Porco Cane!

This is the first Italy post. It would have been the last African post, but Craig is too lazy to send me the photos to illustrate it, so you will just have to wait...

Anyway, what can be said about Italy that hasn't already. I keep finding myself drawn back to it's sheer beauty, this is my third visit in four years. This time through Frida, whom I haven't seen for six years. She was to be my tour guide for the next two weeks and she didn't disappoint...

The best tour guide Norther Italy has to offer

After a quite late arrival to Padova on Sunday, Frida and I had some food and some drink then I forced her to take a taxi back to hers. She spent the entire journey with her head below the window, in case one of her fellow students saw her. Taxis are not the done thing in Padova... The following day was a tour around Frida's university city. It was graduation day and the Padovan streets were awash with students being ritually humiliated by their friends and family.

That'll teach you to be clever...

Whilst in Padova we went on a tour of the oldest university in the world, where we saw Galileo's pulpit from which he used to teach. I kept trying to get Frida to touch it, but she was too frightened of the dour looking security guard behind us. Also on the tourist trail list was the famous Scrovegni chapel painted by Giotto. After a short wait in a decompression chamber we were allowed into the chapel. Frida and I made straight for the back wall and the depiction of Hell like the blaspheming bastards we are.

Why serve in Heaven when you can rule in Hell?

The chapel was absolutely beautiful, Giotto's depictions of various biblical stories were amazing in detail and technical aspects. I normally don't like churches as I am against what they stand for, but I can see the beauty in such art as this. The problem with this chapel is, it is said if you visit it before you graduate from Padova University, you will never get a degree. That's Frida screwed then.

We met Frida's friend Lucy for coffee and then visited the botanical gardens, which Frida found out was free for her as a student. She's been in Padova for four years and had never realised it. Students. Pah.

A flower at the botanical gardens, sorry Craig, it's not backlit

Venice was next on list, a beautiful city, but so incredibly crowded with tourists. Obviously we went into the San Marco Basilica and Doge's Palace, the two biggest tourist draws in the city. Within the Palace they had the original of Bosch's Hell, an unbelievably staggering piece of work from a genius. In an attempt to get away from the maddening crowds, Frida and I found ourselves a nice quiet spot by the Arsenal and talked shit for an hour or so. Well, it was very hot and we had been walking around the Palace for what seemed like forty hours...

Even gondoliers need their rest in this heat...

Continuing the speed tourism theme, Frida took me to Verona, with it's wealth of Roman archaeology. First stop was the amphitheatre, all decked out ready for Aida that evening. I had fun pretending I was in the People's Front of Judea, by hating the Romans already.

'Are you the Judean People's Front?'
'fuck off!'

Juliet's window was next on the itinery, but we declined the prospect of having our photos taken in what is possibly the most famous balcony in the world. After being dragged into more churches than I would ever wish for in a lifetime, we called in on the Roman Theatre, on the edge of the old city over the Roman Bridge Ponte Pietra. It was a beautiful building still being used for performances, most recently the Merchant of Venice. The museum above the theatre was packed with more Roman Archaeology than you could shake a stick at.

'I can see my house from here!'

Frida busied herself with translating every inscription in the place, whilst I feigned interest.

'It says "Alex is a cunt"'

So as punishment I made her pose for some photos:


The castle was closed and despite Frida swearing at the security guard in language that would make a sailor blush, we didn't get in. Again the evening was ended by lying next to the river soaking our weary feet and talking rubbish.

Starting off pretty late the next morning we took the train out to Bologna, this was Frida's favourite place of the week (mine was Verona, but that doesn't count, apparently...). I thought it too noisy as they allow vehicles into the centre of the city, which is something not done in the other places we visited.

Scooters, Coffee and Towers. Italy in three words...

