Ok, here's the sitch. I'm back at work after a fabulous 5-day trip to Paris, and 4 great days spent at home doing very very little apart from defrosting my freezer, spending a night with my GF and attending Austen's excellent 34th birthday soiree on Sat night. When I wasn't being social I had piles of comics to wade through, a loaned box-set of the much-funnier-than-Family-Guy American Dad and 90 odd episodes of the Justice League cartoon to keep me amused, all exactly what the Doctor would have ordered if he were responsible for keeping my soul happy, bless his corduroy jacket and comedy stethoscope.
Paris was WONDERFUL but very tiring. I was moving constantly for those five days and was accompanied for most of it, meaning my poor Introvert batteries were very low by the time I got back into Aberdeen late on Wednesday night: for someone who requires solitude to recharge spending five days being social is a big deal. Thankfully my hosts were the most charming and lovely people I could hope to have stayed with - Lucie is a darling and Ben did his very best to make sure I saw everything there was to see and thoroughly enjoyed myself. Cheers for that, Gazelle Boy! Much appreciated!
Oh yes I must mention the stress. I'm not a very relaxed traveller, folks; I tend to fret and angst over every detail, particularly when it comes to Airports/Trains etc, and there had been more than one occasion where panic set in during my trip....
...which I'd love to tell you about here but I'm going to have to ask you to wait a little longer. Sorry.
Truth is, writing blogs has been about the furthest thing from my mind during my week off, and now that I'm back at work, worrying about the xmas presents I haven't yet bought and looking at a rather eventful social calendar coming up from now until, er, January there doesn't seem to be much time left for grand prose or breathless reports of my adventures. I also have 138 photographs sitting awaiting review, most of which I'd love to speak about but my goodness where am I going to get the time to sift through 138 jpegs, format and tidy them for upload and write amazingly witty captions for them all?
Ahem...Leaving aside my poor organisational skills I have another important, nay, life-changing piece of news I wish to share with the world at large. One of my very good Man-Friends has finally proven the potency and healthy functionality of his donated genetic material by initiating within his mate the most extreme period of biochemical manufacturing a woman can experience - the creation of another human being, typically assembled from raw material scraped parasitically from the poor mother and bolstered by double helpings of limescale-and-chips (washed down with beetroot vinegar). Yes, my long time drinking buddy Tony is going to become father to one of those mewling, screaming, puking, pooping engines more commonly known as a 'Child', ruining not only his health, his sleep, his social life and his bank balance1 for the next 16+ years but also putting severe strain on his scalp's ability to produce dark hair. (Not that he has much of that left anyway - heh. ) Baby is already in its2 fifth month of construction and is the proud star of some extraordinarily clear medical scans, another of which is due this coming Friday. If I can I'll try to get pics to show here on t'blog.
[UPDATE] Saw Tony tonight, funnily enough, and begged this off him:
Awe-inspiring, isn't it? Baby is around 16 weeks old in this pic. I gazed at this for a long time until I saw it, but now I'm absolutely convinced: Tony's girlfriend is giving birth to The Schmoo! I'm sure that once you've glanced back and forth at the pics above and below a few hundred times you'll have no option but to agree with me - the resemblance is uncanny:
I have no idea what's happening in this picture. None whatsoever. Caption competition? Interestingly, I was the last to be told about this joyous event by a margin of several months, apparently because Tony's reading of my blog seems to be the same thing in his mind as us conversing in a two-way dialogue. He knows what I'm up to so logically the reverse must be true, which finally explains why he never calls...*sniff*.
Tony WAS very cute about it though, despite me poking him verbally for signs of Dad-Shock. His first question to me, amusing in its naked desperation, was "Can you change nappies?!". Thanks to my three younger brothers, and my mother's odd predilection for adopting pregnant teenage women, I am an old hand at nappy-changing and thus responded firmly and as comfortingly as I could in the affirmative, which seemed to relax him suitably. How lovely a thing it is to see the future, and to know that yellow-and-blue baby poo is waiting for me within it.
But let not my blatant irreverence cloud the sparkling wonder of this glorious affirmation of life, no! I, for one, welcome this new addition to Humanity's genetic pool, and will be checking for satanic numerals on the child's humourously large cranium as soon as it emerges into the gray light of our fragile little world. Hmm, come to think of it, I wonder if they'll be visible in the scan...
