Out on the town

On Thursday night Callum, his mate Westie and myself went to a pub quiz in East London. I had to check several times that I was actually in East London as the pub was showing Hibernian vs. Aberdeen on the television, had a quizmaster from Dumfries, and posters advertising Burns' night. I knew I was definately in London however when a slew of derisory comments about the quality of Scottish football started coming from the adjacent table. I was offended and a little bit upset but avoided a confrontation because deep down I knew that they were probably right, and I didn't have a leg to stand on. Despite this distraction, we started the pub quiz well, scoring six out of ten on the 'science' round. (I can't believe I couldn't remember the chemical symbol for Mercury though. How foolish!). All our good work was undone by the TV & Film round, as the TV questions were all related to soaps and reality TV - which none of us watch. We didn't know who is going to be featuring in 'Dancing On Ice' this weekend but our answer of Terry Nutkins, Pat Sharp, Jimmy Saville and Samantha Mumba certainly looked like an appealing line-up. Anyway, as a result of the comedy answers we lost all focus and finished last, but only because the team below us dropped out. I like to think of it as a 'moral victory'.

Last night it was Callums' birthday so the three of us, a guy called Kevin who I knew back home, and three other friends of Callums' went to Jongleurs nightclub in Camden. The comics were all pretty good, but I refused to feel sorry for the guy in the front row who was made fun of, but couldn't take a joke. For example, it transpired he was a painter and decorator and when asked what his company was called he replied "Shite comedian!".
"You won't get much business with that name!" came the reply, followed by "Funnily enough, my business card says 'Wanky painter and decorator!'". It was a good night out, and after a pint in The Worlds End pub and a drawn-out debate on where to go next, I opted for the safety of the last tube home, and got in around 1.30am.

I'm off work today and tomorrow, but as it's the last week before pay day I'm down to my last few quid and can't do alot, but rest assured I'm saving my pennies for the next pub quiz on Thursday - as it's Burns' night there's two rounds on a Scottish theme. I think Callum and I can safely say we have an upper hand there.

Boobs and more boobs

Yesterday as I was shaving and brushing my teeth, I noticed something rather startling. Either someone had placed two very small mounds of jelly on my chest, or I was developing breasts. Unfortunately, it was the latter. I now have two wobbly bits of flab where my chest used to be. All my life I have been blessed with the fact that I have a very speedy metabolism, and have never really needed to watch my weight or my diet. But now it seems to be catching up with me. I have been drinking more beer than I ever have before, and my diet of late has been shambolic. (This is - I believe - a result of my girlfriend being far away and not telling me off when I have another dinner that not only comes in a box, but is delivered by a heavily padded man on a moped). I decided there and then to do something about it, but I'll touch upon that later on.

I had one of those mornings yesterday where I didn't really know what to do with myself. Rain was lashing against my window and I didn't really feel like going out, so I curled up in bed and waited for the storm to pass. When it did, I headed out and ended up at Waterloo station. Feeling nostalgic (Jen used to live round the corner) I decided to have a stroll around the area. The wind was still pretty strong at this point so my walk was not a long one, but just as I was heading back towards the tube, a rather excitable young woman jumped out in front of me brandishing a clipboard. Now, normally when I see charity workers in the street I bodyswerve them like a car avoiding roadkill, but I had no way out - she was right in front of me. Luckily she was a really nice girl with the sort of boundless enthusiasm a job like hers definately requires, and she went through her spiel of telling me what her charity does and how it helps people. The charity in question was the British Red Cross, and we built up a bit of a rapport as I took a genuine interest in what she had to say. Her name was Lily and after we chatted for a bit about travelling, I agreed to donate some money on a monthly basis, forgetting that in four weeks time I will no longer have an income. Still, she cheered up what was an otherwise depressing afternoon, and as much as I would have liked to chat to her some more about her job and her own forthcoming travels, I didn't want to hold her up and made my merry way back into the center of town.

Still feeling buoyant and not wanting to go home I rang Callum, who later joined me in town and we ended up at the Comedy Store, one of my favourite places for a night out in London. Before that however, we were chatting away and he amused me with news of his latest online purchase:
"I bought a Star Wars 'Phantom Menace' sticker album the other day, fully completed, for seven pounds off Ebay. And I don't even like Star Wars!"
It was funny because it was completely random, but then I remembered the days of my childhood when my entire weekend was taken up by swapping stickers for my Scottish Premier League sticker album. My friends and I went through hell to complete those, spending every penny of spare change on a packet of stickers from John Menzies trying to find the ever elusive arial picture of Kilmarnock's Rugby Park stadium, or a shiny sticker featuring an action shot of Aberdeen's Duncan Shearer. Every lunch time at school we would be comparing our 'doubles', endlessly repeating the mantra of 'got, got, got, need, got, need, got, got...' until we had filled every space in the album, but not before one of us had cheated and phoned the hotline to order stickers they simply couldn't find. Whether they asked the bill payers permission, incidentally, is anyones guess. But thinking of all the blood, sweat and tears that went into those albums, I found it incredibly hard to believe that anyone could let the fruits of all that labour end up on Ebay for a mere seven pounds. It just seems like a very tragic end to what was most likely a rollercoaster of an adventure.

Later on, after a few pints and plenty of laughs courtesy of some very funny people, I found myself on the 149 bus heading home. Two girls were eating pizza and in that instant I knew that the diet I had been planning would have to wait until the morning. I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I have Domino's Pizza on speed-dial, and within twenty minutes of getting in, I was tucking in to a delicious feast. But today I have eaten plenty of fruit and veg, and drunk plenty of water to wash it all down with, and if I continue this and combine it with a few trips to the swimming pool, I should be back in shape in no time, ready to strut my stuff on the beaches of Australia. Actually now that I think about it, it's a diet - not a miracle.