Mar. 6th, 2017 10:25 pm
keresaspa: (Default)
*Insert weak joke about visiting Edinburgh lots before waffling for ages about most recent visit*

Therefore )


Oct. 8th, 2016 12:33 pm
keresaspa: (Gus Goose)
Such is the regularity with which I go to Edinburgh these days that it hardly seems worth mentioning.

But let's anyway )
keresaspa: (Cartman)
Every time I post to this now I seem to begin with a note to excuse my absence due to the paucity of updates. What can I say, less than auspicious days recently. In the meanwhile however a standing engagement in Edinburgh took me across the sea once more and, as ever, I shall betell the events.

Lay on, MacDuff )
keresaspa: (Reiko Ike)
I am nothing if not a procrastinator and yet I appear to have been rather on the ball this year (well, all ten days of it) when it comes to my holidays. As such I find myself with the annual London and the Twelfth thing already booked, not to mention a run out to Edinburgh towards the end of April. The latter, itself becoming something of an annual tradition (albeit a movable feast), was prompted by the return visit of Shonen Knife and the sudden desire to see them once again. Happily a ticket for said event has already been secured and I can look forward to seeing them - or indeed any live band - for the first time in six years. The way the football is falling may also mean a return to Dunfermline but we'll worry about nearer for the time and instead concentrate on Shonen Knife = yay.

So yeah, that's the lot. I must return to the darts final as I appear to be winning at a canter (well, Scott Waites is but we've already established he is my doppelgänger) and I don't want to miss my triumph.


Oct. 10th, 2015 10:14 pm
keresaspa: (Obelix)
Such is the regularity with which I visit dear Edinburgh these days that it hardly seems worth kicking this thing into life just to describe the latest visit. Still, it's a pattern I've established these last twelve years or so and as such it must continue. If there is a moral to this story let it be thus - don't walk backwards, it gets on everybody's tits.

Mulch )
keresaspa: (Percy Sugden)
It's convention that I recount in some detail the events surrounding any journeys I make for the entertainment of the reading none so I suppose I shouldn't break from that tradition following my recent excursion to the occupied territory of Scotland. So without further Apu:

Edinburgh and environs )
keresaspa: (Cassidy says...)
I was probably about six years of age when I decided that I might start supporting Glasgow Celtic. As decisions went it was hardly the most radical one I ever made. In Northern Ireland the general rule is if you're a Taig you support Celtic, if you're a Prod you support Rangers. Both sides have their naysayers - be they those not interested in football, those not interested in Scottish football or those hardy few that support another Scottish club - and on both sides you get the very odd wind-up merchant who decides to support the opposite team as a piss-take (possibly the most notorious example being Glen Branagh, a member of the UDA's youth wing the UYM who died in rioting and was buried in a Celtic top). Nonetheless it tends to be what you would expect and so I fell into line as a youth, declaring myself a Celtic die-hard.

Down the years my fire began to dampen as I prioritised West Bromwich Albion, began equally looking for the results of Inverness Caledonian Thistle in the Scottish league, found myself rather seduced by Hearts after attending their match to the point that I wouldn't call myself a Celtic supporter at all. Still, I did have a good few years in which I would and yet in that time I never once visited the ground for a match (or indeed, any reason). Of course I saw a version of Celtic play Cliftonville two summers back but an actual visit to Parkhead? No.

Well strike a light as, despite no longer considering myself a supporter, it seems I'm going to go there after all. Later this month I'll be taking a post-birthday break in Edinburgh and it was my intention to take in a match whilst there. Alas and alack for the Hearts and Hibernian are both playing away that week, meaning a non-league tie between Edinburgh University and Hawick Royal Albert was to be my lot. "So be it" I thought, albeit considering it a tad tuppence-ha'penny until I chanced upon the website of Celtic, the opponents of Hearts on the Wednesday night. Given the disillusionment amongst Celtic support these days and the fact that it's only the League Cup tickets galore were to be had and so I decided to snap one up.

And there you have it. After years of being down in the mouth about never getting to go to Celtic I am to finally end up there long after I stopped caring. Still, I always like to get a match in when I'm away and that will be as good as any and I had intended to visit Glasgow for a day anyway. So, good show overall and a rare example of getting what one wants long after one has stopped wanting it. It's a funny old game, innit?