* * * * * * * * 1Babies have a habit of doing this, and not just to their parents. My very first interaction with my colleagues this morning was Elaine frantically beckoning me over to her desk, NOT to debrief me on my fabulous week away but to beg £5 off me to celebrate the birth of another sprog little miracle fathered by one of our database guys. Bloomin' cheek. When baby Emilia turns 16 and enters a bar for the first time I'm going to be there waiting for her to reciprocate with a nice cool pint. Oh yes, we Scots have long memories when it comes to money... 2Gender TBA
As one ages, one's tolerance for the finer things in life undergoes a sad decline. It's a sobering Fact of Life that us thirty-somethings do not have the same energy or stamina of our twenty-something peers. Nights out on the town are more of a challenge than in days of yore; we tire faster and take longer to recover afterwards, a slightly depressing reminder of our fading mortality (for the deeper thinkers out there, the rest of you just carry on staring at the shiny things).
So it's always nice when a night slips through that bucks the trend.
My good friend Deborah enjoyed her 26th birthday last week but failed to celebrate it in any significant way. So last night, her friend, colleague and fully-paid-up Frenchman, Alain, held a soiree back at his rather impressive batchelor pad and shoe-horned her belated celebration into the proceedings, cake and all. On the guest list were a random and eclectic collection of Aberdeen University's continental contingent; two beautiful French ladies: two lively German girls: one larger-than-life German male: one Scots student of Herring Penises and her Brussels-born fiance: one unlawfully* handsome and charming male of indeterminate origin and staggering linguistic capability...and yours truly.
I arrived late to the party - not fashionably (Fashion and I ceased communicating years ago), just rather later than intended due to my getting my own close friend and colleague, Suzanne, curiously more inebriated than I'd ever seen her. Suzanne had bravely accepted my offer to keep me company in town while I killed an hour or two waiting for the party to start, but her empty stomach was not best prepared for a full bottle of red wine flowing smoothly over her deliriously happy taste buds.
Once again my reputation as a Corrupter of Innocents () had emerged from the abyssal darknesses of my character, but I was happy to learn later that she arrived home safe and well...and had promptly fallen in her bath (as relayed to me via the medium of text at ohmygodgobacktosleep O'clock this morning).
Moving on, with much-needed rapidity...
I arrived in deepest, darkest Tillydrone - one of Aberdeen's wilder, less-civilised suburbs - by the good graces of one of our fair city's genial taxi-herders, the bus services looking less than convenient at only 8pm. Alain's place was a mere hop, skip and a jump from where I was dropped off, sparing me the potential nightmare of hunting, alone, in such a notorious neighbourhood. People have died for less.
No, seriously.
As to the party itself, what can be said that won't have been said about every other party in existence? We drank, we ate, we laughed, we mocked, we danced, the girls straightened Alain's unruly-but-rogueish blonde hair...
Allo. Je m'appelle Alain, and I love ze UK ladeez...call moi? until, as individuals, we felt we could do no more and headed home to our nice, warm beds. I heard the call around 2am, and walked home - for my own home was a mere fifteen minutes away - in the driving, billowing snow:
Peaceful, tranquil, not as cold as it looked... I'm sorry, didn't I mention that? Yes, November 21st saw the first strains of winter beginning to arrive in North East Scotland as Aberdeen was blanketed by a carpet of crisp snowfall which affected us not a jot, contrasted amusingly with our foppish English counterparts for whom a few flakes scattered here and there heralds the grinding, panicked halt of civilisation itself.
A Good Night, then. One that amused me, entertained me, and re-affirmed my ability to drink quantities of alcohol serious enough to damage younger friends, while remaining personable and intelligent company. Here's to growing old gracefully.
* * * * * * * * * *The Laws of Ego generally require that members of my gender better-looking and more socially-adept than I are killed on sight. Somehow this one was permitted to live leading me to suspect I may be mellowing in my old age...Bah!
For a few weeks now I’ve been greatly looking forward to a trip to York; you may have noticed the countdown recently appear on the right-hand sidebar. Some friends of mine were married last year, but wanted to hold a reception in York this year for all the people they know down in England who weren’t able to attend the wedding in Aberdeen.
I was delighted to receive my invitation. York is one of those places I’d always wanted to visit, ever since watching Blue Peter as a lad during the restoration of York Minster’s South Transept after it was devastated by fire in 1984. So it was with a keen enthusiasm I set about organising the details of my trip.
In a recent trip she’d made to York, where she’d posted some lovely pictures of the beautiful old town buildings and shops, Cookery and Blogging superstar Kirsten had mentioned travelling down from Edinburgh by rail for the tiny sum of £10 per ticket – as both a canny Scot and a man with a keen eye for a bargain, this appealed to me on many levels, and with some direction from Kirsten I managed to set myself up with similar arrangements very shortly afterwards.
