websites. (Links to on the right)

In my spare time I have been very busy of late. During week days I'm either at the Gym, Playing tennis, down the pub or practicing like fury on the guitar (again following on from the idea that something BIG might happen in Canada, and if not, to provide a better friend during my quieter moments).

Basically there is nothing much doing at the mo. Just winding down. The lull before the Canadian storm. It's quite sad really. Nevertheless, the last time I said my life had gone all gone quiet, things went bloody mental for the next to months. Touch wood!

PS.

At the weekend, I went to the worlds largest Real Ale festival at Olympia, which was fantastic! However, I will wait until I have uploaded the photos to give you the full debrief. This was just to (pardon the pun) wet your appetite!

Love Bully x