Don't You Know That I'll Be Around To Guide You

I am thinking of flying to Sarajevo for a few days so I emailed the traveller who was there a couple of years back as I was looking for tips on where to stay, what to see etc. In his response he summed up all he thought I needed to know
1) Don't throw frisbees around the train terminal
2) Don't wash in the fountain in the town square
3) The newspaper stands sell hardcore jazz mags
This is why I don't buy rough guides, they never tell you what you really need to know

Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got something to say
But nothin comes out when they move they lips
Just a bunch of gibberish
And m***** f****** act like they forgot about Dre

I'll Do Graffiti If You Sing To Me In French

I have been thinking of all the great dates I have had over the years. There have been a few that really stand out and one in particular.

It was a few years ago, she was the most beautiful women I have ever seen. Long blond hair, blue eyes and legs up to her neck. From what I remember she was from the south of France and had a wonderful accent. She was working as a model when I met her and we had a great time, I was sure after a few hours that she was the one for me. Not really sure if it counts as a date though. We had something to eat, saw a film together but then the plane landed and I never saw her again.

There's Always Something Happening

The Editor doesn't live in Sheffield, he lives in Doncaster which is a lot nicer than I expected but a lot further away when you overshoot the junction and end up in Chesterfield (I got the the crooked spire and turned back). On Saturday we took a trip to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park and tried to convince ourselves that we were cultured as we broke out the picnic that consisted of Fosters and Nik Naks. After a while the editor said the sculptures started to resemble our picnic. I dont think these look like a can of Fosters.


The YSP (as those in the know call it) is well worth a visit.

Sheffield Headlines?

Off to Sheffield for the weekend to see the Editors new house. We do this a lot. I bought a new watch so he bought a new watch, he bought red trainers so I bought a pair of red converse, I bought my apartment so he buys a townhouse. It is an expensive game we play

I spoke to him last night and he made me promise to explain Facebook to him.
"I want to be down with the kids, I understand blogs, but I just got myself on friends reunited and now people are telling me to use Facebook" was his plea for help.

If you are wondering what the Editor looks like then here you go. It is a close match I assure you. Who do I love more? Alan Johnson from Peep Show or the Editor? Mmm...

Not sure why but here are my top five crisps
1) M and S sea salt and black pepper
2) Wotsits
3) Golden Wonder cheese and onion
4) Texas BBQ Pringles (once you pop)
5) Lime Infused Walkers Sensations

Sir Bobby Gandolf

Liverpool Man: He is from my neck of the woods, Gandolf came from Burnley
Kate Moss (not really, obviously): He is dead you know
LM: Who, Sir Ian Mckellen?
KM: Yeah! The guy who played Bob Geldolf
LM: What? You mean 'Gandolf' from from Lord Of The Rings
KM: No from Harry Potter
LM: I don't think Ian Mckellen was in Harry Potter
Rugby Correspondent: She means Richard Harris
LM: Do you mean Dumbledore?
KM: Yeah, its really sad, he died.

Sometimes I make up stories for this blog (really, believe it, its called creative licence) but this one is factual.

Education is our passport to the future,
For tommorrow belongs to those who prepare for it today

One Night Of Magic Rush

Saturday 20:00 - 03:00 Manchester
Lyman's stag do went very well from what I hear. I recommended they swing by Obsessions, a strip club, which employed a lady call Bailey. I use the term 'lady' loosely, not because she comes from Thailand, but because of the way she conducts herself. A few weeks ago she was throwing herself at me at Deansgate Locks in blatant breach of the rules (my rules) which I object to but she was hot and she told me to look her up if I was ever in the mood to go to a strip club. I understand that is where Lyman ended up.

Saturday 20:00 - 03:00 Burnley
The wedding ceremony went very well from what I hear. I recommend the Inn On The Wharf pub which was the venue for the evening which employs very efficient staff. I use the term efficient, not in respect of the service to customers, but because they look after the business by giving us ridiculously short measures. I like big pints. For a few hours after the bride and groom left we were still throwing ourselves (myself) around the dance floor which was plenty of fun but The Playwright wanted more. I understand that The Playwright ended up in a place called 'Lava and Ignite'.

I don't go to strip clubs and I don't go to clubs in Burnley (not because of the the voting patterns in the local elections). The reason for not going to either is fear

For each a road
For everyman a religion
Face everybody and rule
For everything and rumble
Forget everything and remember
For everything a reason

You've got the fear

I'm King Of The World

I always hoped to be king of something one day, perhaps of Liverpool (or the world), but I struggle keeping up with my schedule at the moment. If I was king I think it would get a bit too much. As an example, yesterday I landscaped part of my parents garden, varnished a bench, went to Lyman's stag do in Manchester, went to a wedding in Burnley and did a bit of shopping in between with Alfie. It was a good night. Unfortunately I danced like Carlton Banks again.

I do enjoy a good wedding but it often leads to conversations about relationships which I can find awkward. We were talking about whether long distance relationships can work and I commented that I have been involved in one for a while and it is tough going... but she is getting out on probation in a couple of weeks so things should get better. It didn't even get a smile.