Sep. 27th, 2013 09:52 pm
keresaspa: (Wil Cwac Cwac)
Given how rarely I update this now I suspect my occasional extended absences draw little attention but this one can be explained away by an impromptu post-birthday break to possibly my favourite city - Edinburgh.

I'll leave off details about the flights. Suffice to say both reasonable as flights go, but I still hate flying. My base for the trip was Motel One on the corner of Market Street and Cockburn Street. A very central location thankfully although it was a peculiar place to say the least, with rooms having no wardrobes, only two badly positioned electrical sockets and a television that only worked properly when it felt like it. Seemingly it was part of a German chain as all signs and handouts were primarily in German but the rooms were certainly well designed, if a touch minimalist for my taste. The inevitable problem of keeping milk cool also struck (as it does it nearly every hotel) and my twin solutions - filling the bin with cold water or thrusting the milk bottle into the toilet - both proved unsuccessful with the remains of one Poundland effort even ending up curdled. Still, I didn't come here to talk about milk, did I?

So after arriving at the hotel on Monday I set off on my travels, with the Gorgie area of the city my destination. I had no previous dealings with that side of town but had designed a route from Google Maps and was surprised to find that, for once, my plans proved fool-proof. I arrived at Tynecastle in good time and got my ticket for the forthcoming League Cup match between Heart of Midlothian and Queen of the South. The Hibernian-Stranraer game was also an option but I figured I had previously been to Easter Road and that match was on Tuesday, for which I had other plans. The rest of the day was spent arseing about the familiar old streets, battling with an unseasonable heatwave and struggling in vain to find any supermarkets. Is there a law in Scotland banning supermarkets within three miles of the city centre or something? A nice haddock supper made for a fine repast that evening although it left the room ponging somewhat. Such is life.

Tuesday, as stated, was already earmarked for a specific purpose and that was a day's excursion to Glasgow. I am by no means a strong road traveller but the relatively short coach journey between the two cities played severe havoc with my stomach and a boak was avoided by the skin of my teeth. Glasgow is a city I have criticised on here before and I stand by those criticisms - it is horrendously ugly, having obviously been smacked about by town planners in a similar fashion to Belfast (if you must put new buildings beside old, at least try to match the architecture styles a bit) and the frankly ridiculous levels of drunks and junkies wandering about, regardless of the time of day, is very tedious and makes the whole place seem rather unsafe. However I still enjoyed my time there as it has greatly improved as a shopping venue and I could happily have killed a couple more hours there, even if the habit of checkout people saying "first, please" instead of "next, please" struck me as rather odd. One big gripe though - my God, have the accents ever been diluted! I'm a big fan of the Scottish accent in general, it being one of only two British isles accents I like, but a lot of the Glasgow kids sound like they're from the East End of London these days. Such a shame; you have a lot to answer for Eastenders!

My old stamping ground from 2011, Leith, was my first port of call on Wednesday and I meandered down that seedy old road nostalgically, notwithstanding the incessant pishing rain. Keeping on the two years ago riff, I spent the afternoon knocking about what I believe is called Newington (an altogether more refined area than the run-down republican interface area of the same name in Belfast) before heading back to the hotel. My plans to get a self-made salad for lunch were again thwarted as, just like two years ago, self-service salad bars are still absent from supermarkets despite being as common in Ireland as drunk people. Still, to each his own I suppose. That evening was the match and thankfully the rain had finally done one as I didn't fancy taking the relatively long trot out to Tynecastle in the middle of a downpour. As I took my seat in the Main Stand near the halfway line (always the best spot) I drank in the scene. Tynecastle is more dilapidated than Easter Road, although to be fair Hearts are in dire straits financially so it's only to be expected. Still it's a grand old ground nevertheless and credit to the Queen of the South supporters, who made an ungodly row throughout despite being only a small section of the 8,000 strong crowd. As to the match itself it was, quite frankly, bloody brilliant. Hearts played below their capabilities and the Doonhamers inevitably raised their game making it a blood and guts affair in which Hearts lost the lead three times before going through on a penalty shootout. They both went above and beyond in the entertainment stakes and I left the stadium exhilarated, having watched what was probably the best match as a spectacle that I had ever attended. It was well after eleven before I got back to Princes Street but, as always seems to happen at Edinburgh matches, an unofficial walking bus of supporters ensured total safety in numbers.