Booking accommodation proved to be more complicated, especially when I decided to ask my GF to accompany me (my ‘plus one’ as per the invitation). Debbie is a travel agent for American Express and she could get vouchers from her personal bonus scheme to cover the cost of three night’s stay in York’s Park Hilton hotel. However, arranging the vouchers has proven to be a lengthy process, what with them coming from an office in Belgium, apparently, and as I write we have still not received them. Frustratingly, we can’t make the booking until we get the vouchers. I won’t be happy until everything is booked and organised and I freely admit I’ve been a bit of a nuisance about it, bugging her about the vouchers practically every time I see her; I’m doing my best to be patient, really I am, but I don’t like leaving details like this to the last minute. By contrast, I’ve had the train tickets sitting comfortably on my mantle at home for about three weeks now.
Sadly, this weekend past has seen some bad news regarding the entire event. Sandra*, one of the two lovely girls who were married last year, who was doing amazingly well recovering from Leukaemia since the start of the year, suffered a relapse and will be starting chemotherapy as soon as a donor is found for a bone marrow transplant. As can be expected the chemo is going to play merry hell with her health and the chances of her being well enough to attend her own reception are now looking slim, slimmer if she suffers an infection while her immune system is ravaged by the therapy.
Her partner, Emma*, has emailed a very practical letter to all involved suggesting certain options for the event to continue in some form (such a brave letter in the face of her obvious heartbreak) but obviously this very much depends on Sandra’s progress.
So, mixed amidst all the natural and very real concern for Sandra’s health is the disappointment that I may not get to see York after all; slightly selfish, but then I was really looking forward to the trip, particularly as I have not taken a proper holiday since the start of the year. If the event itself is cancelled Debbie and I could still go down for a long weekend as originally planned, but I’m not sure how bittersweet that would be under the circumstances.
So today I’m going to check the rail tickets I’ve booked and how easy it would be to cancel or rearrange them. Also, it might actually work to our advantage that the hotel vouchers haven’t arrived yet. And...I might just look into getting myself tested to be a Bone Marrow donor. The chances I might be enough of a genetic match for Sandra’s bone tissues are probably tiny, but I’ll never know until I try.
Fed up with today already and its only ten past eleven. Work is being completely annoying, to the point of boiling frustration, but the thing that's really got me down is that I've upset/pissed off a good friend through my thoughtlessness. All I want to do now is go home and bury my head, preferably under my duvet.
A more serious post for you today, peeps. Some very emotional stuff for me, so serious in fact that I’m going to actually change any names I use (Nothing to do with protecting the innocent, more about my psychological comfort). Normally I use first names but omit surnames but in this case I don’t want to use either. You will, however, see a few pictures...
I vote today’s title as the Most Random and Nonsensical one yet. You’ll agree with me by the end, I promise. Catchy though, huh? Try saying it a few times.
A very quick one today, my way of saying I'm still alive – I’ve had no time to write any of the vast and elaborate blog entries I’ve wanted to due to my week being so gosh-darned, all-fired busy! Since last Friday I’ve:
Looked after my GF when she got ill with one of her horrible Migraines
Welcomed Dr’s Lenny and Sarah back to the ‘Deen from their homes in deepest, darkest Wales
Finally started the first part of my filming for ‘Capsized’
Collecting a pair of new couches from the tiny village of Fyvie, owned by a scary pair of Mad English people (Well, SHE was Mad, and possibly the most annoying woman I've ever met. HE merely had that tragic look of long-suffering tolerance that Husbands get when they're trapped in a marriage with a dominant mad wife...)
Spent a day and a half being poorly myself
Spent some quality time with Dr Lenny playing the fabulous Ico on his PS2
Gone back to work and very much wished I hadn’t bothered; I got humped, to use a phrase I’m particularly fond of...
Bought myself the eye-tearingly gorgeous Unreal Tournament 3, and really enjoyed it despite the predictable fan backlash suggesting it wasn't as good as its predecessors
Wined and dined in a Greek restaurant where I fell off a perfectly stable chair startling everyone in the place. Oh yes, and also introducing my friends to my lovely new girlfriend! (They all loved her, naturally )
Phew! So many stories, so much fun, so much wine... ...all of which has left me no time at all to come here and tell you all about any of it! Bah!
So yeah, before I go, I’ll leave you with some info about the filming (couldn’t drop that little gem into the post and run off leaving you with nothing to look at!) You might want to check out Zoffin film’s website – the latest blog entry is about what we did on Sunday. There’s also a gallery of snaps taken by yours truly (meaning none of me, sadly – sorry!)
...and that’s all, folks. See y’all soon!
PS: I appear to have been added as an Opera 'friend' by a pair of Sarahs. If you're quick you can see their pics in the recent visitors box below. Hello, Sarahs! *waves*
Now that I've decided to give Facebook another go, I'm trying to get my PC set up to help me interact with it in the easiest way possible. This has proven complicated on a couple of points:
Opera is my default browser but currently has problems interacting with the site. A quick check of the forums shows that Opera themsevles are aware of this and are working to correct it. Don't know how much longer this will take to sort, though.
