Miss me?

Wow, I've been gone for two whole(ish) weeks. Bet you thought I'd given up didn't you. Never.

Actually in a way I sort of did. I have some random, and often quite severe, mood changes. I was talking about that a little in my last blog entry. Well, things got a little worse before they got better. I'm not gong to go into detail here, but when I get in to these kind of moods I just can’t do anything. Then, when it all goes away, I find it hard to work out why I was so screwed up in the first place. I have absolutely no control over the moods either, and it's not like anything tangible sets them off. It seems to be totally random, like I have a dimmer switch in my brain that turns up the depression.

But I'm OK now. Well, not OK, but at lest I’m not on the dark side of the mood swing-o-meter.

Like I said, nothing in particular really sets me off, but there are certain signs that I’m headed in the wrong direction. I start doing things like checking out friends reunited to see how lacking in success I am compared to old and long since abandoned university acquaintances are, all so as I can remind myself of how comparatively crap I am. Then I’ll spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about ex-girlfriends, thin king about how they were probably right to dump me all along (I do this even when I dumped them, reality is meaningless when I’m in one of these moods, the only think that matters is making me feel worse). Then I start to hope that things will go wrong just so that I can feel that short moment of elation as my assertion that my life is crap is once more proven right, all because I managed to drop a glass or something equally inconsequential. That’s terribly masochistic isn’t it?

Sometimes, I do start feeling better if I’m doing something I enjoy. Watching an old favourite TV show often helps. This time I whacked my DVD boxset of “Firefly” into the DVD player (though not all at once, I expect it would break) which seems, thus far, to be working. I expect it will only stop working when I finish episode 14, commiserate the fact that there will be no more episodes since the idiots at Fox cancelled the show and subsequently fall into a catatonic depression (if such a thing exists). Either that or I’ll find something else to watch, or maybe even a job. Oh yes, finding a job. Having finished the application for the PC magazine I asked my little sister (the teacher) to have a look at it. Almost two weeks later I’ve finally got it back (I hope she's faster at marking the little kiddies work) with a very teacherly note on it saying “Very Good”. Still, at least no misspelled words are underlined with red ink, which possibly means that there aren’t any. Of course it could simply indicate that she never bothered to read it and therefore didn’t manage to pick up on my poor spelling/grammar. Either way, it’s probably best if I check it over myself before I send it off.

Those of you who know me will know that things have been pretty bad for me this year. All the crap that went on at my last job has left me, in my dark moments, lacking confidence and generally feeling a little less than adequate. When I’m ok, there’s just a general undertone, a background noise of inadequacy. Sort of like people whispering just a fraction too quietly to be heard. When someone flicks the switch it’s like they’re sitting right next to me shouting in my ear, impossible to ignore. Now that I think about it my mum almost literally does that to me a great deal. I say almost, because she tends to sit (or stand) away from me when she’s deriding me. I often wonder what I’d be like with a little encouragement, what I’d be able to achieve. I guess I could answer that by looking at where I got to before my dad (who a great deal more helpful) died. With things as they are it’s a wonder that I manage to get out of bed at all.

Actually it’s been pretty crap most years since I left university, which is why I’m really hoping 2007 is better. I’d kind of hoped to start it, as tradition dictates, by going to some kind of New Years Eve event. I haven’t managed to find somewhere to go as yet, but that may not actually matter. With the number of my friends willing to participate dwindling on a daily basis, it’s looking increasingly unlikely that there’ll be enough left to make anything worthwhile. A bad omen for the year ahead perhaps.

Maybe it doesn’t matter anyway. I haven’t been sleeping well of late, waking up frequently during the night not being able to get to sleep in the first place. Added to that, I feel like crap because I seem to have put on a ton (not quite literally though) of weight. So I look like crap too, meaning any chances of pulling have gone south. Not that pulling would be the only reason to go, but it would certainly be nice. After all, it’s been a while. Well, regardless there probably wasn’t much chance anyway.

Enough maudlin shit, as I said, I’m feeling better now, but still not great. Just mediocre (a word that sums me up to a certain extent, but at least I can joke about that without bursting into tears).