Anyway, Lyman promised me a much touted trip to a place called Bradley's in central London while Alfie is promising a birthday party down there. No doubt both will be arranged for the same day. When will it end? I need a diary secretary.

If You Aint Got No Money Take Your Broke Ass Home

In an attempt to start the Liverpool wine and food appreciation society PQ and I had the inaugural meeting in The Sir Thomas Hotel, purveyors of the finest bar food this side of the Mersey. This meeting had a slightly different feel to it to the meetings of the Preston group, perhaps it had something to do with me talking about being the keeper of the hands of mystery. I should not talk about my mysterious hands to women who I have not known for a long time. It freaks them out. Understandable really.

PQ thinks my ego needs to be brought into check and I asked for some constructive criticism. Instead I was given stinging criticism which included the following "top 5" (and rebuttals)
1) Always being late. ( I was in the bar at the right time, PQ thought we were meeting outside)
2) Poor table manners (it was crusty bread, nuff said)
3) I wear too many cheap looking shirts (I was wearing Savile Row) (Richard James)
4) My hands of mystery look like jazz hands (is that a criticism?)
5) Being cheap (I had ordered two drinks but I was thirsty so I drunk them both)

She did manage to deliver these in under a minute which makes me think she had given this a bit of thought.

The streets outside your window overflooded
People staring, they know you've been broken
Repeatedly reminded by the looks on their faces
Ignore them tonight and you'll be alright
We'll cast some light and you'll be alright

But It Is A School Night

Everyone came out on Tuesday night for the monthly food and wine appreciation society. Represented at the table were Beth, Leanne, Tim (the BLT), The Playwright, The Stage Manager and The Director (and two drunks)

I am a little jealous of the time they all get to spend together especially as they are all up in Preston and I am in Liverpool. The result of this is I am a little out of place with the conversation. Sometimes I say things that don't quite fit in or sit well with the group.
The question was asked "how did you get ex lovers back?"
The Playwright said he sent roses
The Stage Manager sent chocolates
Tim wrote a poem
I said I pushed her out of a first floor window.

Don't act like it came as a surprise,
Don't believe me even look into these eyes
This cant go on so I should just,
Regret it, regret it, regret it,
And even though I left you I'll,
Forget it, forget it, forget it

I Want To Ride My Bicycle

While in London watching the Tour de France I was inspired to started cycling more often. I have taken on the bicycling lifestyle fully, I have the bicycle, the books, the lycra, the controlled drugs. Everything I need to enter major competitions.

More Than Just A Green Theme Park

It took us 13 hours to get to St Agnes on Friday so it was not a good idea going to the Eden Project in the afternoon when we were expecting to travel back. On arrival we took more boy band pictures around (and on) my car and we followed the winding paths to the entrance. It is a great sight when you leave the gift shop/ticket office/cafe. It looks like this



A real feat of engineering and a fusion of education with botanical excellence that cannot be found elsewhere on the planet. But once you get over the big green house it is, as a young girl behind me put it, "just a load of plants".

We took in the legendary chippy in Burham-on-Sea (by the petrol station) which I somehow missed off my top five. At this point I was informed that HP will spun the hell out of his car in the camp site in an attempt to spray the Knock Knock lady's tent will mud. Sometimes I envy him.

The Ultimate Destination

The signs at the entrance to Lands End call it the ultimate destination. Perhaps that is why the charge to you get into the place and to have a picture with "the sign" (pictured below by Alfie). They also do a lot of the "first and last" this that and the other. The was the first and last post box(not operational), Gift shop (very tacky) and cafe (full of yanks). There was a moment of excitement when I thought I spotted a whale. But it turned out to be a small boat in the distance.

Nookie in Newquay

Took me ages to come up with that and I am very proud of myself.

We started the day in the Lost Gardens Of Heligan which took us ages to find and to keeps us from getting lost in the 200 acre grounds we were given a map and a compass. It was like orienteering all over again. The best bit was seeing the baby owls which had eaten their siblings earlier in the year because they thought they looked tasty. Twisted.

I taught Alfie how to make owl noises by blowing into your hands and he is a quick learner. Within 90 minutes we had gone from muffled puff to playing "No Limits" by 2 Unlimited.

Then it was on to Walkabout in Newquay (not Newport as I originally thought) and the legendary Berties which was full of drunk women. I could have repeated yesterday's headline with a different meaning if you catch my drift. I had my bottom pinched twice and I was the victim of drunken cupping. It was a first. I felt a little violated.

I met a lady from Staines called Hannah who had a great pair of eyes on her. Entrancing. She was feeling lonely as her friend was off cupping men left right and centre. We spoke for a while and then I mentioned the owl calls and it went down hill from there. I think I need a new angle.

