It's official – I hate packing

i hate brickDagnabit packing sucks.

I mean, just when you think you have cleared a room, you find more stuff somewhere else that should be in the box you JUST FUCKING SEALED.

AAAAAAAAARGH

Still…I think I am getting there. Just need to figure out how to get 2 apartments full of gear into a Mercedes Sprinter van…seeing as the Eurotunnel won’t allow more than 3.5 tonnes.

Eurotunnel. Are. Bastards

Still, I always enjoyed tetris. Plus, I get to be “White Van Man” for a few days :D

So…honesty is the best policy eh?

Lifetime LadderAhem – So it transpires that I may have occasionally slipped from the moral high ground when it comes to honesty….as was pointed out to me recently.

We were invited to Sam and Micks wedding in sunny Sunderland at an amazing hotel. The only problem was that the hotel was bloody massive. So massive, that when we went to the bar for the evening party…and I left the room card behind…they weren’t going to allow me to purchase alcohol unless I traipsed the 10 minutes (no lie) back to the room.

After much persuading (read: begging), the head barman agreed to run a manual tab, I would have to show the room key each time to prove who I was etc.

No problem says I. It’s not like I could lose the bloody room key, the thing was huge. So began a marathon session. Too many shots were consumed. At one point we were lining them up based on their colour and nothing else. Seems a little strange when I think back to it.. “Hi barman, what have you got that’s purple?”(cue Sid James laughter).room key

I recall dancing, badly. Seriously, I don’t think I would swing if you hung me. There may or may not have been an inappropriate approach to the Bride….groom. That Mick is a damnably attractive man, even to a raving hetero like me ;-)

The night ended late, as these things tend to do, and we staggered back the 25 minute trek to the room.

I would like to lay the blame squarely at the door of the alcohol and lack of sleep at this point. I don’t believe I can be held accountable for my actions as a result.

After staggering down to breakfast the next morning, we headed off to check out and pay the bill ( ?175 + the bar bill). I handed in my key and prepared for the small explosion somewhere on the edge of hearing…the sound of my bank managers head going supernova. Then something amazing happened, the woman behind the counter showed me my bill and asked if that looked OK. The bill showed ?175 only…no bar bill. Genius.

As she hadn’t asked if it was correct, only if it was ok, I took a quick pause before replying that it was indeed OK. I think I even said that it was better than I expected…. bad Dave, bad.

We had previously planned to head back to everyone for a bite to eat after checking out, but this became the worlds quickest goodbye and a sprint to the car before anyone noticed. I did take Mick to one side to make sure that he let me know if they stitched him up with the bill. They never did.

I felt bad about the barman, but as none of my drinks went through the cashdesk, I figured it would be written off under losses, and if the lad had any sense, he would have thrown the notepad in the bin.

Cheapest. Night. Ever

I recommend Sunderland for your wedding, oh…don’t forget to invite me :-D

Lee Evans tried to kill me!!

A very very short time after recovering from Meningitis, we got the opportunity of two tickets to see Lee Evans, live at the Manchester Evening News Arena.   We snapped them up obviously and the day duly arrived.   I think this was around 2 weeks after getting home from the hospital, so I was still recovering, but Lee Evans is Lee Evans and I had to go :-)

Sarah drove us there, we eventually find the place and get settled.   The seats are off to the side a bit, but close enough to the stage for that not to be a problem.

Mr Evans starts his act and the laughter begins.   So hard that my headache (pre-diagnosis) comes back, along with horrendous back pain and stomach pain.   Sarah does a double take and then starts to panic, some of the people around me try to edge away as far as the cheap plastic seating will allow.   I swear at least one person started to panic dial  an ambulance.

Fortunately the interval saves me and I am able to recover.

It’s normally at this point that I refer to the subject matter as bastards…but I can’t do that.   Lee Evans is a small bundle of sweaty comic genius and it’s not his fault I couldn’t stop laughing.

Still….he did almost kill me.   Bastard.