After gazing at the fountains and buildings in the centre we set off up the Asinelli tower. Bologna was famed for it's towers in the Medieval period, everyone and their dog had one. A house wasn't a house without a tower. Nowadays only a few remain, but the Asinelli is one of the largest in Italy at nearly 100m tall. Not something for vertigo sufferers to ascend. After climbing the, what seemed like, 1,000,000 stairs to get to the top we were rewarded with a beautiful view of Bologna. Stretching out before me, it made me think of what a Roman city would have looked like, what with the red tile roofs and enclosed courtyards. Mind you, there would have been less buses in the Roman period...

An USAAF Bomber's view of Bologna, but with less Flak...

The Medieval Museum made a welcome relief from the 39 degree heat, as did the Resistance Museum, which was all in Italian. The pictures were good though.

The train went through Ferrara on the way back to Padova so we stopped for Pizza and a look at the beautiful Medieval town centre. One of the highlights was this massive cannon:

'Take what you want, just don't shoot the face!'

We missed our train home by seconds, so I convinced Frida to break the law by getting on another train which we didn't have a ticket for. Frida told me if the conductor came around I had to talk to him. If it looked like I was an idiot tourist we'd get away with it. She spent the entire journey home with her eyes closed feigning sleep in absolute fear of being caught. In the event the tickets weren't even checked and Frida took a step into a wider world of criminality...

Friday was so hot that Frida decided to ignore her pressing student work and we took off for the beach at Jesolo. After doing our good deed for the day by helping an American couple find the beach ('I think it's near that big blue wobbly thing' I told them, helpfully) Frida settled down for a couple of hours of hardcore sunbathing whilst I floated in the Adriatic. And thus ends part one of the Italian Blog, there is more to come, mountains, World War One, babies, food and prehistoric houses. I bet you can't wait...

More photos from Italy can be found Here and Here and finally Here

T.I.A. Baby!! Pt2

Welcome to Part Two of the South Africa blog, if you missed it the first part can be found HERE. This one concerns the second week's doings and our trip to the Drakensburg Mountains in the KwaZulu-Natal Province and the Battlefields of the Anglo-Zulu and Anglo-Boer Wars.

It was Granny (Joyce) and Fiona's joint birthdays on the Sunday after we finished in Kruger Park. Granny's birthday was the reason I was actually in South Africa anyway. It was her 90th and Craig had asked me if I wanted to go over with him as he was going anyway. Quickly finding cheap flights I said yes. Any chance to travel and I'm on it like a rat up a drainpipe... Granny had her celebration at the Piccadilly Deli in Barberton and this is were I met Archie, the playboy millionaire of Barberton. The man with his many fingers in many pies around Barberton. Flash with his cash, this man lives the dream. Of the rest of the guests, Mark, Craig, Fiona and I were the youngest by many decades. Barberton is famed for having the oldest rocks in the world, some 3.5 billion years old, to be semi-precise. That afternoon the Piccadilly Deli appeared to be full of people who were around at the time the Barberton rocks were forming. Needless to say, it turned into a drunken orgy of violence.

The oldest rocks in the world in Barberton, with the obligatory 'Asian Pose' Number 23 'Heart Shape'

The next morning we (Fiona, Mark, Craig, Lynne and I) set off for the Drakensberg Mountains. We stopped outside Dundee in KwaZulu-Natal and had lunch in the shadow of Talana Hill. In fact I had what was presented as 'London Fish and Chips'. Whether the fish and chips had been flown in from London especially for the occasion was unclear, but they were by no means as tasty as the Osbaldwick chippy's fish and chips in York which I covered in a previous entry. In other food related news, I tried no less than three different types of Chutney flavoured crisps on the way to Kwazulu-Natal. The Simba 'Mrs H.S. Ball's Chutney' flavoured ones were the best.

Simba Crisps, probably illegal in the EU due to dangerously high levels of flavourings and preservatives

Passing through Ladysmith, where a relative of mine died during the siege between 1899 and 1900, we continued the journey. Over the coming week we passed through Ladysmith several times and everytime we did I mentioned that I had a relative who had died there during the siege. There is nothing like spreading a bit of Sotheran family history. The place which we were staying at was Cayley Lodge thanks to Lynne's shady time share dealings. We were booked in by a rather pleasant Zulu, who told us all about the local services and entertainments rather than shoving an Assegai into our faces, thankfully.