God knows what is hiding in that weak and drunken heart

I guess you kissed the girls and made them cry

Those hard faced Queens of misadventure

God knows what is hiding in those weak and sunken eyes

A fiery throng of muted angels

Giving love and getting nothing back

She Gave Me Crabs

I was in Looe throwing my line about on the shoreline close to the the docks. I was trying to catch crabs with my manky piece of bait and a hook with very little success but I had so much fun doing it. I was befriended by a young scottish lady who was the worst teacher ever. She shouted and swore which made me nervous. I didn't like her.
I think she felt sorry for me at the end of the day as I had not caught anything so she gave me her bucket which was full of crabs. Some of em were pretty big.

We pitched our tent last night in the rain and tucked into the 3p french baguette that Moonlight Graham bought from the Asda in Bodmin. It had only turned midnight when a stroppy in the next tent tapped on the side of the tent
"Knock Knock" is what she said
"Hello???" Was the response coupled with fits of the giggles at the whole onomatopoeic intro
"Can you keep it down, I dont know if you realise how much sound travels, I have been trying to sleep four an hour now"
Now I know that we probably should have just gone to sleep and let it go but it was our first night and we were having a conversation in our tent. What is wrong with that?
I think she was mean and so did Moonlight. So we took a couple of her tent pegs half way out. I hope the wind picks up int he next couple of nights.

Slide Over Here!

The boys took a trip to Cornwall but that is another story for another day. The night before I went to see this man with Beth, Tim and Leanne.

I know, you are all thinking "how did he score Dean Friedman tickets??" It is all about knowing people. I cant believe I met him in person and got to see Duncan Goodhew! I feel so honoured.

He played all the classics. Or at least that is what I was told as I walked in half way through the gig. I did get to touch him at the end though.

Lydia, Lydia how come you understand?
I can offer you nothing at all. This is more than I had planned.
Lydia, Lydia I am at your command,
At least until morning comes, then, I must be off again.

Over The Top

Paintballing brought out a different side to me. We were taking heavy fire on the right flank. The enemy village was within sight, we were running low on ammo and I had thrown my last smoke grenade to provide us with as much cover as possible. The barrels we crouched behind pinged contantly as a hail of paintballs rained down upon us.

LM: "Lets do it, lets go over"

HP: "Are you crazy?!!!...!"

LM: "We can take the village"

HP: "You will kill us both and for what? For honour?"

I grabbed his overalls around his shoulder and pulled him close

LM: "For death and glory!"

We charged forward.

War war is stupid

And people are stupid

And love means nothing

In some strange quarters

It took me a while to figure that out. The penny dropped soon after I was shot in the face. I thought I was PJ and Duncan all over again.

Run Forest Run

We are paint balling tomorrow and there has been a lot of macho talk, mostly from me, which is regrettable. HP says I have been giving out too much lip this week. He thinks that there is a very strong chance of friendly fire or "blue on blue" incidents.

He has given me some tips

1) If you see something sticking out, shoot it

2) Nothing macho about being shot in the groin and not having taken any precautions

3) Move move move

4) Rambo movies are not good guidance

5) Have the heart to lose the life that people want to live (what? suicide???)

I think he was struggling a bit toward the the end. He also suggested that I should call him The General and we should follow him as he is looking to establish a new world order. The picture below is from Platoon. Perhaps something from Apocalypse Now would have been more appropriate.

Welcome To England

People are going on about asylum seekers all the time. It annoys me. I explain to them that many people who have come to this country seeking refuge have gone on to become pillars of the community. Take Paddington Bear for example. Came to London fleeing from the ethnic cleansing of bears in Peru and made this country his home. Who doesn't like Paddington Bear? I have a friend to whom Paddington is the most favourite of all the bears. This is what I tell people, some of them take it on board, others look at me like I am a mental. I wish people would treat all bears the same. With compassion.

Top Five Bears
1) Paddington Bear
2) Panda Bear
3) Koala Bear
4) Care Bears
5) Winnie the Poo

Note Rupert is not on the list. That is because it is a stuck up, upper middle class, public school, good for nothing, boring bear. And he wears rubbish trousers the brandy drinking, golf club membership owning, Tory voting pompus twit.

Losing It

If anyone has lost some Ford keys on Bixteth Street then they are in the hallway in my building. They have been there for a while. I find a lot of things in my building. On one occasion I found a small boy. I didn't get any thanks for re-uniting him with his parents.

Top Five Finds
1) Small Boy
2) £10 on the street
3) Richard James shirt for £20 in the sale
4) 100 year old Kipling book (for £10)
5) Rosetta Stone

Something is Leaking

The couple in the ground floor flat are very pleasant people and this weekend they threw a party to celebrate their one year wedding anniversary. Not that I was invited, they just put a note under my door to say that they will be loud. I don't mind... really, I don't.

There was a bit of an after party party tonight which again I don't mind but if they think that they can tell their mates to pee in the plant pots in the court yard then they are very much mistaken. Especially when I happen to have my head out of my window (three floors up) as the guy whips out his Mr Johnson. I shouted down just before he got warmed up and told him that it was not a good idea.

His response was "but there is no options" as he pointed at the party (with his finger!).

At the age of 26 I think I have turned into a grumpy old man. Now where did I leave my slippers...