Monthly Archives: December 2003

Goodness, it’s been a while.

Goodness, it’s been a while. What have I been up to you ask? Well, the answer is: not much. Term finished so I am officially allowed to do nothing for a couple of weeks. Permission to worry more like. I went into Lahndahn tahn to meet some friends and look for cowboy boots. Unfortunately although i made my way through a swimming pool length of shelving I did not manage to find a pair that fit. Very frustrating. I then met up for a rather unpleasant tasting dinner at Busaba Eathai before heading out to drink. Two and a half pints of Strongbow later I left along with my Partner in Crime and navgated our way back to Paddington. We hopped on the next available vomit comet before evacuating the train due to impending regurgitation of dinner from said partner. I sat with him making sure he was okay and selflessly feeding him cheeseburgers, chips and coke. It was very cold and I even lent him my scarf. I am such a martyr. Vomiting did not occur thankfully and we waited an hour and a half for the next train.

I was fairly compus throughout all of this palava as I was taking care of the Partner in Crime (PiC). After being batted away again by my PiC i’d had enough and I was cold and the alcohol was getting to me. The final straw was PiC biting me rather too hard on my forearm causing much pain and making me cry. I was just stressed and kept going with the tears. PiC was feeling better by this point (no doubt due to all my chips he ate) and sort of propped me up/supported/held me until we got back home. Felt quite bad the next day, all blocked up and grim. Speaking of blockages, I am going back to get more potatoes mined from inside my head this week. I just hope they don’t put any packing in, it’s unpleasant to say the least.

I somehow found myself watching Metallica on the 20th at Earls Court. It was cool and enjoyable with the (temporary) loss of hearing associated with a good night out. It was quite strange being so close to the band. We were seated to the left of the stage and Hetfield et al would wander over to our side to play. They seemed so big. As an iconic stadium band it seemed unnatural. James did look quite good in his tight black jeans heh heh. Old eye candy. Not so old I suppose, he’s younger than Gorgeous George. I was sadly impressed by Earls Court. I’ve been past it a couple of times but never inside. It was a bit like MSG in size and had a large, airy concourse. They had good food too- even a Pizza Express. Well, it’s better than a Vomitburger TM.

Other than that, shopping for Christmas and birthday presents, making lots and lots of mess in my room. Went back up North for a week to use the facilities and got to watch some wrestling woo! One of my friends pointed out that the bet I have going about my love of wrestling is null and void as there was no independent witness to the signing. Apparently i’d have to renegotiate the terms, which somehow I don’t think is going to happen.

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What a performance tonight Should

What a performance tonight
Should I react or turn off
the light?
Looks like you’re picking
a fight
in a blurring of wrong
and right
But how your mood changes
You’re a devil, now an angel
Suddenly subtle and solemn
and silent as a monk
You only tell me you love me
when you’re drunk

It’s better than nothing,
I suppose
some doors have opened,
others closed
but I couldn’t see you exposed
to the horrors behind some
of those
Somebody said: listen
don’t you know what
you’re missing?
You should be kissing him
instead of dissing him like
a punk
But you only tell me you love
me when you’re drunk
You only tell me you love me
when you’re drunk

All of my friends keep
asking me
Why, oh, why
do you not say goodbye?
If you don’t even try
you’ll be sunk
‘Cause you only tell me you
love me when you’re drunk

What’s the meaning
when you speak with so
much feeling?
Is it over when you’re sober?
is it junk?
You only tell me you love me
when you’re drunk
You only tell me you love me
when you’re drunk

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After much faffing about with

After much faffing about with javascript i’ve managed to put my Salzburg pictures up in the Photographs section. They’re not perfect and i’ve filtered most of the bad ones out (ie Monky looking stupid) but at least you’ll have some idea of what the place was like. More info to come. I know I promised! I’ll get round to it eventually… Too busy doing nowt at moment

Edited for link removal 2007
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Salzburg Field Report: Here’s what

Salzburg Field Report: Here’s what Agent Moo got up to in Austria… (photographic evidence to follow)

Well, started out at 1am on the 28th with a Night Bus into town where the bus got held up by some men fighting in the road outside Bar Oz. This bodes well for the rest of the trip thinks I. Anyway, get the 1.34am train to Paddington where I have to humour a drunken Italian dressed in a parka who says I have nice eyes. Fun. Manage to dodge his requests for my digits and escape to the N23 bus to Liverpool St. This was an actual fun journey. It was a great tour, taking in the myriad tarts, revellers and Christmas lights of nocturnal Lahndahn. Interesting. I was beginning to feel tired even at this point but I hadn’t even got into the correct County yet. Finally got to L’pool St at around 3.30am. The station was closed and surrounded by dozing (read unconscious) men propped up on the benches and against the plate glass. After moseying around for a bit I decided to kill some time and the gnawing in my stomach with a quick trip to the Baigel Shop on Brick Lane.