The view from my window at Cayley Lodge. Jealous yet?

Before I left the UK, I had insisted to Craig that I would have to visit Rorke's Drift if I was to go to South Africa, so this was one of the reasons we had gone to the Drakensburg as it was close to the old battlefields. Tied in with this was the battlefield at Isandlwana, scene of the massive British defeat at the hands (literally) of the Zulu army. We followed almost the precise route of Chelmsford's army when they advanced into Zululand that fateful January in 1879. Down a dirt road where it appeared to be grass burning day inKwaZulu-Natal as everyone and his dog was at it.

One starts it and everyone else joins in. Bloody typical.

We rounded the Shiyane Hill and the missionary station stood before us. It was actually amazing to see the place, which until then had only been visualised in my mind by the film Zulu. Although all the original buildings were either destroyed or pulled down after the battle, the ones that stand there now are pretty much on the originals footprints, so one can get a real sense of the tiny compound and how much balls it took to stand and fight in the face of an oncoming Zulu army.

'Zulus Sir! Thousands of them!'

'Where?'

Craig and I climbed up Shiyane Hill and looked down on the complex from the point of view of the Zulu sharpshooters. In fact we were pretending to be Zulu sharpshooters when a jogger turned up and spoiled our fun.

'Now there's a bitter pill. Our own damned rifles!'

Rorke's drift was definitely one of the highlights of the trip and somewhere I never thought I would see. People kept saying 'there's nothing at Rorke's Drift', but without knowledge of the ground and the turn of events battlefields are just fields. When you have an understanding of what went on at a particular time and place, then they come alive and you can almost see the fighting men. At Rorke's Drift this was how I felt. You could picture the men helping the wounded across the open courtyard under constant rifle fire from the surrounding hills. You could feel the desperation of the Zulu attacks against the hospital veranda. You could almost summon the gallantry and fear of the defenders as they pulled back into the tiny final mealie bagged position. It must have felt as though all hope had gone, the last position of fighting with no fall backs. But after hours of fighting off repeated attacks the British still stood. Both sides showed enormous gallantry that day and night of January 22/23 and Rorke's drift stands as a testament to it.

The British Monument at Rorke's Drift

The Zulu Monument at Rorke's Drift

Continuing the Battlefield theme we continued on to Isandlwana, over the bridge where the original Pontoon bridge stood in 1879. Despite being told by an elderly Zulu that the place was closed, we saw the gates were open and a party of Welsh Rugby supporters were already there. We had made it just too late to get a proper look at the Battlefield and I would have liked a couple of more hours to get the feel of the place. Still, the poignancy of the cairns which scattered the area, marking where the British dead were found, lent an air of sadness to what would otherwise is a beautiful spot. The hill of Isandlwana towered above the battlefield and one could easily imagine the Zulu army streaming down the surrounding hills and up the valley towards the British camp.

One of the many Memorials at Isandlwana with the famous hill behind

Whilst staying at Cayley Lodge there was an organised hike, so Mark, Fiona, Craig and I signed up. The guide showed us some Bushmen paintings in a small cave overlooking a waterfall. It's strange how people always want to make their surroundings better no matter where and in what time they lived.

It's DIY for the first millenium

As we hiked through a small Zulu village, Craig overheard one of the fat tourists that made up most of our party spouting shit. The dumb cunt said 'why has that shack got corrugated tin on the roof? Why couldn't they have used thatch like some of the the others? Corrugated tin ruins the ambiance.' It just exemplified the difference in South Africa (and other parts of the world) between rich and poor. There we were heading back to our safe, fenced off multi-million Rand holiday complex, back to our cars, computers and TVs, whilst some kids were playing with a broken plastic bottle in a stream because they had nothing else in the world.

These kids had literally NOTHING in the world, do you think they cared whether their tin roof ruined the ambiance?