So, what’s happened to me in the last couple of weeks?

I’ll go chronologically backwards. But not today. For now I’ve a little more Firefly to watch before bedtime. And I really have to start going to sleep earlier especially if I’m going to make it to the Coal Hole for 12pm on Friday to meet up with friends.

Also on my mind right now.

I was gong to say something about the other subject that was on my mind right now, However, after the longest post ever I've decided to hold it over for another day. I'd been thinking about someone a lot over the last few days and I just wanted to talk about the whole situation here, but given that it's 5.30am I think that that I should probably go to bed. I expect that it will probably be another long post and I'm pretty tired so...

Tomorrow I should also finish off that job application and maybe get some exercise. Exercise is something else I've been neglecting over the past few weeks. Admittedly I'd left the weights alone because I'd strained my shoulder (though I think I did it due to the awkward position I adopt whilst I use my desktop PC. I sit on the chair the wrong way round lean my left side across the back, with my left hand hovering over the keyboard and my right arm stretched way too much across to the mouse on the right hand side of the desk.) Regardless, I shouldn't have let that stop me from doing everything else. It's easy for me to stop though. Years ago a friend told me that she was quite literally addicted to going to the gym. She'd wake up and want to exercise. I don't seem to have that problem

Anyway, I'm feeling (and looking) a little flabby at the moment. I have been trying (I should emphasise trying because I haven't always been successful) to eat a little better and a little less too, so I'm hoping that will help.

I wonder if lack of exercise has also been a factor in my recent spell of depression?

Not Great

I've not been feeling too great recently, which is why I haven't posted for a while. Aside from trips to Sainsbury (one of which really fucked me off, but I maybe speak of that later) and a trip to John Lewis in Watford, I haven't actually left the house for about 10 days, pretty much the same amount of time since my last blog entry. I've just been feeling a little depressed of late. I've been feeling as if I'm never going to get out of here, I'm never going to find a job that won't make me dread getting up in the morning and subsequently I'm never going to be able to afford to buy my own place (especially with the way house prices are rising). I heard couple of days ago that I didn't get the job at the ASA, they didn't even want to interview me. I really don't understand why I can't get interviews. My CV is pretty good, I would say, but perhaps I need to exaggerate my achievements and tell a few lies. I hear that employers now expect your CV to be somewhat fictitious and downgrade their expectations accordingly. If they're doing that to my entirely truthful CV then... well they're not exactly getting an accurate picture of what I can do. I'm applying for another job this week though. I'd be working at a PC magazine as a staff writer. I expect that my chances of getting it are fairly slim, after all, I have no journalistic experience and there's bound to be somebody who's better qualified. Still, I suppose I'd better try. The application requires me to send in a review of my PC in the style of the magazine. I'm having some trouble keeping within the 500 word limit that they set; after all, every single one of the reviews I read on their website ran to about 750 words. So far I've got it down to about 600 words, but it’s now got to the point that I am no longer able to write things more succinctly without them loosing their meaning. Bah, I'm sure I'll finish within the limit somehow. I doubt that it will do me any good though. We'll see.

Actually, I'm starting to feel a little better as I write, which leaves me wondering. Have I been neglecting my writing because I haven't been feeling great? Or have I not been feeling great because I've been neglecting my writing? Hmm, one to ponder I think.