Probably not the best thing to do alone in the East End at night carrying my passport, camera, phone and £100. I was hungry and needed some cheap eats, plus I was bored with my train not departing until 4.30am and there wasn’t really anywhere to sit or anything to do. All the seating was taken up by the drunk boys. Ah, drunk boys and drunk men. I think I shall have to create a new category for them alongside the Bouncy Girls. I swear, to the drunken, deprived men of the South I was like a ripe, fragrant peach to their swarming wasps. Not just in London either, Reading’s letches came out to slay. So much attention I do not think I have ever drawn. It was like navigating a minefield. I was hardly wearing provocative clothing- A hat pulled low over my eyes and my parka- but attracted they still were. Much as I would like someone to like me, Drunk Boys are not who I really want. I just wanted to blend into the flyer-strewn walls like a chameleon and slip away from their implied threats.

Maybe it’s just me and my “damaged psyche” but when the Drunk Boys yell at me, fondle me or try and chat me up I feel trapped. I don’t want them or their attentions but to get rid of them I have to be polite so they don’t get mad. I feel like if I tell them to leave me alone point blank they’ll do the offended drunken violence thing. I just smile nervously and pick up my pace. “Sorry, I’ve got places to be” or “I love someone else” “I’m messed up” or my all time fave “You’re drunk and you’re just saying that”. Classssic.

Back to the journey: I got me a slice of 60p chocolate cake and “two smoke salmon and two tuna” and walked back with my bag of goodies. Ate some on the way, got the train full of fellow zombies to Stansted. Arrived, headed for check-in. Suddenly realised that I have my Swiss Army knife on me and that they don’t allow them on the flight. I thought it was just Transatlantic flights with that stupid rule. I didn’t have any checked luggage to stash it in so the helpful Ryanair clerk suggested that I “Bin it”. I think I responded that that was fantastic. Bought me an envelope and posted that lil’ baby home (I received it this morning). Only after an absurd search for a post box that had a slot that was wide enough for the bastard thing grrr. Consequently I was late to the gate and nearly incited violence after I placed my coat on the conveyor belt and not in the box on the conveyor belt.

The security little man was being a patronising twat and he got angry with me about making that little error. I’d taken everything out of the thing like I was instructed to do so the box wasn’t needed but he decided to sigh and be rude and sarcastic. Please don’t even bother doing that to me. You’re making me angry… After Stare-off at Security Control, lumbered (ran) towards the gate where there was a big queue of people anyway. Took delight in muttering “Get a room” with some Australian gals towards two face eaters waiting lazily on the carpeted seats nearby. Got on the plane. 737-800 for you geeks. Watched Essex glitter below me like molten islands adrift on velvet and soon we were above the clouds and speeding into the sun.

The flight was uneventful. The day was bright above the clouds and grey below with the Alps poking through the cloud tops. The land below me was covered in green fields which were seemingly darker than the ones in England. It made me laugh when we touched down at 9.20am, swung into the parking space and banged the anchors in. Precision parking it was not. WA Mozart Airport was small and quiet. The weather was dry and dull and it stayed that way all day. It wasn’t as cold as I was expecting. Wandered around the airport for a while feeling weird and lost before making my way outside to catch the trolley bus into the city. Bought a ticket from the automatic machine (hurrah! no interaction) and joined the rest of the tourists and locals on the big bendy bus.

The suburbs to me seemed typically Continental with lots of immaculate flats and boxy commercial buildings. I got off at the main station and looked for the tourist information bureau from which I could buy a Salzburg Card which would pay all the entrance fees for the places I wanted to visit and my bus fares. I couldn’t find it and fucked up my question to the woman at the information window in the station with a bizarre mix of French-German. Argh, disaster. I was just nervous and even though I’d rehearsed it in my head several times I just fell on my face when I opened my mouth. So I asked in English and was told I could get it from the tourist information bureau. Which I couldn’t find. Doh. So I gave up and walked into the centre of the city.

Lots of shop windows filled with Primark/ TKMaxx type clothing; snowboarding and skating shops and beauty parlours passed me by. As I got nearer to the river that separates the Old Town from the rest of the city the shops and buildings got more interesting and colourful. The number of tourists started to climb, too. I think Salzburg can be compared to Windsor in that it is crawling with them and as it’s relatively small it can be extremely frustrating. That said, I was a tourist, but I was on my lonesome and not part of a herd following a totemic umbrella.

I first came across the Mirabell Palace. It had pretty gardens that yes, The Sound of Music was filmed in. I surveyed the scene from the top of a wall and ate my Brick Lane chocolate cake. After shooting a few photos I hopped down and went to the Dwarves Garden which is a sculpture court filled with oversized caricatures of the disabilities and vices of men as portrayed by grimacing dwarves. Walked into a skeleton maze made of autumnal trees and watched a Blackbird take a bath in the puddle at the bottom of an ornamental stone veranda. I liked watching the water running in silvery beads off it’s ruffled feathers as it puffed and preened. Sadly, some American tourists made me move and scared it away.

I walked further into town and crossed the river into the Old Town…. And there I shall have to leave it for now as my neck is beginning to complain. More tomorrow and photos soon I promise.
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