Spion Kop was the next battlefield on the list and we visited it a couple of days after Isandlwana. Well, there was other people in our party who weren't interested in military history so we had to do some thing else in the intervening day. Unbelievable I know, but there it is. The most memorable part of this None-War day was seeing a newspaper headline which read 'Giraffe Horror Crash' I wanted to know what the Hell a giraffe was doing in a car anyway, is it just me or do we need tighter controls on allowing animals to drive around like they own the road?

Stop the Madness!!

After being saluted through the gate at Spion Kop, we made our way up the hill to follow the self guided tour the guard gave us. Again, the importance of visiting battlefields to understanding military history was clearly shown. The hill overlooks all the surrounding areas and controls access to Ladysmith. It was a very important position for reconnaissance. This is something that a lot of people don't understand. A South African family we bumped into got chatting to Craig and I, and one of them asked why were the Boers and the British fighting over what they thought was just a hill? He was making the point that the guns wouldn't be able to hit people in the valleys below. I pointed out it was more important to SEE the enemy than kill them from this vantage point. The mass graves and the pre-CWGC battlefield monuments were testament to the fighting men there that lost their lives.

At the setting of the sun...

The Spion Kop trip wrapped up the visit to the Drakensburg Mountains, a beautiful part of the world, even if it was cold. We all headed back to Barberton the following day, saying goodbye to Mark and Fiona who were on their way back home to Sydney. Craig and I were destined to stay in Barberton the following week, but more about that in the next episode of T.I.A. Baby!!

The Dramatic Drakensberg

T.I.A. Baby!!

This is the first part of the Africa blog. As it went over three weeks long, rather than doing one massive entry which you would get bored half way through, I have decided to try to split it into a few parts. As we went to a different area pretty much each week it would be sensible to write about each of these areas in turn. I don't know why I'm telling you this, as it makes no difference what you think, cos I'm going to do it anyway. So sit back and enjoy... This Is Africa Baby!!

Part One: Arrival and Kruger Park

I touched base on the 22nd of June and was met almost immediately by Craig and Vivian at the airport. Back at Vivian and Derek's place (a house, which working as an archaeologist, I would never be able to afford...) I met Fiona (Craig's sister) and Mark (Craig's brother in law), both of whom would become a pretty permanent fixture through the next two weeks. As I had not slept the preceding day I crashed out pretty quickly ready for the following day's drive over to Barberton.

I think we took a wrong turn...

The drive was pretty nice, the only problem was nearly being raped near Long Tom Pass. When I say nearly raped, I mean a truck load of Africans turned up, which spooked Fiona and we left pretty sharpish.

The Best thing about Long Tom Pass is this MASSIVE FUCKING GUN!

We met up with Lynne (Craig and Fiona's ma) and Joyce (Craig and Fiona's Granny) at Barberton and had a civilized tea with them, while about a million cats crawled all over us. The overall plan was to head out to Kruger National Park and spend the week there in the park's accommodation, so everyone had an early night.

Kruger Park is amazing, all the literature (and everyone we met) tells you that it is the size of Wales. I was told this so often that I began to wonder if Wales had become a new unit of measurement; 'Ah yes, it's half the size of Wales'; 'Can I get some apples please? About 1/678395ths of Wales will do, please.' But differently to Wales the only thing that lives there are wild animals, except for at the accommodation and the staff villages. This, I thought, would be a good thing to do with Wales as well. Fence it off and get rid of the Welsh and you'd have a nice little nature park for the rest of Britain to enjoy. The entire park is fenced off or is bordered by rivers and it also reaches into Mozambique and Zimbabwe. There are some issues about poaching and the general treatment of animals, especially in Zimbabwe. But given Zimbabwe's history of treatment of humans, reversal of this problem is probably not high on their list of priorities. You have to stay in your car at all times in the park and are not even allowed to open your windows (in theory). We stayed over in Satara camp for most of the time, in quasi-African huts, the camp gates are all closed strictly at 5.30 each night and not opened again until 6.30 the next morning (unless you go on a park arranged early morning ride, see below).