Thursday brought a welcome return to fine weather and I decided to get a bus day ticket and explore a few places I didn't know. My first port of call was Corstorphine, a suburb near the airport, and a pretty place the former village was. I killed a while there before returning to the main drag and boarding a bus for Musselburgh. I fancied a spell by the seaside and it seemed as good a place as any, although after nearly three quarters of an hour on the bus and still nowhere near the place I gave up and decamped at an out of town retail park by the name of Fort Kinnaird. As a monument to capitalist consumption it was slightly unnerving and its complete lack of facilities played havoc with my suddenly weak bladder but still, it was somewhere different and I had been mixing Musselburgh up with Helensburgh anyway. My third port of call was Ocean Terminal, which I felt compelled to investigate as it seemingly had a bus running to it every thirty seconds. When I got there it was yet another shopping centre, although this time a vast one nestled in a gentrified area reminiscent of the horrific Titanic Quarter in Belfast. My only thought was that a lot of fine historic dockland must have died to make way for such a monstrosity. To finish the day I partook of the local delicacies by devouring a haggis supper, which I was amazed to find consisted of a long sausage shaped slab of haggis bunged in batter and deep fried. Like haggis isn't fatty enough on its own! Probably not a good idea to eat offal with my blood problems but what the hell, I'm getting needle-stabbed next Friday so they can worry about it then (expect ferritin levels in the mid hundreds).

Home today, albeit with a little time for wandering around in Greyfriars and the surrounding area. All in all though it was a wonderful little break. I don't visit Edinburgh that often but whenever I do I'm always reminded why I'm so fond of the place. A wonderful city and the perfect place to dawdle a few days away.
keresaspa: (Julius Nyerere)
2011 review thing )

Me again

Sep. 30th, 2011 08:19 pm
keresaspa: (Mrs Mack)
Sorry about the sudden break in communication there (like you even noticed) but I have been out of town since Monday. Yes as a late birthday present I hit the road and spent four night in Edinburgh. And a fine time it was too.

It is fair to say that if somebody is at an airport there is an overwhelming probability that they will be either a numb-nuts or a poop-nose. Certainly that is very much the case at Belfast International Airport and my intense hatred of flying was not altered by either experience this time. It's not just the flights themselves (even though they are extremely unpleasant) it is the whole rigmarole that goes along with them, be it having to turn up for a journey a good two hours before it happens, the fact that airports are never anywhere near the places that they are named after or all the unnecessary security fascism that continues a full ten years after the Twin Towers. I mean we can board buses without all that rubbish and they get blown up all the time. So as a consequence of flying being generally crap it was well after four before I arrived in Edinburgh proper and that meant a mad dash from my hotel to Easter Road to get there before five. Yes, for some reason I decided I would go and watch the Hibernian-St. Johnstone match and so I had to get to the ticket office before it closed. No problem in the end leaving me a bit of time to knock about Greyfriars and Cockburn Street where a hipster record shop proved a surprisingly good source of Turkish psychedelia. I managed to explore bits of Leith in the evening before settling down to a fish supper. Kudos to the Scots for continuing to use "supper" rather than the English invention of "and chips" but a big thumbs down for the choice of condiments. Salt and vinegar are, of course, a must, but brown sauce on a fish supper is wrong on so many levels that I don't even know where to begin. The hotel itself was reasonable but I was forced to rescan their Freeview box as it wasn't giving me Challenge TV, which is obviously essential viewing.

On a whim I boarded the train on Tuesday morning and spent the day in scenic Glasgow. Some decent shopping was had but I must say I found the layout of the city very confusing and the fact that a good percentage of the population seemed to be permanently pissed was a little disconcerting. Not a bad day but I'm glad I decided to make Glasgow the city for the day trip and Edinburgh the city to stay in as I much prefer Auld Reekie to Glesga. So about five o'clock I was ready to mosey only to find that my ticket kept being rejected. Consulting with a guard I was told it was an off-peak ticket and as such was invalid until half six unless I paid a bit extra to upgrade. Checking with the ticket office I found out that the "bit extra" was actually £8.40. What a rip-off! Suffice to say I told them to shove it and arsed about for an hour and a half.

