Murder

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

Therefore )
keresaspa: (Cartman)
Hell, even I think I've been away too often recently. The joys of growing up in a warzone, I suppose. And let it be known too that the following load of old rambling nonsense should have been published yesterday but my internet provider decided to give me a day of no service just to remind me who the boss is. Thanks as ever Virgin Media, I would denounce you as vermin but recent events have drawn me closer to that class of creature. Intrigued? Didn't think so but read on anyway, it's good for chilblains.

Read more... )
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.

2015 thing

Jan. 1st, 2016 09:03 pm
keresaspa: (Lester and Eliza)
Two days running? God, it's been years since that sort of rot. Anyway:

1. What did you do in 2015 that you'd never done before?
Left the Atlantic Archipelago (that's British Isles to you imperialists).

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
Never do, never will.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
No.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
Two of the Donegal Celtic mob died - one from cancer, the other took his own life. To be honest though I didn't know either of them that well.

5. What countries did you visit?
France, Scotland and England. I actually visited a personal best of 24 towns and cities this year, with Larne, Newry, Dun Laoghaire, Banbridge, Paris and Dunfermline all new to me.

6. What would you like to have in 2016 that you lacked in 2015?
Cash on demand, same as every year.

7. What dates from 2015 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
I'm very stereotypically male about remembering dates so none.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Dunno.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Dunno.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Usual haemochromatosis plus my vertigo has kicked into overdrive to the point where massive turns are now a daily occurrence and some can last for several hours. I've started having the odd fall as well.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
As noted recently, Mirel Wagner albums.

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?
Oh, you're all great.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?
Here's a shock - Sinn Fein. I'm not sure if I mentioned that at any time last year.

14. Where did most of your money go?
Music as ever. Trips and that too I suppose.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Don't be silly.

16. What song will always remind you of 2015?
"The Road and the Miles to Dundee" by Jim Reid And The Foundry bar Band or "Pasties and Cream" by Brenda Wootton. Neither are available online though so I can't link to them (is it just me or has YouTube removed about half of its music videos in the last week or so?).

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? about the same
b) thinner or fatter? ditto
c) richer or poorer? ditto

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Nothing in particular.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Again, nothing springs to mind.

20. How will you be spending Christmas?
It's already over so....

21. What was your favourite month of 2015?
No idea. August maybe.

22. Did you fall in love in 2015?
Don't be daft.

23. How many one-night stands?
Mind your own business.

24. What was your favourite TV programme?
I've pretty much given up on TV these days. I don't even bother watching the football on Saturday nights sometimes any more.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
I don't think so, although my opinion of Simon Danczuk is really starting to harden.

26. What was the best book you read?
No idea. Been mostly short stories and non-fiction this year. Of the former William Beckford's "Vathek" was probably the best.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Mirel Wagner, as discussed yesterday.

28. What did you want and get?
A new article to get published in When Saturday Comes (in shops 14th January).

29. What did you want and not get?
The new Extreme Noise Terror album, although a copy is winging its way to me from Germany. I'll believe it when I get it and not before as it's fast becoming the new "Things may Come and Things May Go, But the Art School Dance Goes on for Ever" for me.

30. What was your favourite film of this year?
I think I saw a total of two films on TV this year (Midnight Run on ITV Four one night and Despicable Me dubbed into French in Paris) and none in the cinema. Any interest I ever had in films has long since died off.

31. What did you do on your birthday?
Watched Nortel defeat Mossley 4-2 at the Mossley playing fields in the second round of the Border Regiment Cup. It was even less glamorous than it sounds.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
As ever, isn't this essentially the same as question six?

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2015?
I wouldn't. I haven't changed a lick of my image in years but to call it a "fashion concept" would be completely ludicrous. If pushed I'll go with "man who looks a lot older than he is dressing to his wrongly assumed age".

34. What kept you sane?
Assuming I am sane, then the match.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Demi Lovato. I may have the makings of a dirty old man. But come on, eh?!

36. What political issue stirred you the most?
The quiet death of Irish republicanism and its rebirth as Tory collaborationism, all with the tacit approval of the victims of this development.

37. Who did you miss?
Cigs as ever.

38. Who was the best new person you met?
Can't think of anyone. I've not really met anyone new this year.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2015.
No.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
"Poor old horse, he must die".