Pass the bongos

These two facts made me start doubting the park and it's size. I wondered if the park was really the size of Wales and but actually only stretched about 20-30 meters either side of the road where large back drop paintings of the horizon and sky had been placed. In reality are all the animals locked up each night only to be released every morning before the tourists are allowed out? The fact that you can't get out of the car or leave the camps at night to test this theory must prove it is right. Well, this kind of thinking works for Conspiracy Theorists...

Is it really the size of Wales? Or are there greater forces at work here?

although the park is pretty much cut off from the rest of the world, we still managed to hear about Michael Jackson's death (later on during my time in Africa, Craig and I watched some of his overblown tribute in LA until we got bored after about ten minutes. I just hope Gary Glitter gets the same treatment when he dies, after all he is pretty similar to Jackson, a penniless, bankrupt, kiddy fiddler who hasn't released a studio album for over ten years...). In fact I will know exactly where I was when I heard he had died should someone ask: I was watching a Leopard's arse disappear into some tall grass. Actually we had been tracking it (the Leopard, not Michael Jackson) for about twenty minutes with a load of Rock Spiders who appeared to be hanging their kids out of the window as bait (After we heard of MJ's death, Craig and I took to winding down the windows every time we passed a parked car and rather than asking what animal they had seen (as is the custom) we told the occupants that Michael Jackson was dead and drove on). The Leopard was the last of the so-called 'Big Five' of Kruger park that I saw. The others animals in the 'Big Five' are the Rhinoceros, Buffalo, Elephant and the Lion. We were very fortunate to see all five, as it has been known for some people to go into the park for weeks and not even see an single Impala (called the MacDonald's of Kruger as they are so plentiful and ubiquitous). Rather than describe every sighting we had I have put a list at the end of this piece of all the animals we did see whilst in the park.

Giraffes, not one of the 'Big Five', but just big...

One morning, Craig, Fiona, Mark and I decided on doing a Morning Drive as organised by the park. We set off before light and the vehicle had spotlights, operated by the passengers (more on this later).

The intrepid travellers, treading new ground...

One of the first things we saw were three buffaloes, which our driver, Edward, told us were old Buffaloes, separated from the rest of the herd as they were unable to keep up due to their age. We turned 180 degrees and on the other side of the road was the rest of the herd. I would have suggested that they were separated by the road, rather than old age... Edward also told us that three Elephants we saw were male, then changed his mind and said they were all females. At one point Edward also got out of the truck where a pride of lions had been enjoying a light snack of some other animals the night before. We were thinking we would have to draw lots as to who drove the truck back had the lions still been around... Mind you, he did inform us how to tell the difference between male and female Zebras: Males are Black and White, Female are White and Black.

Edward and Me, the most uninformed tour guide of Kruger Park

What was fascinating during this ride was the sighting of the Lesser Spotted Tourist. It was sitting directly in front of me and although I couldn't discern its gender, it made for fascinating viewing. She/he was in charge of one of the spotlights on our side of the truck and, boy, did they NOT know how to use it. Rather than shining the light into the bushes, he/she was shining the beam all over the tops of trees, at the road and towards the stars. It was a wonder we saw anything at all. I managed to get several photos of him/her and I present them below, this was a once in a lifetime experience, so please enjoy the photos:

He/she in it's natural habitat

He/she in camouflage

A good study of the Lesser Spotted Tourist

He/she spots something and begins to stalk...