A pre-planned route, drawn with the aid of Google Maps some time earlier, was followed on Wednesday, taking me up North Bridge and that as far as Salisbury Place, along the Grange Road and stuff before eventually jigging down Brunsfield as far as Fountainbridge. Inevitably on Google Maps things like that look a straight run that should take about 45 minutes. Inevitably in real life however street signs go walkabout, turnings appear out of nowhere and 45 minutes turns into three hours before you know it. The baking heat, apparently the hottest 28th September on record, didn't help but it was a pleasant enough way to spend the afternoon. Never in my life have I seen so many people who look just like Michelle McManus and I was equally overwhelmed by the ratio of branches of Greggs to supermarkets with salad bars (the mystery of those table-topping performances in the world heart attack leagues becomes less mysterious) but it was a fine way to spend a day nonetheless. The evening was spent at Easter Road in a weird mix of summer and autumn with shirt sleeves temperatures combining with floodlights from the word go. Having not been in a big stadium for around a decade I was initially overwhelmed by the size of the place and took a brief dizzy spell. Before long however I got used to it and I actually seemed very close to the action when it kicked off. The game itself was a belter. In quality terms it was well short of the English game but streets ahead of our local scene and it was interesting to see how inconspicuous the referee was. Challenges that might have brought a red card in England were ignored and the game flowed better for it. Approaching the game as a neutral I soon got caught up in cheering on Hibernian and they didn't disappoint, scoring a couple of excellent goals and a penalty and even conceding a late one to set up a grandstand finish. Top stuff, the Hibees were worth their 3-2 win and Ivan Sproule looked a hell of a player, one eye or not. Magic!

The scorching heat continued on Thursday as I spent the day wandering around the city. I've been to Edinburgh plenty of times before but have never seen a lot of the sights and so I rectified that by taking in the Parliament, the castle, a bunch of old churches and graveyards and the punishing Calton Hill, where I found myself feeling somewhat overcome by heat stroke. By that stage the early darkness was arriving again, combining once more with scorching temperatures, a combination that seemed almost otherworldly. But it was good stuff either way and I thoroughly enjoyed my time catching up with this fine old city again. The journey home was hellish to say the least, involving as it did four hour waits, pissed-up loyalists and standing in the lashing rain for half an hour waiting on a bus but who cares about all that as everything else was just dandy. Good show.
keresaspa: (Giant Haystacks pissed as a frt!)
A picture of your hero sporting his current comedy moustache outside Ian Paisley's own Martyrs' Memorial Church. The reason - why not? Dishy young roustabout aren't I? Oh.

Moving on, we've touched on comedy before here but something caught my eye in the news recently, in amongst all the editorialising about a foreign country dressed up as actual news. It seems that in the annual luvvyfest that is the Edinburgh Festival those who know so much more about what is funny than the rest of us (like anybody can be an expert about something as subjective as what makes you laugh) have voted for this year's funniest and least funny joke. Is it just me or is Paul Daniels' least funny joke actually funnier than the famous Nick Helm's slice of apparent hilarity? Not only that but if one is so bad and the other so great how come they are essentially the same joke i.e. a pun based on the construction of a particular word. If anything "jokes" 6 and 9 are far worse than anything as neither of them appear to be include even an attempt at humour. If they're jokes you might as well say that the statement "I stubbed my toes the other day - it hurt" is a joke!

Far be it from me to claim to know more about humour than the TV channel Dave, which after all broadcasts such truly hilarious fare as Gavin and Stacey, Not Going Out, Miranda and those bloody terrible new episodes of Shooting Stars with that woefully unfunny Angelos character (as opposed to the excellent ones from the days of Mark Lamarr), but does this not smack of that comedy ageism that determines only the young can be funny and older comedians must give up and start presenting wildlife programmes. Really does the Edinburgh festival exist for a reason other than to furnish the never-ending slew of "comedy" panel shows that the BBC constantly churns out with guests any more?

And besides all that, how seriously can you take any top ten list when it includes Sarah Millican. Apart from the "top ten most irritatingly unfunny wastes of spaces to ever be inflicted upon us" list I suppose.
keresaspa: (Max Miller)
Back from Edinburgh on Monday and I'm still feeling a tad on the ropey side. I swear I can't take the drink like I used to. Anyway, a quick run-down of what happened so for anybody who might be remotely interested.

