It Ain't Me Babe

Today I'm going to talk to you about love, or something like it. Not in terms of myself, close friends will agree that me talking about my own situations opens a up a big ole barrel of neurosis, paranoia, idiocy and craziness paralleled only by some strange 'Greg House-esque' character.  But they will also let you know that when it comes to matters of others peoples hearts, I'm pretty outstanding.


Over the course of the last 9 months, quite a few of my friends have seen the relationships with their teenage sweethearts come to an end.  Some we initially quite appropriately devastated, others nonchalant about the whole thing saying that the union had run its course.  But either way, all have ended up in rather similar positions at some point in the post-break up epoch.


They have all moved on and met new people.  They have then declared that this person is the most amazing person ever, far superior than previous partner.  They have enjoyed a bountiful relationship including outings, gestures, gifts, constant messaging etc.  Then after a few months, as is unfortunately inevitable, things have soured.  The excitement is dwindling, the effort made on both parties lacking.  The previous partner looks as appealing as the prize cow at a county fair once again, that person has moved on.  The whole situation semi-blows up in their face and it's quite devastating.


Now, in NO WAY am I implying that this is exclusive to my friends and that there is emotionally strange about them (aside from the quirks that make them awesome to me :D).  It just so oddly happens that so many of them have been through this around the same time, something in the water perhaps...


But it's also not a particularly individual situation to find yourself in post-break up.  Breaking up with your first love is sometimes, unfortunately so but in fact, a fact of life.  Like many people, I broke up with my first boyfriend at the end of my teens, and have since then continued to experience highly melodramatic break ups well into my 20's.  I know the drill now, I'm used to it.  I have even patented my own recover plan!
However going through your first love break up(and sometimes -into-second relationship) seems to be a bit like chicken pocks, easier to get it out the way younger.


In my opinion, nothing I'm about to say will be a particularly earth shattering revelation.  Every new relationship starts with a 'honeymoon period', lasting an indefinite amount of time.  During this period you will think everything your new partner says is mind-blowing, go to great lengths to impress each other from fancy outings to cool outfits, and you WILL NOT be able to keep your hands off each other for that 15 minutes at a push.
  Once this period of euphoric bliss wears off, what you're left with is the actual relationship you have.  Hopefully this will be an an awesome friend, a partner in crime and someone who still lights your sexual fires.  But not always...
  Sometimes, the person you're left with isn't that funny, doesn't really like the things you like, hasn't got that much to say about anything, and probably isn't as great in the sack as you initially thought.  But you'll try hold on, not because you're a sucker for punishment, but because you remember those tender moments and fun times and think 'well it happened once, surely that can't be it?  They can't just change that quickly, we can be that close again, can't we?'.  And if you start to think like that, my advice would be to cut your losses and walk away.  If they follow you, great, but they probably won't and don't live your life holding out for it.  And don't sleep with them thinking that'll make them love you again, it won't.  It will make them feel sexually lighter, and you utterly foul.
  And then you'll have inevitable hankering for the ex - 'they'd never do that, they were always there me, we never had problems like this, and they were so good looking...'.  STOP STOP STOP!!! Your Ex is you Ex for a reason.  You do not need to go there.  Especially as there's always a risk that your ex will have moved on, and the dejection you will feel will be horrific.  Don't do it!


So what do you do when you feel your entire world is crumbling?  What everybody else does, the corniest line in the book - pick yourself up and carry on.
  Relationships are the most subjective and personal things to us.  There might be civilians being used as cannon-fodder in Syria right now, but if your boyfriend dumped you before an episode of Don't Tell The Bride, nothing else could ever be worse.  And that's ok.  It's ok to be upset, cry on the phone to everyone you know, watch Love Actually with a bottle of Lambrini and curse Hugh Grant to Hades.  Get it out your system.  Then move on.  That that don't kill ya makes ya stronger, and even though it doesn't feel like it right now, YOU WILL BE FINE!


Take a little advice from Johnny Cash and June Carter, worked out alright in the end for them now didn't it!