Well, the John Lewis trip brought about some good news; we’ve finally got a new television. The old 29” Sony CRT TV broke about 4 or 5 months ago. After a couple of attempts to get it repaired the TV was junked. The first place we took it to claimed to have got it sorted, but it broke down within a few hours of getting it home. A refund was duly given, but he still insisted on taking £20 to have a look at it, a charge that I don’t think should be applicable if he couldn’t mend it. As ever, my Mum acquiesced and the man got his money. I’d have argued. A lot. The next place reckoned that it would cost too much to fix. At that point we abandoned it. It’s a shame, the picture quality was great. All that was wrong with it was that it kept switching itself off every so often (though sometimes it would take a number of tries to get it to go back on). We’d had it for about 11 or 12 years, my dad had bought it after he got made redundant/retired, so that kind of made it even more of a shame. Anyway, since we finally gave up on it we’ve been using a tiny 20” Samsung CRT TV. Needless to say I haven’t been bothering to watch TV in the living room much. Instead I’ve made use of the 25” Sony TV in my bedroom (at least 15 years old and still going strong. It used to belong to my Grandma but she died about 8 years ago and I’ve had it ever since. I’ve had to spend about £100 on repairs since I’ve had it, strangely enough it was switching itself off too, but it’s been fine for the last couple of years and shows no sign of breaking, With my situation being what it is I’d rather it stayed working for a fair while longer too). The new TV is a bang(ish) up to date HDTV ready 32” LCD widescreen Toshiba. Compared to the old 20” it’s massive. However, because it has to display pictures from the sky box of a lower resolution than its native 1366x768 the picture actually looks a little worse than the old Sony. Still, I guess it’ll all be worth it when it’s coupled to an Xbox 360, HD-DVD player (I expect that Blu-ray will prove to be the Betamax of the High def DVD wars and fall by the wayside), and something capable of receiving some actual HD broadcasts, either through Sky HD or HD Freeview (if they ever start that properly and manage to improve freeview reception to my house; we appear to be in a small digital terrestrial blackspot. That said, analogue reception is crap too so the aerial could be partially to blame, as could the height of the flats across the road.) then I’m sure that it’s going to look way better. It was £800, more than Amazon charge, but John Lewis give you a 5 year warranty, so I suppose it’s not too bad a deal.

As I said before, other than that I’ve only been to Sainsbury’s which has been getting increasingly busy the closer we get to Christmas. On one of my visits (one where I was getting absolutely nothing for myself) I had yet more proof that there are an awful lot of wankers out there. Parking was limited and I’d had to drive around for about 10 minutes to find one. Eventually I noticed that a car was about to leave, so I duly stopped my car and began to indicate. They what seemed like a couple of minutes to drive off. I suspect that they wanted to go the wrong way along the car parks one way system, but since my car was blocking their path they couldn’t. They oddly chose to take the longest other route out which meant that I had to wait a second whilst they got out of the way. In the meantime, some bastard in a clapped out maroon H reg Ford Sierra (lot of detail there) pulled out of the queue of traffic that was snaking around the car park down the wrong way of the isle where the space was, and crookedly (in both senses of the word) parked his car in MY space. Bastard. I immediately honked my horn at him. He acted as though he were oblivious, shut off his engine and opened his car door. As he got out of his car I wound the window down the window. “Hey” I said “that’s my space, I’ve been waiting there for ages. Didn’t you see me indicate?” “Oh, were you. Sorry about that.” “That’s fine I said, expecting him to evacuate the ill gotten space. But the arrogant bastard didn’t head back inside his car “So, aren’t you going to move.” I asked, stern but polite. “No” he replied. “But that’s my space. I’ve been waiting for ages to get in there. I was here first” I protested. “He arrogantly responded “But I got in there first so it’s mine.” What an arsehole. By this point he was right outside my window. He looked like he was in his late fifties to early sixties; maybe he was younger but just very badly preserved. He looked scruffy with wisps of unkempt grey hair sitting atop his head with its pock marked face. He wore a grey anorak. He looked like a paedophile, or at the very least a dirty old man.

“Didn’t you see me indicating?” I asked. “No, I didn’t sorry” Two lies in one sentence; he clearly saw me indicating and he quite obviously wasn’t sorry.” Look, that’s my space are you going to, move.” “No. I’m not.” “I can’t believe that you just did that. Not only did you steal a space that I was obviously waiting for, you drove the wrong way up a wrong way road to get to it.” After all, had I move just a hair quicker he’d have simply smashed into my car. I only didn’t move more quickly because I could see that he was quite willing to collide with my car just to get the space.

“I don’t see what the problem is, I’m only going to be a couple of minutes.” he said selfishly, without a hint of regret or compassion. “It’s my space. Move your car.” “No”. “Wanker.” I shouted loudly before honking my horn again. He just walked away, no doubt going off to abuse some children or perve on teenaged girls.