Friday - ungodly early start, a complete lack of provisions for smokers in the airport and flying made me a jittery bag of nerves. Glad to get off the plane and run into [ profile] psychokatuk and Steve at the airport then get the bus into Edinburgh. Bit of pratting (mostly getting lagered up in Frankensteins) about before finally being allowed into the hostel, a grotty sweat box with a shared bathroom. Mucked about a while on Friday seeing a bunch of bands, none of whom I remember, in between nipping out for smokes with [ profile] pinkiemcpinkie and changing venues. Given that it was [ profile] queenmartina's birthday the alcohol was flowing fast and I vaguely recall downing whiskey. Got a bit starving in the end so called it a night and went and got the most bogging fish supper I've ever eaten which was practically lobster thermidor given my hunger at the time.

Saturday - surprisingly little in the way of a hangover, despite being woken up by one of those completely pointless fire alarms that Scotland seems to be infested with, so another load of tramping about in between Frankensteining, where a breakfast of haggis was consumed. Even managed a trip to the National Library of Scotland as [ profile] queenmartina wanted to see an exhibition about something called Miffy. I managed to deface the guestbook with a drawing of said rabbit enjoying a smoke but my attempts to get access to a puppet show, where I hoped to try out my own Max Miller/Vic Reeves hybrid material were thwarted by a queue. Bum! Different venue for the evening, but again I don't recall any of the bands too well. Again, a fair bit of boozing before I regressed into a zombie-like state as the lack of sleep, alcohol and advancing years finally caught up with me.

Sunday - as you were during the day with Frankenstein's the port of call, although it took us a while to get started on drink. Eventually wound up in the same place as Saturday for the last night. Zeitgeist Zero got a definite thumbs up from this man for their Betty Curse-like work. I had been of the mind to enjoy Voices of Masada who followed them but got bored waiting and in the end lost interest pretty quick. Back home to bed after a couple of other ones who were less memorable.

Monday - up early as the room was kicking us out at ten but luckily they had free internet access in the main building so we were able to kill time by reading you lot and checking YouTube for footage of dancing Boris Yeltsin. Quick lunch in Frankensteins (where else?) then a bus ride to the airport followed by a plane home filled with a hen party. Fun! Great to get home as I was ferklempt. Hello to all I didn't mention in this review that I was talking to (that would be [ profile] evil_girlie666, [ profile] ishkhara, [ profile] purpledonna and [ profile] the_fi in alphabetical order) - great to see you all again.

Well, there you have it. That'll do me for now as I have a shedload of work to catch up on. TTFN!
keresaspa: (What do you think of it so far)
One thing I have been sick to the back teeth of recently is all this constant crowing about how Manchester United are going to win the treble and how the neutral fan should supposedly want Chelsea to lose to them because they have a Russian billionaire whilst United are the people's club because their billionaire is American. So suffice to say I was more than a little happy at last night's result. And yes, before anybody says Berlusconi is every bit as reprehensible as Malcolm Glazer but I haven't been force-fed a diet of AC Milan as the best thing since sliced bread for the last lot of months. Good to see the so-called best player in the world Cristiano Ronaldo doing his usual big game performance. The little bitch wasn't even the best player on the pitch as, for my money, Kaka and Gattuso are way in front of him. Good stuff all round!

What else do we have? UVF giving up armed struggle? Ho-hum. No doubt they'll return when it suits them under a different name as the UDA was hell for. Local elections? Don't care as we're not having them and the buggers are likely to screw up a couple of my chapters depending on how the results go.

Not a lot else to report really, except that I'm away to Edinburgh tomorrow and so will disappear from here until Tuesday. I'll see some of you tomorrow but otherwise enjoy the tedium of a long weekend.


May. 30th, 2006 03:25 pm
keresaspa: (Harry Cross)
I-ee! Still feeling a bit ropey from the weekend's festivities in Edinburgh. Time for a quick rundown, I believe. Feel free to skip over if you have no interest in the minutiae of my life.