Paris

Aug. 29th, 2015 11:07 pm
keresaspa: (Seagull)
Hello you *waves*. Yeah, just back from Paris and that, which, of course, means I have to go on at length about the last week. Apologies in advance if this gets a bit incoherent but you should all be used to that by now.

Lundi )

Mardi )

Mercredi )

Jeudi )

Vendredi )
keresaspa: (Edwige Fenech)
Well, it turns out I'll be going to France in August after more of that unorthodox holiday money turned up. Should be a grin. Staying in Montmartre too, your one-stop shop for stairs and prostitutes. Nothing much to add except you know, yay and that.

Anyway enjoy this whilst I think of something more substantial to write about:

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?
keresaspa: (Piggy Banks)
Well, that's me for a while as I'm off to London at a ludicrous time tomorrow morning. I am looking at the weather forecast with a sense of sickness and foreboding as it appears temperatures on Saturday will likely hit around thirty degrees. Far too much for a very sweaty, very lardy man such as myself (though, fifteen is far too much for me frankly) and as we all know heat is bad, heat in a city is worse but heat in a city on a Saturday is worst of all. If you see a large pool of goo bobbing down the Thames in a few days time you'll know it's just me and that I've melted.

Just a quick one as I must go and prepare for the horrendous horrors that await me i.e. early morning car travel, flight and underground trains. Have fun, won't you.
keresaspa: (Piggy Banks)
In a diversion from the norm I found myself heading eastwards this weekend for a spell in Yorkshire. As those of you who also subscribe to the Winter Palace will already be aware [livejournal.com profile] queenmartina has bade farewell to the delights of Glencairn, Ligoniel, Turf Lodge and the Village and swapped it for the delights of Otley, Gildersome, Potternewton and Morley by swapping Belfast for Leeds. With this in mind yours truly was roped in to add rippling muscle/sagging flab (delete as applicable) to proceedings by accompanying her over for the Big MoveTM.

Friday started with a minimum of fuss. A taxi ride to the Middle of Sodding Nowhere Airport (Belfast International to you, Sunny Jim) saw the driver take a tortuous route through the mountains beyond the Glen Road (where GAA grounds abound for some reason) although ultimately it proved a fairly sensible option, avoiding as it did the worst of the traffic. The flight itself was equally painless, being virtually empty, leaving on time and arriving early. Leaving Leeds Bradford Airport, another taxi hauled us to leafy Headingly, the location of the new homestead, where [livejournal.com profile] burkesworks and a load of boxes awaited. A session of my speciality - donkey work - followed, trailing the boxes upstairs and decanting the contents from therein. Too knackered for owt after that so a jaunt out locally for a bite of pizza was all that could be done that night. Were I only a fan of either cricket or rugby league I would have been laughing as the flat overlooks the Carnegie Stadium but neither the sound of leather willow nor portly northern gentlemen twisting each other's ears appeals.

Loathe as I was to miss my weekly dose of live football [livejournal.com profile] burkesworks and myself took our leave on Saturday afternoon to go and watch the famous Bradford Park Avenue (their words, not mine) taking on the might of Solihull Moors in the Conference North. It was a new experience for yours truly, as I had never experienced the English game at this level before, but I found the Horsfall Stadium to be a decent ground that would not have looked out of place in our own Irish League. The action too was of a decidedly Irish League standard, with Avenue (or "Aven-yooooh" as the elderly chap close behind us was wont to howl at irregular intervals) very much in ascendancy for the vast majority of the match, particularly down the flanks. Unfortunately for BPA, who seemed unsure whether their club colours were green and white or red, yellow and black, they were well short of quality upfront and what should have been a thumping win ended up only a 1-0 triumph. Still, good larf and a worthy substitute for my usual fayre, whilst the mini-museum in their clubhouse was fascinating to the point where I reckon I could do a decent job on Mastermind answering questions on Len Shackleton following my visit.

I spent the Sunday in the city centre, although the shorter opening hours meant that I didn't get to see everything as I would have liked. A tip of the hat to the St John's Centre, a small shopping centre which contains two music shops and sundry discount retailers, a combination that I can only presume was designed specifically in anticipation of my visit, given my well documented love of buying CDs and discount tat. Smashing. I've been informed there is a market I should visit and a doll's shop that is likely to weird me out and be darling in equal measures but they will have to wait for another time as they were closed. Boo.