A few minutes later, after rejoining the long queue of traffic I managed to find a space. As I walked towards the shop I noticed the bastard’s car. I gave serious thought to keying his car. I’m not sure why I didn’t. He certainly deserved it, bit something stopped me. I even went to give his tyres a kick but stopped just short of their badly worn rubber. I went inside and hurriedly did my shopping. It occurred to me that he might do something to my infinitely more expensive car (okay, it’s not worth a huge amount, but it’s probably worth x100 more than his piece of shit. I thought once again about keying his car as I went past it. I couldn’t though, it was gone. I checked on my own car. Fortunately there wasn’t any damage. It occurred to me that had I scratched his paintwork before I’d gone in he’d have been more likely to go after my car. It was probably a good ting that I did it. Besides, I realised, I’m not that vindictive. Well, I am pretty vindictive (I once publically chucked a drink at someone because he went back on a legitimate bet. He had to be physically restrained as I turned my back on him and walked of to the bar, complaining that I now had to buy a new drink), but I guess even I stop at illegal acts of vandalism. As I said, he might have decided to take revenge in my car so it was probably for the best. Then again, his car was such a wreck, that he probably wouldn’t have even noticed.

The problem is I still think that people who do tings that make the lives of others that little but worse simply shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this sort of thing. There should be some kind of karmic punishment. Maybe there will be at some point, unbeknownst to me, but my need for instant gratification makes me feel that I should be the instrument of karma. I’d usually feel guilty about doing bad things, but he would have deserved it. Besides, if I were only acting as the instrument of Karma I would actually be doing a good thing by, in a way, helping to bring balance back to the universe.

Actually, I really do hate that kind of thing. It’s those small acts of unkindness, of impoliteness and of selfishness that helps incrementally to make the world a far worse place. Just think about it. How much less inclined are you to do a nice thing when somebody’s just done something nasty to you. I mean it could be a small something, like letting a door shut in your face, or cutting you up, dropping litter, whatever. But it all goes towards making you feel a little less kind. And ten maybe you won’t bother to say thank you when somebody lets you out of a side road, they get pissed off and don’t bother to help an old person who’s trying to carry a heavy bag down a steep flight of steps. It’s a long chain that continues until everybody gradually becomes and unhelpful bitter old man who steal parking spaces and abuses kids.

Maybe I’m overstating it; maybe things don’t actually work like that. At least not for everybody else. Yeah, maybe it’s just me who feels that way. I doubt it though.

So for my part I’m going to try to break the chain as often as I can. If somebody’s crap to me I’m going to be especially nice to someone else the next time I have the opportunity. Actually right after my parking space was stolen almost straight away I had the chance to pilfer a space over which someone else had priority. But I didn’t. I guess I’m not anywhere near becoming that sad, bitter, old man in a clapped out old Sierra (who probably needed the space in a hurry because it was time for the local schoolchildren to leave). Not yet anyway. And I hope not ever.

And if you have the chance, maybe you could do likewise. Maybe, if we all did that the world would be just that little more bearable.

Dear Daily Mail - An uncontrolled rant

I was reading through a forum just now and I noticed a post from someone about how they thought footballers are overpaid. Fair enough, I thought, they are overpaid. Below someone had replied in agreement. However, they’d also made the point that there are other jobs far more worthy of high salaries and they included plumbers and builders as examples. Below is the full, unedited, text of my response.

"If you've ever needed to get a leaking tap fixed you'll realise that plumbers already get paid way too much. It wouldn't be so bad if they were even vaguely reliable, but I get the feeling that people from the aforementioned groups tend to hold their "skills" ransom, turn up whenever they feel like it and charge you an arm and a leg whenever they deign you worthy of their presence.

When I was at university I rented a house from a guy who made his living as a plumber. Having seen the size of his personal house I can assure you that he was in no need of further remuneration. And would he ever put his hand in his pocket to fix any problems with the house he was renting us?

For the money I'd become a plumber if only I were the sort of person who could live with myself after charging some poor old lady £100 from her meagre state pension for changing a washer.

Try teachers, nurses, firemen and policemen (and women) if you want groups of people who should be paid more.