Up early doors on Friday morning in order that myself and [ profile] queenmartina could get the plane from the newly rebranded George Best airport. Usual delays applied. Got into Edinburgh about one-ish, checked into the old hostel and swung round to get weekend wristbands from [ profile] ishkhara. After a bit of grub and a few bottles of the reasonably nice Victoria Bitter we headed off to the Teviot building to hear a number of bands making noise. Best of the bunch were an odd outfit named Trauma Pet who, despite the awful name and weird hair, had a few decent trad goth numbers up their sleeves. A fire alarm briefly interrupted proceedings. Knocked about with old (in the sense of long-established) cohorts [ profile] pinkiemcpinkie and [ profile] the_fi for a spell, before succumbing to exhaustion and skipping off.

Saturday began, rather bizarrely, with an Orange Order parade passing outside the hostel. It's somewhat odd when a little bit of home invades another setting, although unlike the Belfast versions this one was made up of a handful of die-hards, rather than hundreds. I gave into hangover temptation and converted to reading the Scottish Sun, an odd little paper that says very little in a lot of pages. Saturday night itself was a haze of Tennents lager, which was later supplanted by the girliness of Orange Vodka Kick. Good time all round, although I don't recall too much, apart from constantly having to leave the building to get a feg. The annoyance of this is compounded by the apparently strict enforcement of litter laws, meaning that one has to find a bin for all of one's dog-ends or else floor them in as furtive a manner as possible. The fact that there is a distinct lack of public bins is a pisser and I've heard they'll fine you as quick as a flash for dumping them. No doubt to pay for all those bloody plastic cows littering the place up.

By Sunday I was something of a wreck, being largely unused to consecutive nights on the bevvy, but I still managed to drag myself out and back on the swall to gone 3 in the morning. Up at an ungodly hour on Monday morning to check, we were then dumped into a communal room to wait until a more suitable leaving time. In an oddly surreal moment the South Park film was shown from about half ten onwards, a film that was just beyond weird after zero hours of sleep. The remainder of the waiting around time was taken up watching the woeful Meteor, a painful big budget disaster movie starring local boy Sean Connery. Another that was made even funnier by the lack of sleep. Following that it was off to the airport to get the plane home which was, in a possible first, on time.

In all, good fun all round. It was good to catch up with a lot of you. There are photos of me doing the rounds which I may or not share depending on how ghastly they look. Well, off I go. I'll probably need to do some work and will always need to peruse the Wikipedia articles for deletion in case one of my more esoteric contributions has come under attack. Enjoy the rest of the day!
keresaspa: (Communism)
The current trend for humanising politicians is an annoying one. Gordon Brown is the most recent one, clearly a calculated attempt to turn Mister Unpopularity into a serviceable leader. Some chance. I hate this sort of rubbish. I really couldn't give a toss that Brown likes the Arctic Monkeys and I'm sure no-one else could either, apart from possibly their publicist who is probably weeping as he sees their credibility disappearing. As for George Clooney to play him in a film - in your dreams Gordy! Seeing as Liberace is dead, perhaps Richard Briers could break out the black dye and get away with it or even Diego Maradona if he decided to turn to acting. Now that would be worth seeing! George Clooney, on the other hand, you ain't!

Speaking of NuLab tossers, is there a more unpleasant person around than John Reid? Already established as a 'patronising bastard' Reidy also seems to have got it into his head that he's a hard man. We already have Prescott strutting about like he is cock of the walk (pardon the pun) but at least he has a bit of a dust-up to his credit. Reid, on the other hand, seems to be basing his machismo on the fact that he is Scottish and sports the cropped hair to hide baldness look. His slabbering about the immigration system being crap is a bit rich given that he has been a part of the government for years and never thought to pull somebody aside and tell them his thoughts until now. Passing the buck, as usual. You don't suppose this sudden immigration lark has anything to do with the BNP winning a squad of seats at the council elections do you? Like Tony's cronies would ever be so populist.