I can't stand the rain...Against my window-oh-oh

This will not be a post whining about the weather!  But I will begin with my only gripe for the season, of which there are 2:
- My new location, Lancaster, seems to only have two different states; raining and 'the apocalypse'.  This is making it rather difficult to acclimatise, when you run the risk of drowning/being struck by lightening every time you leave the house.
- Those of you who know me well, know my love of clothes (i'm so vain, I probably think this song is about me...), and to have to focus so much of the summer clothing budget on black opaques instead of questionably short skirts is rather irritating.
Done.


Moving on...


Last week I managed to score myself a bar spot for the England vs Australia ODI at Old Trafford.  Being 2-0 up in the series already this was sure to be a great day, England's short overs cricket is on fine form, provided a ball could be bowled...  My concerns for the day started at 4am, when I was woken by what I originally thought was the tree from 80's horror classic 'Poltergeist' trying to get in through my window, but on closer inspection was a casual rainstorm.  Hmmm.
  On arriving at Old Trafford at 11am, I huddled with the rest of staff under a tunnel; as most of the stadium is currently being renovated shelter was limited.  But the show will go on! We were confidently informed, and about 20 of us were led to a 'bar' to set up.  I say bar in the loosest sense of the word; what I was taken to appeared to be a large umbrella with a couple of fridges stolen from a local Spar (other newsagents are available). 
  Revellers arrived, undeterred by the outdoor shower that had assembled over the ground, including a few ambitious middle aged men wearing board shorts and flip flops (causing me to wonder how much booze must be consumed to make them feel less than 'hypothermicly cold').  
  My colleagues and I took it in turns to huddle in between the stolen fridges, which acted as wonderful makeshift campfires.  As with every cricket match i've ever worked, the 'real ale society' were out in force.  These are the kind of men that look at you as if you've just told them that you've been sleeping with their wife for the past decade, and are in fact the real father of their children whenever you utter the phrase 'no bitter on this bar i'm afraid', and then direct them to a bar 10 yards away.
  A couple of times, groundsmen wondered around the ground shifting the covers to different areas, and causing the ground to cheer with giddiness at the chance of play.  A girl next to me mused loudly 'Gosh, why can't they just play in the rain?  They play football in the rain'.  I tried to explain the concept of bounce and the need for a good wicket, but this when this was met by a glazed over stare I resign myself of joining in the conversation on the need to erect a giant moving roof ala Wimbledon over Old Trafford, with teeth gritted in a way I've only ever seen on Gatecrasher attendees at 4am.
  But at 3pm, when it was announce that there would be no further pitch inspection until 5.30, and staff were being asked to volunteer to finish, my hand went up so fast I clipped a fellow on my right on the chin (oops).  Now I love cricket, but even my stirring loins when looking at Alistair Cook and Stephen Finn will not allow me to tolerate standing in a monsoon for minimum wage.
  More fool me.
  When play did start at a reduced 29 overs per side, we once again triumphed, ruining the Aussies by 7 wickets (click for scorecard) :D  filling me with more confidence for the Ashes next year; I plan on attending the final test at the SCG with an Aussie friend of mine...I'll be taking a helmet for inevitable torrade of abuse, last time I watched the Ashes in Australia was Boxing Day 2010 (click for Telegraph report) when I danced drunkenly on a table at the first innings all-out for 98. 


So to finish a rather pointless ramble I say this - 
People of Britain, if the England cricket team can still triumph in rain, we should adopt some of that spirit.  Wear your shorts (with tights), rock those sunglasses (underneath an umbrella), and continue that beer garden spirit!  Just grad a table close to the heater...

Annnd I'm back!

Dear Listener,

Having taken a rather long hiatus due to general laziness, I have returned!

And I come to you from a new mysterious place, the realms of which are still quite uncharted to me...yes that's right, I now live in 'the North'!  Lancaster to be specific!

I have decided to take another obscure course and return to university, as one bout of rampant liver abuse and general debauchery was in fact not enough for me!  Although this time I have gone 3 months early, for I wish to get this 'fear' and do something different.  So far it would appear I have moved to the 'Guildford of the North' (cobbled streets, farmers market, coffee house every 20 yards...you get where I'm going).  But alas!  This shall be fun!

Now my first step is to get behind a bar again, god I genuinely do miss being covered in beer and aching, I think that's the masochist in me but if this the extent of it then I guess that's pretty safe!  After that I intend to dance, paint and make the usual steps into becoming a hippy...anyone for hemp?

In the meantime, I shall take this Winding Wheel drinkers anthem and walk around skipping!  Thank you to all you Wheelers who've provided me with entertainment, drinking, banter and wonderful friendships this past year, miss ya already!

Loves n stuff!

My Murkey Paradise...

In revisit to a notion I briefly dabbled in as a student, I have decided to once again bar tend my way into events I either can't afford to go to or forgot were on before the tickets sold out.  So having signed up with the appropriate temp company, I worked the Stone Roses homecoming weekend of gigs at Heaton Park Manchester.  Awesomo!


My summary of the weekend:


Weather - 
Tenderly walking the line between 'utterly shite' and 'oh look, a ray of sunshine'.  Cold, windy, muddy.  I proceeded to wear all of my black clothing at the same time and encase myself in a poncho, like vacuum-packed drink-serving Barbie.


The Crowd - 
Amazing, in every way!  Majority of the revellers wore a very though-out uniform; the 'Ian Brown haircut' (inc obligatory side burns), parkas, the 'Reni hat', band t-shits, and  some of the most trenchfoot promising footwear ever to be misguidely worn (-Toms, at an outdoor gig in the north-west, really?!).  There was a gloriously electric atmosphere that everyone was about to witness something special, that they had been waiting for since the first time they heard the opening bass on 'I Wanna Be Adored', and as such gave for a truly pleasurable experience and great banter!  Particular praise goes to 2 young Bristolians, who spent a good 20 minutes showing me their homemade tattoos on their bottoms done on each other after 'a few e's and some booze', which meant that due to some interesting handwriting it would appear that one of their desires to have the Kings of Leon song 'Revelry' on his chest is now a permanent homage to "Beverly', whoever she is...
My only complaint was a security f*** up which resulted in my bar being stormed by about 500 smashed people (one of the darlings made a short film, bless), legging it with booze and creating a 'beer fountain'.  They timed it well though, Primal Scream were playing 'Loaded', apt.


The Bands - 
3 days of The Wailers prompted 3 different reactions; Day 1, 'oh cool The Wailers'.  Day 2, 'The Wailers sound a bit samey today. Day 3 - 'Christ they're boring, how long is this set!'
Kid British and Dirty North had a gorgeously British Rock n Roll arrogance i've not heard in a long time and they can really play too.  I will be keeping an eye on these guys, something very 80's indie about both bands, when everything was relevant ya know...
The Vaccines are a band that have bored me on the radio, live they stunned me!  Loved them, I will buy the album begrudgingly, and go find a live gig, very exciting live.
Plan B and Professor Green (the latter expressing his fear of the northern crowd, hmmm) did what they needed to do and sounded great.  I'm not massive on either of these in general, but credit where it's due they sounded great and everyone had a good dance - even I shook my cling film encased booty to 'Remedy' and 'Recluse'.  Lovely.
Primal Scream, I'm sure they were great, but I spent most of their set hiding from a mob on the back of a beer tankard (it holds 50,000 pints, and if it was gonna get popped i wanted my share)-so great riot music it would seem.
Beady Eye were very entertaining, even playing a few Oasis classics which made it even more 'Manchester-tastic' and really added something extra to the day!


And finally...The Stone Roses - 
F***ING BRILLIANT!!!!!!!  I mean really, amazing!  As a band they got tighter throughout the weekend; I've never heard harmonies so subtly beautiful layered over ball-crunching drums, a bass impossible not to nod too and a guitar that captivated every ear - the entire crowd hung on to every note coming from John Squire.  As the gig went on my colleagues, the punters and I all exchanged little electric looks and sly smiles of giddy excitement.  It was everything I could want and more - and I was getting PAID to be there, ye gods!  The NME website has some great pic on it, check them out.  After the gig the atmosphere in the city was of shared excitement and a sense of ownership.  I am by no furthest stretch of the imagination a Manc, but it felt like the city had reclaimed its boys and its place in musical history, it was a pleasure to be part of.


Unfortunately I can't find any good live footage, so here's my favourite song of there's...This was definitely the One