Back in his/her lair the Lesser Spotted Tourist is most happy

Here is a list of the animals I saw in Kruger, some of them have my pictures along with them. Just because there isn't a picture of the animal, doesn't mean that I didn't see it, so I don't care if you believe this list or not. It's all true and I have the official Kruger Park Tick List to prove it. Click on the name to read more about each animal, I'm not Johnny Morris and know nothing about wildlife, so you can do your own research:

Banded Mongoose

Black-backed Jackal

Blue Wildebeest

Buffalo


Chacma Baboon


Cheetah


Common Duiker

Common Reedbuck

Crocodile

Dwarf Mongoose

Elephant


Giraffe


Hippopotamus


Impala

Kudu

Leopard

Leopard Tortoise

Lion


Plains Zebra


Rock Monitor

Serrated Hinged Terrapin

Spotted Hyena


Steenbok

Tree Squirrel

Vervet Monkey

Warthog

Waterbuck

White Rhinoceros

We saw several species of birds as well, but I'm not going to list these as I'm not a twitcher. The rarest animal we saw was the Tsessebe (try saying that when you're sober...), of which there are only two hundred in the park:

Tsessebe, as rare as hen's teeth or rocking horse shit

OK, that's it for part one. I'm off to Italy for ten days on Sunday, so I will try to write another chapter of this by then, or else you will have to wait for a while to see what happened to me in the Drakonsburg!

ARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!

We were at Isandlwana and were attacked by 15,000 Zulu WArriors. Craig got Assagaied in the face but I managed to escape to Rorke's Drift. It looks like loads of Zulus are coming around the hill, I hope nothing bad will happen...

PLEASE SEND HELP!!!!!

Come in number six, your time is up...

Since getting back to South Yorkshire I've been working at Castleton in Derbyshire on Sheffield University's dig there.It's been quite a change from the York University dig. On the one hand there is only ten students as appose to ninety. also there are only four trenches on the site. Curiously (or not, if you know Colin and his methods), the trenches were not numbered sequentially but rather in the order the foliage was removed from them so instead of going east to west as 1,2,3 & 4, the trenches went 1,3,2 & 4. At least working with Colin keeps you on your toes. Anyhoo, Tim was there, he'd been running around for the previous days like a blue arsed fly trying to keep the trenches in running order whilst Colin railed against either the Labour Party or Sheffield University. I showed up and put everything right. Actually I didn't, I showed up and made bad jokes and flirted with the girls. My usual way of dealing with site work. I went down to the Deli in Hope Village and was served by a rather surly woman, who made the most fantastic food. My Lemon Pepper Chicken sandwich really freaked young Ryan out. 'What's wrong with just ham on a sandwich?' he asked. 'The lack of any flavour' said I.

Ryan's food Heaven, my food Hell...

I awoke this morning to the sounds of my parents moving about. 'Christ,' I thought 'They're up early.' I then realised I'd not set my alarm and I was late for work. I called Tim and he berated me about not getting up. As I was going through Sheffield Tim called me back and told me the trenches were already flooded and it was siling it down so I would be better off back in bed. I turned the car around. I met Mark in Rotherham just this afternoon. I had gone in to buy a couple of things and try to sort out the phone that Dave had given me ages ago. It needs unlocking so I can use my Sim card in it. It also needs a charger so I can put some battery power into it. I found out I also need to find out what operating system it uses so I can get it unlocked. So it looks like it's not getting unlocked and is worse than useless. I also tried to pay £38 into the bank in small change. But, although it is Saturday and the only day most people can get to the banks, the tills were all shut and the two girls, who's only job it seemed to be was making sure nobody broke or robbed the cash machines, told me it would be impossible to pay my money in. I was thinking while I was discussing it with them 'why can't you do it for me?' The only thing that didn't make it a wasted trip was a long discussion with Mark over a J2O about comics, vampires and Quentin Tarantino.

A real Vampire, not one of those Cyber-Goth-Sunglasses-wearing-Psuedo-Vampires that seem to be everywhere these days...