Well, that's enough ranting and raving for one day. Library sale tomorrow so I'm not sure I'll be here and, given that I'm going to Edinburgh over the weekend, you may not see me again until next Tuesday. I'm sure you're all slitting your wrists as you read this ;-P Wilco, over and out.
keresaspa: (James Connolly)
Well, I got the voting out of the way, having been prompted towards the importance of making the effort by [ profile] fluffmitten and others. For all the good it'll do of course but there is a slight tingle of enjoyment from actually doing it, particularly as my polling booth is always a mixture of loyalist spides and middle class Unionists. As I said I probably would I ended up voting for the Sticks in the Westminster election and did a 1-2-3 in the council elections of the boys that used to be Militant in first, the Sticks again in second and wee Maskey of the Provos to fill in space. That should keep them happy until the boys decide that the assembly needs yet another election in about six months time when this over-governed dump runs out of ideas. Overall prediction? New Labour to win with a very slightly reduced majority. I don't see the collapses or hung parliaments that some are suggesting.

That'll do for now. I must avast and pick up Buckfast before getting back to that essay (which is proving much more of a nightmare than I anticipated). But before I go here are some photos of your author from Edinburgh as promised in the last entry.

Me at large in St Giles' city )
keresaspa: (Karl Liebknecht)
Back to porridge and all that. As stated previously (and as some of you will know from meeting me over there) I spent the May Day weekend in Edinburgh. A fun time was had by all. There are photos of me in states of extreme drunkenness (Sunday in particular saw steady consumption of the demon drink from 7 PM to 3 AM without cessation) which may eventually be unleashed on the unsuspecting lj public as soon as [ profile] vulcanlolita gets round to uploading (think that's the right term) them. Highlight for my good self was seeing Inkubus Sukkubus on Saturday night (if memory serves). A good opportunity for this old fool to dig his goth dance out of storage and give it another airing (looks a bit like Ian Anderson in his hey-day if he had lost most of his hair and doubled in weight). All round a top bit of craic (although it was a pity that all my teams lost and the Baggies now look certainties for relegation but that's another story). Feel as rough as New Barnsley today because of all the bevvying, tabbing and trekking, mind you. Not as young as I used to be. Returning to essay writing can wait for a while yet, methinks.

And because I wont be here before then I'll end with one of these for [ profile] vulcanlolita which I whipped from an internet translator and is probably gibberish. Thought that counts and all that, our kid.

с днем рождения
keresaspa: (During the war)
Crikey, these early mornings don’t agree with me. I was up at just after nine this morning which, for some, would constitute a lie-in but for a lazy bum like myself is tantamount to torture. Looking like about half six tomorrow so as to be early for the plane to Edinburgh. Whoop-de-doo!

I watched the snooker on BBCi last night (a fine invention and glad to see that Cable-tel or whatever they call themselves now are finally carrying it) and must admit that I wanted O’Sullivan to win as Peter Ebdon’s style of play was beyond boring. I just hope it’s not him who wins the tournament (even though I’ll only see part of the final on Monday).

Wore myself out a bit there trekking up the Lisburn Road looking for a barber shop, only to be confronted with women’s hairdressers galore. I could have bloody kicked myself when I came back down and found one at the start of it, but such is life. With any luck I might actually sleep tonight as a result. Chance would be a fine thing.

Well, that’s it until Tuesday, mes copains. I might see some of you over there, otherwise enjoy the Bank Holiday.
keresaspa: (Mrs Mack)
Feeling none too chipper, my peeps. Sleep was completely shot last night by a strange numbness that overcame my left arm and leg. In the wee hours of the morning things like that get your mind racing to all sorts. I might even be forced to break my own code of ethics by going to the doctor. Whoop-de-doo! Fifteen minutes of being talked down to by a boringly obsessed health-freak who tells you how overweight you are and tries to order you what to do. Should be fun, I don't think. With any luck I'll be able to get an appointment before I scoot off to Edinburgh on Friday. I just hope it's not that painfully skinny bird with the thinning hair again who insisted on massaging my shoulders when I went in with bad feet. There was a bit of sexual harassment I could have done without!

Finally seen the list of candidates for South Belfast at the election. What an unimpressive shower they are. I briefly toyed with voting Alliance but their manifesto is just too bourgeoisie for me. I'm in two minds now over whether to waste my vote on the Sticks or on the joke party. Neither has a chance of winning but then I dont think I've ever voted for a candidate with a chance of winning. Be a case of deciding on the day most likely. God forbid Jimmy Spratt wins it, but come to think of it McDonnell or McGimpsey would be just as duff. Damned if you do and all that.


keresaspa: (Default)

July 2017

1617 1819202122


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 20th, 2017 02:10 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios