Thursday, July 21, 2005

Living the the Life of Reilly

Sorry I haven't been posting much, but life round these parts has er, well gone a bit haywire.

First off I've been to an amazing festival in the Norfolk countryside. I can't really tell you the name of it, because of the poshness and because I'm not really allowed to tell you anyway. Suffice to say, It's in a coubtry mansion, there is only 1,000 people invitied, and it's one of the best parties I've ever been to. We're talking amazing landscaped countryside, tipis, yurts, huge bonfires, old spitfires flying low overhead, lots of yummy food, swimming pool, yoga classes, random sound and light and glass sculptures, the odd celeb swanning about. The funniest was Sting, who when a friend walked by him muttered "I'll give him a message in a bottle." I almost pissed my pants. The music wasn't that great, but it didn't matter. It was a people party. I met some of the most soundest, friendliest bunch of folk ever, and made a whole new bunch of pals. I hated leaving, but on Monday I decided head back to Terrorism Town.

A couple of days, back into work, They decided to drop a bombshell on me. They can't provide enough new business for me to get my teeth stuck into, so they decided to pay me off. Bummer you think? Nope. It's a hefty payout. So much that for the next few months, I'm not even going to bother to look for work, until at least September. It's so ironic. I arrived in England a year to the day ago with literally a pound in my pocket. Exactly a year later I've got a huge wedge to play with in the middle of summer and no need to work for awhile. What a summer I'm going to have. Festivals, a spot of travelling, I might go to Europe with a mate soon, and I'll be going up to Scotland to see the whanau. It's going to be fun. I'll try to post, but I'm pretty much going to be gallavanting around quite a bit, and not be stuck that much in front of a computer.

You could say, I'm living the Life of Reilly.

P.S. Happy Birthday Mikey Ray, you old boot.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

The weirdest day.

Last Thursday, at the last minute I decided to ride my bike to work. I was so close to getting the tube. Like made my mind up walking out the door to ride. It wasn't a sunny morning, and even spitting a little, but I biked none the less. I'm glad I did. When I get the tube, I get into Kings Cross at roughly 9.50am. I don't even want to think what might of happened. It's far too horrible to contemplate.

When I got to work, I heard of a power surge had caused and explosion at Aldgate. Pretty soon, I heard of a few more power surges. This rung alarm bells in my head. Next thing I'm hearing is a bus being ripped apart. Then my phone gets no reception, and all I can hear outside is sirens. It's looking like a terrorist attack.

I work pretty much smack bang in the middle of it all in Farringdon, right next to the unmarked Reuters building, which is Fort Knox by the way. The rest of the day, no work got done, no texts could get sent, and I sat dumbfounded watching the horror unfold on a bbc news website. I went to the pub with most of my work, and everyone was cracking jokes and getting a bit boozed. I couldn't even finish a cider. I went back to work and a few text messages from family and friends started to trickle through.

Most of our building had gone home, and by 4.30 the decision was made to shut up shop and for everyone to make their way home. I felt sorry for a few people that lived on the fringes, knowing that they had a long trek home. I jumped on my bike and started heading south home. The scenes to greet my ride home were straight out of the zombie flick 28 Days Later. The street were deserted of transport, and the pavements packed with bewildered faces, trying to figure the best route home to safety. Very bizarre.

While riding, I got thinking this must be what it's like every day in Iraq or in Gaza. Except it's a combination of extremists and American & British forces blowing fuck out of each other. With innocent people getting killed in the process. I flew by a few pubs, which were packed. This irked me even more. Is it the great british courage. Get pissed in the face of terrorism?

Friday, July 01, 2005

Getting lost & fried chicken.

I finally took the plunge and bought a push bike. This one to be exact. It's a lot of fun, and I'm enjoying being an urban road warrior instead of a tube bitch. It takes me usually 45 minutes to get to work, underground, but on the bike it takes 20 minutes. That is, when I don't get lost.

Which has been 3 times this week. It's all because of the most confusing, scariest roundabout in London. I'm coming from Kennington Park Road and I hit Elephant & Castle, (which is a hole by the way) and that's were it all goes a bit pear shaped. I'm not sure if its the buses, the merging traffic, fast motorbikes, or the sheer amount of lanes and roads off it that totally fucks me every time.

The first day I ended up heading to Waterloo Station, spotted the London Eye and then realised that I was totally going in the wrong way. I quickly cut across and found Southwark Station, which is my little marker, to know I'm on the right way to my way across the river, which is Blackfriars Bridge, on the way to my work in Clerkenwell.

The second day I went down Southwark Bridge Road, thinking I'd find my little marker, but alas I couldn't. So I cut across and found my marker. Found Blackfriars Bridge, and home free again.

Today I went down King William St, somehow mistook Borough Station for Southwark, cut across, thinking I was taking the same road as yesterday and ended up going across the Southwark Bridge. Fuck me, if that didn't totally screw me up. I turned and the next thing, I'm on my way to London Bridge. Wrong. Turned back, and then somehow ended at St Paul's. I knew I was kind of going in a semi right direction. Then I ended up at St. Barts hospital. I then spied the Barbican Towers. (Thank fuck for landmarks!), and weaved my way towards them. I saw the meat markets, and knew my way to work from there.

The most ironic thing, is that all these diversions, and I still wasn't late. It's great, I'm feeling myself getting healthy and I've got a spring in my step, and not looking like a old sweaty dog, huffing and about to keel over. Which, believe me is not the sexiest look out there.

However there is a couple of little thorns in my side to becoming healthy. Namely booze and fried chicken drumsticks. They seem to go hand in hand. One drink at the boozer sometimes, well usually all times turns into maybe 5, depending on the night. Monday to Wednesday, 5 is usually tops. The other days are well... let's not go there today. God help me, if my local started to sell Magners Cider. I'd just check myself into rehab on the spot.

Anyway between my local and my road is the evil Pizza Ring. To be fair, the thin crust pizza isn't too bad, but the trans fatty temptations that lurk behind the counter. The mountain of golden crumbed, fried white meat wrapped around a carcass. You know you love it. Dirty chicken.

Lately, I can't seem to pass it up. It's terrible. The most utterly amazing fact of this strange compulsion, is that I don't even eat chicken! I pretty much just eat seafood, and avoid most meat. I might eat some types of meat again one day, but I'll never eat pork. Even though pork is mighty tasty, pigs don't sweat, and have massive tumors cut out of them because of this. Pig fat also, is so close to human fat, it binds straight away to your fat, and never comes out. Oh and cannibals call human meat, long pig. Ewwwwww. Whoops I'm off on one again. Eating deep fried drumsticks at midnight, pretty much undos all the hard work I'm trying to do by riding my bike to work. It's retarded. It's like a cheap smack addiction. I have to stop it! I want the lo-fat healthy version of Reilly, that I knew so well in my 20's, and all side orders of lassies that seemed to came along with that. Which is basically the whole underlying reason behind this mad health kick. So from now on, I'm going to try and curb my booze (a little) during the week, and run like the clappers home, and not get lassoed by the Pizza RIng at the top of my road.

Pray for me people, I need all the help I can get.