Monday was when I took my leave. After a scout round the local hokeys to see what could be seen we caught the bus out to a slummy area that resembled our own Harryville, from where I bade goodbye to [livejournal.com profile] queenmartina and [livejournal.com profile] burkesworks to get on my way back to the airport. With the weather having taken a sudden and unexpected turn to the apocalyptic the journey home was inevitably more of an ordeal with the plane delayed (only for a while admittedly), my stomach taking a boo-boo near the end of the flight and a long wait in the lashing rain for the bus back to Belfast from Middle of Sodding Nowhere Airport. Still, I made it in the end as this post demonstrates.

All in all a decent break from the norm. I'm feeling a might unwell today, due to a lack of sleep, the general pains from the donkey work and kipping on a settee, not to mention the fact that the snow made a brief return last night, chilling me to the bone but doing my bit and seeing new places was a fine way to spend my time.
keresaspa: (Lester and Eliza)
It's all gravy now of course. Well, there was a kerfuffle where the end of dinner was interrupted by a delivery of shopping arriving at the front door at precisely the same moment as the phone decided to ring but for now I am happily ensconced with my feet up, enjoying the latest effort from Amy Macdonald (a marked improvement on the previous one, so well done young lady). That will go tomorrow obviously when the blue funk descends. The day before one goes away is always right pain in the arse after all. The very act of packing is an insufferable chore, trying to balance bringing what you will need against taking too much and fighting in vain to keep ironed items from wrinkling too much. Then there's the fuss of changing one currency for another (they might keep telling us that we're British but try using some of the local money in England and see how far you get), not to mention my old fear of flying kicking in again. I haven't flown since October and it was during a balmy Indian summer that I did so, thus the prospect of flying through the rain that now dominates every day is not exactly making me feel chipper. On top of that I really do find the tube from Heathrow to King's Cross deeply unendurable. The thought of an underground train, as appealing as Lord Kitchener made it sound, is something of an anathema to a claustrophobic like myself but to be on it for the guts of an hour, having just endured being in a floating sardine tin, is all quite upsetting really.

Once I'm finally in London and off the tube it will all be fine (barring six days of diluvian rain of the sort that has infested Belfast for several months now) but it really does make you wonder when the hell they're finally going to get round to those teleporters they promised us. Right now the head of a housefly and being shot by the Brobdingnagian Geena Davis seems decidedly preferable to being crushed for over an hour a blooming aeroplane. Holidays, don't you just love 'em?!
keresaspa: (Terry-Thomas)
Hello again. I arrived back from London yesterday and now the inevitable load of waffle about what I dided must follow. So sit back and enjoy or run along and play, whichever you prefer.

Cut for length )
keresaspa: (Karl Marx laughing)
Well my annual London pilgrimage has come to an end and I'm still feeling a tad worn-out. However between seeing one of my favourite bands, visiting the resting place of my leader, catching up with some good friends and adding to the collections it was well worth the effort. Permit me to elaborate.

The third way )
keresaspa: (Default)
Well, these coming two weeks will be quite busy for yours truly. A midweek jaunt to Dublin is scheduled for next week whilst the following week I shall be doing my annual London spell, assuming that the angry dwarves that live under the mountains of Iceland have stopped their smelting by then. Originally intended to be a basic five night stay (which obviously it still will be) serendipity has conspired to ensure that on the first night I should be busy seeing Shonen Knife live in concert. Jolly good or what! Ordinarily, of course, this would have happened later in the year but a World Cup ensures plans have to be altered, as well as some nuisance medical stuff in July.

Still enough about me. I notice that today is the second National Famine Commemoration Day on this island. I'm not going to get bogged down in angry talk about genocide but rather just wanted to mention this in passing as the TV seems to have all but ignored it. Besides, it is to the constant shame of this revolting, unequal world that this sort of thing still goes on to this day even though Britain alone still manages to chuck away nearly 7 million tonnes of food per year.