Neptune Towers

Craig made a swift exit on Sunday evening, I dropped him over to Leeds for the next floor he is destined to sleep on for a while. I on the other hand, filled my remaining time in York with a meeting with my group about their presentations, which basically turned into a trip to the pub after a few jokes at my expense. I had to look after John's bunch as well (Team Lady), he engineered it so that, rather than face them again, he took off to a hermitage in Germany for three months. That man has no back bone. They are only girls, John, they don't bite. The discussion with Team Lady seemed to centre around one of the girl's friends who was having a crisis in her relationship; namely which of two fellas she liked the most, and me telling them all about the remains we found at the Barbican centre over a year ago. After this padding out of general knowledge to make it look like I wasn't taking the piss and getting paid for a full days work after only having done an hour and a half, I was chatting to Cath. She was saying that Matt hadn't done nearly half as much recording as he had said he had and she would have to go back on site over the next couple of evenings and finish off. In a moment of absolute insanity I said 'Would you like me to do it? I'm finished here and have nothing else to do.' So that's how I found myself alone back on the site drawing three sections and three plans and one large profile of a V Shaped Roman enclosure ditch. Mind you, what would have taken Cath three days to complete I finished in two hours. A minor achievement on my part.

I went to see Star Trek yesterday with Aleisha and Emlyn, here's the review: Meh.

Star Trek: it's not Star Wars

On Sunday morning I awoke to find Cleo the cat screeching like a banshee at me. She seemed to be hungry so I opened a fresh food sachet for her and fed her. As I put the remaining half of the bag in the fridge, I noticed another already opened. In a discussion later with Craig it seems he had opened this and fed Cleo half of it an hour before I awoke. The little shit, she must have been rubbing her paws together thinking 'ha, check out these two tards, if I pretend to be hungry they'll keep feeding me.' I told Craig we should feed her til she bursts to teach her a lesson. When Craig left, Cleo realised that I was the only gateway she had to food. Her lack of opposable thumbs was making it difficult for her to use the tin opener. She set about building bridges with me. I have not been her greatest fan since the other day when she took a chunk out of my cheek for stroking her. She tried everything she could to get food out of me over the next two days. Sitting on my lap, climbing on the chair beside me, pawing at my arm. To which she got the reply 'fuck off and hunt a mouse or something. You're a cat, do what cats do.'

Cleo, trying to work out what cats do.

Iconoclasm Sweeps Cappadocia

John left on Thursday, thank God. at least the beatings have stopped and I have regained feeling down the right side of my body. I no longer have the nightmares and neither do I have to check behind every door when I enter a room. As a replacement for John, Craig moved in. He had to move out of Marcus' place as Marcus' missus was coming back from a year long stint teaching Polish/Swedish/English/whatever in China and they had a lot of catching up to do. It probably involves that rope contraption Marcus has set up in his front room, 'for her yoga', or so he tried to explain it away to me. Whatever they were planning on doing, Craig was no longer welcome to sleep on the futon in Marcus' front room and he was cast out on the streets again. But as soon as Craig moved in we had a sexy party, full of topless teens and spiked punch. Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez.

Clay's gone!! Everybody say PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

On Friday Claire and I finished off the site, along with the help from a First Year student, Richard. The three of us tore the site a new asshole along with some help of a serving of grease from the Osbaldwick chipshop. The Osbaldwick chippy is the best in York by far, I used to live around the corner and it was a regular haunt of mine after getting in from packing computer games all day at Gamestation on a Friday night. It still keeps its reputation high but gone are the photographs of various celebrities that bought their fish and chips there. Among the illustrious stars that have had a portion of 'haddock, chips and scraps, open' are Sir Michael Caine, Dame Joanna Lumley, Dame Cilla Black, and not only Ant, but Dec too. Hot on the heels of such stellar customers, Osbaldwick fisheries was also visited by the living legend that is Bob Carolgees, though whether Spit the Dog was in attendance I never found out. Mind you, having a dog that spits everywhere would not be the most hygienic visitor to a chip shop and if the authorities found out the Osbaldwick fisheries would have been closed down in an instant. What these celebrities were doing buying chips in such a far flung place as Osbaldwick I never found out. It's not beyond reasonable doubt that these stars would visit York, or even buy chips at some point during their stay. But for them to venture out the land of 'here be Dragons...' that is Osbaldwick for a portion of heart attack in batter still baffles me.

Although it is unknown whether Amy Whinehouse visited the Osbaldwick Chippy, she would always be welcome. As long as she didn't bring her drugs.