Oh, and add, London Transport workers to the groups of people who should be paid less. Barely a brain cell between the lot of them and they still get paid more money and do less work than, say, a firefighter. Well, I mean they do less work when they have to go in, which isn't that often when you consider how much holiday time they have in relation to people in other, less well paid lines of work. It makes me sick that they strike so much, especially last year when they struck in a failed attempt to put the kibosh on many Londoners New Years Eve plans. I thought the idea of a strike was to financially inconvenience employers. Given that traditionally the tube is free on NYE all they were going to do was antagonise the general public, many of whom simply wanted to celebrate the coming of the New Year.

Most of the ones I've encountered (though not all of them) are ill mannered, rude and downright unhelpful. They barely ear a tenth of their salary if you ask me.

Yes, footballers do get paid far too much, but at least I don't have to put my hand in my own pocket every time one of them scores a goal. If the people who run the football clubs think that they're worth it then good luck to them. It's all to do with market forces I guess. People are prepared to pay for their exorbitantly priced season tickets that pay these overpaid idiots. Sponsors are prepared to shell out vast quantities of cash so the these "celebrities" endorse their products, which, they hope, will persuade Joe public to spend his hard earned cash on whatever rubbish they're selling. And it works, because people can be so easily led.

It's just a shame that the vast majority of footballers tend to piss away their earnings on some of the most lavish tat known to man. At least that's what they do when their not starting fights in nightclubs after an evening drinking overpriced champagne, living the so-called high life. If their not doing that they're sleeping with women who sell their stories to the tabloids for vast amounts of cash. And why do the tabloids pay so much for these kind of stories? Because there are people out their willing to buy this rubbish, and the thought of that makes me incredibly sad.

That's the problem with "celebrity" culture. People hear about all these "stars" getting away with murder (in the case of OJ Simpson, quite literally) and they think it's OK to behave like anti-social morons. It's effectively celebrity endorsement of hooliganism, every bit as effective as any advertising. Quite how Pete Doherty has managed to escape prison, having been tried for Drug possession is beyond me. So kids, apparently its OK to be a junkie because at worst you'll get a (proportionally) small fine (I think he was finned £770, probably substantially less than it cost to arrest him and take him to court) and told not to do it again. At least until the next time when the whole process is repeated again ad infinitum.

Sorry, rant over. Perhaps next time I feel like this I'll just write a letter to the Daily Mail or something."

And I could easily have gone on too. Every 5 minutes for about 20 minutes after I initially posted I kept coming up with more things to add. So, I edited my post and above is the final result. I'm still coming up with more things to add, but I thought that I'd better leave it there. It was after all just a forum about video games. I have a little more to say about video games too, but I'll leave that for another post.

At the end of my forum entry I was going to add the sentence "And you can say what you like about organised religion, after all I'm neither a proponent of it nor am I a believer, but at least in Jesus Christ it provided a reasonably suitable role model for today’s youth. Certainly more suitable than Jade bloody Goodie, who whatever new reprobate has been evicted from Big Brother this week. No wonder the county is going to hell"

I was going to add that (and, now that I think about it, so much more), but I thought that it may have been a step to far.

I think that the very fact that I went on so much suggests that I'm not all that happy (or that I may possibly be able to get a job on "Grumpy Old Men. Or maybe both).

First Cars

I can't believe it. Lee's actually bought a car (I've decided to come over all Ceasar-ish and write my journals in the third person. I'm not talking about myself, I can assure you). If you're reading this Lee, happy motoring.