Firefox works on Windows fine but in Linux I couldn't open Firefox as a normal user, I had to be root which on Mandriva is kinda complicated. Perfectly do-able, but kind of a pain to do every time I need a browser. But thanks to a quick search on google this has now been sorted! Turns out it was a problem with Fx's profile folder. As per the advice I found, renaming the folder to something innocuous forced Firefox to make a new one and after that it behaved perfectly. This is great. Opera is a brilliant browser but there are a few sites I need, e.g- my bank, that don't recognise it and therefore don't work properly. Having Firefox easily accesible means I can now rely on it as a backup. (NB: Mandriva still only have the Firefox 2 series in their repositories, even though Firefox 3 is almost finished and is wonderfully fast and stable. When Mandriva get around to including 3, probably after release, I may have to re-evaluate the browser situation...!)
Also, it seems someone has written a toolbar for Firefox that lets a user interact with Facebook - recieve updates and the like, easy navigation, etc - all without having to have the page itself open in a tab! I forsee this becoming very useful in future and urge any Firefox/Facebook-using ppl out there to have a look.
I've enjoyed a very low-key birthday this year (But thanks to everyone who remembered me!). Couldn't be assed with everyone fussing or having a big bash in town so I spent the day at work, and then relaxed at home by myself with good food - Mediterranean vegetable pizza - and a bottle of wine. But I think my friend Debs felt a bit sorry for me so she arranged a geek evening for the night after. Sadly, one of the other invitees had to drop out - her partner wasn't feeling very well - so it ended up just Debs and I. This was no bad thing in my book, as Debs and I never seem to get much time to spend with each other.
Debs - a.k.a the FlakMonkey - is a great cook, much like her sister, Sarah, and plied me with all manner of exotic goodies, including a green pea humous mixed with lemon juice and tahini (which I'd never even heard of until she asked me to pick some up for her) and what we could only describe as 'Korma Soup'. She'd seen the recipe in the local newspaper and committed it to memory; onions, sweet potatoes, coconut milk and curry powder of some description. It really did taste like my favourite korma dish...but as a soup! Yum!
Oh, and she also baked a lovely banana and chocolate cake for me which was delicious.
After that we played a game of Hnefetafl - 'Kings Table' to you and me - and then spent the rest of the night (and most of the next morning!) sat next to her laptop playing tunes for each other on Youtube. It was a fantastic night full of laughter and the simple pleasures of singing/bopping along to some of your most beloved tunes...
...including this gloriously filthy techno number from Benny Benassi that I'd never heard before: 'Who's your daddy?' (WARNING: NOT Suitable for work! )
Debs and I both adore a wide range of tuneful, bangin' techno so this went down an absolute treat. Jeez-o, how good is this video??! Sigh...
The funeral for Tony's father has been set for this coming Wednesday, the 13th. I'll be heading down, as will Austen and Claire, both also resident here in Aberdeen, while Andrew and another of our circle, Jamie, will be travelling up from Hawick and Coldstream respectively.
I phoned Tony on Wednesday to pass on my condolences. I almost wish I hadn't because hearing Tony speak, hearing the borderline hysteria in his voice, hearing the titanic effort he was making to keep himself from falling to pieces while he dealt with the horrible organisational details of his father's sudden death...hearing that nearly broke my heart. It must be the worst feeling in the world to lose someone that close to you but it is also tremendously difficult to know what to say to someone who this has happened to, especially if you haven't suffered a similar loss yourself. There literally are no words that don't sound trite, hollow, or otherwise completely meaningless. How can mere words help overcome a pain of this depth, this magnitude?
All you can do, absolutely the only thing you can possibly manage...is to try to be there, wether that person needs you or not.
So yes, we're all going to meet in Perth on the 13th and do our best to be there for him. To give him the very best of our love in the hope that he can take some small comfort from it.
) Baby is already in its2 fifth month of construction and is the proud star of some extraordinarily clear medical scans, another of which is due this coming Friday. If I can I'll try to get pics to show here on t'blog.
) had emerged from the abyssal darknesses of my character, but I was happy to learn later that she arrived home safe and well...and had promptly fallen in her bath (as relayed to me via the medium of text at ohmygodgobacktosleep O'clock this morning).
)
...all of which has left me no time at all to come here and tell you all about any of it! Bah!
(NB: Mandriva still only have the Firefox 2 series in their repositories, even though Firefox 3 is almost finished and is wonderfully fast and stable. When Mandriva get around to including 3, probably after release, I may have to re-evaluate the browser situation...!)
)
WIDGETIZE