Meanwhile, yesterday was FA Cup final day and, for those who have been on a weekend trip to Mars, Chelsea won inevitably. Overall it wasn't too bad a spectacle for a 1-0, even if it will be remembered most of all for the general cackiness of the penalty takers as anything else. Obviously a Portsmouth win would have been preferable but a double for Chelsea just might knock the smiles off a few faces at Old Trafford so fair enough. Oh, and of course well done to Oxford on an overdue return to the Football League. Amazing to think it is only 21 years since Chelsea and Oxford met in the old Second Division, but no matter as I told you your lot would do it [livejournal.com profile] fluffmitten.
keresaspa: (Shakuni (Gufi Paintal))
So, London then. Well, late morning start on Sunday which was good and sorting out the flight was very easy which was even better. Tube ride from Heathrow to King's Cross was surprisingly painless, although it was very hot and this soon became the defining characteristic of the week as I do not believe that I stopped sweating even once. Indeed I feel that I accomplished something in not taking a heart attack! Found the hotel, the Crestfield, easily enough and was able to get my room as soon as the all-Spanish staff worked out how to understand my accent. Oddly enough the hotel had a Scottish Terrier that appeared to have severe breathing difficulties, perhaps brought on by being constantly kicked by oblivious Germans as its dark fur disappeared into the night.

Monday brought the trip to the British Library to get my pass and have a look at the things I ordered. My plan to cut a fine dash in suit and tie went to the wall as it was much too hot for a jacket or tie but otherwise a reasonable start as, although there was quite a bit of queuing involved, it was easy enough to get the pass. Problems came when I went to the reading room and found that I could not bring in pens so a mad dash back to King's Cross tube station was needed to pick up a set of pencils from the WH Smiths therein. Got through quite a bit of work that day, although spending the day reading nought but BNP propaganda was a harrowing experience to say the least and, whatever falafel is, I must remember never to eat the bloody thing again as it tastes like armpits.

Tuesday was more British Library. By this point BNP propaganda was driving me to madness so I thought "sod it, let's go balls out and finish this lot today". So I wired through the remaining copies of Identity magazine and then had a bit of a job seeing a microfilm that was needed. With any luck I won't need to bother with those bloody things again. Anyway that was the Library done and dusted after two days, rather than the five I had allowed myself, which was odd. A quick stop at Burger King left me feeling relieved and allowed me the chance to read those silly papers that they hand out for free. Before going I had never heard of either Agyness Deyn or Kimberley Stewart but I suspect that without them London Lite and The London Paper would collapse into the sea for both were on every bloody page seemingly. I soon became equally bored hearing about David Miliband, a man who I would trust about as far as I could throw, not least because he and his brother bear more than a passing resemblance to the Maxwell brothers.

As such, come Wednesday I was at a bit of a loose end as I had seriously overestimated the time I would need to do the work in question. Still, rather than waste the time I decided to take a tube into Covent Garden which [livejournal.com profile] queenmartina had told me was a good shopping area. Personally, I was rather unimpressed by the load of old tat on offer, although I did wander into Charing Cross Road and found myself surrounded by some good bookshops where a fair bit of money was frittered away. Having left the hotel without a map I soon became hopelessly lost, wandering into Chinatown (not a lot going on, although nice arches) and seemingly passing the Ivy and Stringfellows about a thousand times. Liquor was consumed at the Nag's Head and the Crown before finally getting my bearings and stopping into some silly perfumey shop for [livejournal.com profile] queenmartina where a helpful Goth sort was able to find what she wanted. By the time I got the tube home I was done out.

Thursday saw a trip to Oxford Street, which started somewhat difficultly as I headed up the road to Euston station in order to access Tottenham Court Road (I'm sure you could go straight from King's Cross but I could not see how and did not want to take any chances). Oxford Street itself was a fussy old place that was somewhat dominated by rain but the HMV was really rather good and turned up some interesting rarities. By and by I wound back up in Covent Garden where the Marquess of Anglesey, the Nag's Head and the White Lion provided suitable libations to get yours truly somewhat merry. Nice to just sit around and waste from time to time, although the preponderance of silly Pete Doherty wannabes wearing them hats was a slight irritant. Equally mystifying was the extreme difficulty in getting holding of an ordinary packet of Berkeley. I did not realise that these were so scarce in England (nor indeed that Lucky Strike were so common) but it forced me to smoke Benson & Hedges which, whilst a satisfactory substitute, lack the extra length of a nice Berkeley. Tube back to King's Cross was a no-no for some reason so I went buck mad and got a taxi before partaking of the most welcome Kentucky Fried Chicken I have had in my life.

I was unsure what to do for Friday, although ultimately I settled on the mysteries of the Northern Line to go into Camden (which proved somewhat fussy at first as I had been pretty much sticking to the Central Line). I'm not altogether enamoured of Camden as I find it a bit too much of that odd mixture of posy and slum but it's one of the few areas I know so I thought "why not". Still a bit of dump to my eyes, although I did manage to get some decent music there and was able to booze it up a bit in the Dev and the World's End. I did consider hanging around a while but sense took over as I wanted my wits about me for the trip home the next day so I headed back early and took to bed.