Back in March I bought myself a new car, only my second since I passed my test back in August of 1995. For eight and a half years I drove an M-reg 1995 Vauxhall Corsa, originally in "Flame" red but latterly in partial pink. Never buy a red, non-metallic car, it will inevitably turn pink, or possibly orange. But, in spite of its cosmetic faults I truly loved that car. Aside from a dodgy window (that was eventually fixed by the incompetents at my local Vauxhall dealer after about four attempts at fixing the wrong part), it never went wrong in any major way. I had a couple of accidents in it, neither of which were my fault, at least as far as the insurance companies were concerned. I might have been responsible for the multi-car pile up that ensued after I mistook a right turning stop light for a straight on one whilst on my way to Kingston. The cars behind me were too close and piled into each other in my wake. I escaped after a small bump in the rear from the car behind which left me entirely unscathed. The other accident where some idiot in a tiny Bedford van pulled out from a side road on me was entirely his fault. I managed to stop just about in time, only lightly bumping the imbecile, only to have the fool move the van across my front scraping my bumper. The cheeky bastard had the gall to say that it didn’t matter if my car was a bit damaged since my paint was so faded. Bastard. I’m glad I eventually got the money put of him, but not before some considerable trouble with my insurance company. The bastards took months sort it out. They even tried to charge me more for my renewal because the claim hadn’t been settled. I actually had to say that I wasn’t going to pursue the claim to get a cheap renewal (in the end I found a new insurance company. Actually, the same insurance company through a different broker that somehow worked out drastically cheaper.), but fortunately, a week later, I got a letter from the idiot van drivers insurance company saying that they were going to pay for my repairs. Very serendipitous.

But there are good memories that go along with my little Corsa. It was the car that saw me through 4 of my 5 university years (I only got it just before my second year when I was living quite a way off campus). People I loved travelled with me in that car, friends that I cherished. One friend even tried to name it Colin (alliteration again). It didn’t stick.

It was reliable, I don’t remember it ever letting me down, but in the last few months I started to worry that it would. I worried enough to buy a new car, a 2002 Vauxhall Astra 1.6 litre SXi in Blue (my favourite colour) from a dealer in Reading (equally useless, they gave me a flat battery. Fortunately I made the journey back without stalling. The dead battery would have prevented me from getting it going again.) On the way there I hit terrible traffic. A journey that should have taken little more than an hour took nearly three times that. My little Corsa held just about made the final journey, though the wheezing coming from the front suggested that it was more than a little sick.

Just as I drove away from the dealer in my new car I looked back at the little red Corsa that had been my companion for so long, The little, red Corsa that I had shard so much with. I bid it a fond farewell. It was time to move on, I knew that. The trip to Reading had proved as much. But I still felt like I was leaving an important part of my past behind in a dealers forecourt in Reading.

So Lee, enjoy your first car. You’ll never have another like it.

MInd the Gaps

Note to self. Remember to eat before going out drinking.

After about 10pm I only remember bits of last night. Small patches do keep coming back to me. We went to the Maple Leaf in Covent Garden. I still remember that. Jamie was waiting for me at the station when I arrived. I was 5 minutes late, but that's too bad considering how late I left. I figured we'd start off at the Maple Leaf then head over to that Irish pub near Piccadilly Circus (O'Something or another'; yeah, I guess that's a pretty safe bet). As it turned out we stayed there for the whole evening (actually I think that Luke and his friends, possibly Jamie too, ended up at The Walkabout on Embankment). That's the problem with the Maple Leaf; it's such a great place to be and practically impossible to leave if get lucky and find a table. Admittedly I'm not too fond of the log cabin style refurb. And they got rid of the "Molson" chair. A portrait of John Molson (the man behind my hangover) hung over an inactive fireplace. In front of that was a table and a high backed, leather arm chair, the "Molson Chair". It was sort of chair that you'd expect to see being used by a man sporting a large handlebar moustache, smoking a pipe as he enjoys a good single malt whisky at his preferred gentleman's club. In the old days, when the Maple Leaf was just a little less busy we always made a beeline for the Molson chair. It's still there, but it’s no longer at the back of the bar by the fireplace underneath the portrait of John Molson. They've moved the portrait too. Nobody bothers to go for the chair anymore. Still, at least Bernie the stuffed (and slightly anorexic) bear is still about. Hmm, all of that sounded like it was building up to be metaphor for something. Well, except for the bit about Bernie (and it’s not like we’ve ever called him that; I’ve only just arbitrarily decided on an alliterative name for him).