Kicked out of the hotel at 11 on Saturday which was not ideal for a half three flight but needs must and so I tubed it back to Heathrow and arsed about a while. The flight itself took off over half an hour late and was marred by a constantly screaming child with an overenthusiastic father and a mother who looked liked the whole married with children thing had been a mistake but otherwise was relatively OK and I only had one brief "oh shite" moment over a bit of turbulence which is quite good considering I'm afraid of flying. Glad to be home, mind and finally get my own bed.

Well, that's that then. Apologies for boring you all with the details but it gives me the perfect excuse to avoid work as my head is not really back in the game yet.
keresaspa: (Default)
Well so far most of my London based friends are OK. Hopefully the rest of you will be on soon. Unsurprisingly my own proposed trip to London tomorrow is off. Having spent the first 19 years of my life dealing with bombs I'm not about to pay money to walk into something that is beginning to sound like about six months of the Troubles crammed into one day. Boring as the twelfth will be I don't wish to take my life into my hands just to avoid a couple of dull days at home. All for now. Those of you in London, stay safe, be vigilant but don't get too paranoid. Bombs can generally be avoided if you don't hang about and do what you are told. Good luck all.
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 [livejournal.com 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 [livejournal.com 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: (Arthur Askey)
Got back from London yesterday and a long weekend of debauchery has left me with the fear and a slight deafness in one ear. Nevertheless a good time was had by all. You cant beat the odd weekend here and there where there is nowt but alcohol from beginning to end. At the minute my memories are all very fuzzy but I'll recall more when [livejournal.com profile] vulcanlolita sticks up the photos. Until such time I must cut short as these essays still have to be written.
keresaspa: (Stanley Unwin)
Got back from Bradford yesterday and I now have the knees of an eighty year old, a throbbing left arm from lugging a heavy suitcase and the craggiest throat I've had in years from puffing on the Dickie Davises* for most of the weekend. Apart from that I musn't grumble.

As you can imagine the weekend was a sea of liquor that has dulled my memory and senses in general. Some sort of German (I think) spirit that was consumed in shots and tasted like cough medicine played a role in that as did my propensity to down Southern Comforts. After traveling over on the Friday [livejournal.com profile] vulcanlolita and myself met up with [livejournal.com profile] burkesworks in a bar and town and had a few jars and a bit of craic. Twas a pleasure to finally meet you, our kid. I was comfortable and would have gladly stayed for a skinful were it now for the night-times doings. The result was that Friday night saw me totally rat-arsed and it became a theme over the next two nights as well. Plus running into fellow Celtic booze-hounds like [livejournal.com profile] industrialgod just encouraged me to fill up even more. Not that I needed much encouragement, mind you. I'll wait for [livejournal.com profile] vulcanlolita's run down as I'm now having trouble remembering.

All for the time being. I really need to chase up some work stuff.

*Benson & Hedges ciggies
keresaspa: (Piggy Banks!)
So I was over in London at the weekend as a sort of a pre-birthday bash for [livejournal.com profile] vulcanlolita. I stayed mostly in Camden with the occasional jaunt out to Islington for nights out, so I didnt manage to do anything touristy. Suffice to say the weekend was totally dominated by boozing, with most of the days spent in a gaffe called the Devonshire Arms and the nights spent in three different places (the Slimelight was one, can't remember what the other two were called), although I also managed a pint in what is apparently the roughest pub in Camden, one where there was a recent murder. Oo-er, missus! My liver is in a state and my fingers are dark brown. On the Saturday as we were shopping in Somerfield some old girl tried to do a bit of shoplifting and when she was caught she went into a screaming rant about being disabled, assaulted and demanding the police. Spacer. By the time we left she had gotten on to spitting in a cop's face. Silly old brass. We spent a lot of time with [livejournal.com profile] psychokatuk and her husband Steve, who were all round good eggs who helped ensure we didn't get lost in the rabble. Cheers, folks! All in all good craic. As is usual after I've been away I am in agony from lying in strange beds and lugging heavy suitcases, plus my flu is back a bit. Getting old. [livejournal.com profile] vulcanlolita will no doubt have a much more comprehensive retelling available by and by and you will even get to see more pictures of this stud (aren't you privileged). For me this post is over.

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