Anyway, surprise of the night came when Luke turned up, complete with a girl from his office. She looked a little unassuming at first, wrapped up in a ¾ length, blue/green coat, but when she took it off she revealed a slender East Asian form, cloaked, very lightly, by a tight blue bustier-esqe top that cupped her small, but shapely breasts. If only I could remember the conversation as well as the breasts. I did talk to her for a wile. I’m told I was quite funny, if a little over the top with my good natured banter about Luke’s many deficiencies. Still, even if I was funny and charming it was all for naught; I found out later that the girl, Joyce, yes that was her name, was married, even though she wore no ring. I wasn’t interested of course. At the risk of being crass Luke had dibs anyway. No, I had no real interest in Joyce besides using her as a means by which I could keep myself amused, to prove that I could still hold the attention of a pretty girl if I so wished. It helped that I was in something of an exuberant mood at the evenings beginning. Even before the alcohol that followed. In another state of mind I would have undoubtedly found it less easy.

Now that I think about it, perhaps, conversely, my lack of any real interest in the subject (so clinical) rendered the exercise entirely pointless anyway. Still, it made me feel better for a short while.

Shots were ordered and I made Jamie seem foolish in front of the barmaid he fancied (at least that’s what the tell me). Jamie bears me no ill will; apparently he has no memory if it either.

Some other people turned up; I assumed they more of Luke’s work collegues, apparently only one of the three was.

I’ll reiterate my earlier point. It is essential that I eat BEFORE I go out.

I left at some point, of that I’m sure. It was an indeterminate amount of time after Ben and Craig left, but maybe not before Jamie. Certainly it was before Luke and his rapidly expanding entourage left (they went on to join Rosh at his gathering for the 19 year old girl, whoever she was, at the Walkabout). I vaguely remember finding myself walking across Trafalgar square, not my usual route to Piccadilly Circus (where I’d usually get the Bakerloo line, but not that day); the result, I think of an abortive attempt to go to the Strand branch of McDonalds for a burger. Quite what was wrong with the Leicester Square branch that I would pass by had I taken my regular path, I don’t know. Quite why I didn’t go for the burger after all I don’t know either. Maybe it had something to do with how queasy I felt going back on the Piccadilly Line to Rayners Lane (obviously I couldn’t muster the strength to change trains so as I could go directly to my closest station). Luckily the toilets weren’t open. The local youth must have decided to ply their vandalistic trade elsewhere that weekend. I continued to be unwell when I got home. For the first night in weeks, I had no trouble sleeping.

I notice that I’m naming names today. If anybody who reds this has any objections I’ll remove them. I’m Lee by the way.

Why did I bother?

I got a call from Craig at lunch time today. In truth it woke me up, but still, I'd been woken up a few times already by that point anyway. He wanted to play Halo 2 later. To sleepy to come up with a good reason why didn't want to (retrospectively I probably should have simply said "I don't want to") I said yes. So at about 9pm he called and, a while later (it was about 9.30pm, but it seemed like quite a while) we started playing. It was just as bloody awful as I remembered. Hordes of screaming, sub-literate American kids, gleefully attempting to mock you for your accent or kill you deliberately even though they're on your team. Then you have to put up with laggy game play where your efforts are seemingly further hampered by the unfair advantage that Xbox 360 owners seem to have with what appears to be a far more accurate and deadly auto aim, meaning that you die about twice as quickly as your richer (at least their parents are richer), younger, whinier, transatlantic cousins. That's if the Yank kids haven't already quit because they've gone 1-0 down after 30 seconds of the game. In the end the whole thing was starting to wind me up so much that I simply gave up bothering to play properly. In the past I even managed to get so pissed off with the uneven playing field that I threw my joypad on the floor. This would have been fine, the joypad's quite sturdy after all, unfortunately it's connected to the headset, which is nowhere near as well but and promptly snapped as it came off my head.

It wasn't fun. I probably won't renew my Xbox live subscription when it expires in February. I'm starting to think that Xbox live is a major contributing factor towards the rest of the worlds hatred towards America. I really do hope that the miscreants one encounters on Xbox live aren't in any way representative of the US population as a whole.

Craig has an Xbox 360. I'll probably never get one. He's been trying to persuade me to get one. He talks as if it's inevitability. It really isn't.

So, a complete waste of an evening. Sort of. I suppose at least now I know that I'm not missing out on anything good by leaving my Xbox turned off.