I often wonder if sometimes I should actually be trusted with money.
Showing posts with label kingston. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kingston. Show all posts
Tuesday, 18 June 2013
Saturday, 27 April 2013
Saturday, 13 April 2013
Saturday, 23 February 2013
Blogruary Day 22: The Bloc Party Gig: Part III
Another day and another gig. This time it would be the twelfth time that I would witness my favourite band, Bloc Party, perform live.
I woke up after the previous nights events tired and it took until my afternoon shower that I felt awake. I walked down to the train station to meet my friend who was coming along with me.
After a short train journey we had made it to Earls Court via a brief stop at a quaint pub where we brought ridiculously named ales such as 'Hair of the Dog'.
We soon made it inside the venue which was massive. It was easily the largest venue that I had seen Bloc Party perform in.
The support bands couldn't have been different. The first, Old Men, were awful. The second, The Joy Formidable, were fantastic.
Eventually Bloc Party came on yet I was sadly stuck near the middle of the arena. The sort of area at a gig that is populated by people who wish to be further towards the carnage and those who just want to stand and nod along.
After another impressive performance, I left content but it took a long time to get out of the venue. Trying to get 19,000 people out of one building is a difficult task at the best of times and it reached a stage that required the police to control the number of people coming in and out of the tube station.
We decided to try and walk to another station and we passed a lady who asked us whether we spoke English. We replied honestly and said yes.
She then proceeded to tell us that she had run out of gas. I didn't quite understand her story and frankly stopped listening until I heard her mention the name of a town situated near Kingston. Why would she travel all this way to get gas?
My friend stated we had no money and she quickly left.
I didn't quite understand what had gone on until my friend explained she was probably a drug-addict.
I knew that gas story was slightly weird.
I woke up after the previous nights events tired and it took until my afternoon shower that I felt awake. I walked down to the train station to meet my friend who was coming along with me.
After a short train journey we had made it to Earls Court via a brief stop at a quaint pub where we brought ridiculously named ales such as 'Hair of the Dog'.
We soon made it inside the venue which was massive. It was easily the largest venue that I had seen Bloc Party perform in.
The support bands couldn't have been different. The first, Old Men, were awful. The second, The Joy Formidable, were fantastic.
Eventually Bloc Party came on yet I was sadly stuck near the middle of the arena. The sort of area at a gig that is populated by people who wish to be further towards the carnage and those who just want to stand and nod along.
After another impressive performance, I left content but it took a long time to get out of the venue. Trying to get 19,000 people out of one building is a difficult task at the best of times and it reached a stage that required the police to control the number of people coming in and out of the tube station.
We decided to try and walk to another station and we passed a lady who asked us whether we spoke English. We replied honestly and said yes.
She then proceeded to tell us that she had run out of gas. I didn't quite understand her story and frankly stopped listening until I heard her mention the name of a town situated near Kingston. Why would she travel all this way to get gas?
My friend stated we had no money and she quickly left.
I didn't quite understand what had gone on until my friend explained she was probably a drug-addict.
I knew that gas story was slightly weird.
Sunday, 10 February 2013
Sunday, 3 February 2013
Blogruary Day 3: The Meal
I usually work on Sunday afternoons but as I ended up doing a shift yesterday night, today the world was my oyster.
Saturday, 2 February 2013
Blogruary Day 2: The Lock Up
I've noticed something worrying about my life. I don't particularly like weekends.
Friday, 25 January 2013
The Catch Up Blog
I should start off this blog with an apology, having not posted in nearly four weeks.
In that time I ushered in 2013 in a tiny, empty and run-down pub in Kingston watching the fireworks on television having not made it in time to get into a livelier, hipper pub.
The beginning of the year also saw me endure daily hour-long journeys into London to have a useful two-week work experience placement with The Sunday Times Travel Magazine. Whilst I will probably now suffer the consequences of not going to a local paper to fill my portfolio further, the opportunity to work at News International can only look good on my CV. I hope...
Since that placement finished, I have enjoyed not having to suffer a daily commute and I began what I call 'Homework Club' with my remaining friends at home. It's been a semi-productive two-weeks where the highlight has been writing 1/3rd of an essay due in for the end of May.
I've been studying my timetable for the coming term of my degree and I decided that it is best if I agree to just write off my life for the next three months. It is that busy, but I still hold out hope that this MA will be worth in in the long run.
As I realised that I perhaps didn't write enough last term, I have decided to write every day from February 1st. So in February, I will blog every single day. It will be termed 'Blogruary'.
So make sure to subscribe to the blog. I will see you in February.
In that time I ushered in 2013 in a tiny, empty and run-down pub in Kingston watching the fireworks on television having not made it in time to get into a livelier, hipper pub.
The beginning of the year also saw me endure daily hour-long journeys into London to have a useful two-week work experience placement with The Sunday Times Travel Magazine. Whilst I will probably now suffer the consequences of not going to a local paper to fill my portfolio further, the opportunity to work at News International can only look good on my CV. I hope...
Since that placement finished, I have enjoyed not having to suffer a daily commute and I began what I call 'Homework Club' with my remaining friends at home. It's been a semi-productive two-weeks where the highlight has been writing 1/3rd of an essay due in for the end of May.
I've been studying my timetable for the coming term of my degree and I decided that it is best if I agree to just write off my life for the next three months. It is that busy, but I still hold out hope that this MA will be worth in in the long run.
As I realised that I perhaps didn't write enough last term, I have decided to write every day from February 1st. So in February, I will blog every single day. It will be termed 'Blogruary'.
So make sure to subscribe to the blog. I will see you in February.
Wednesday, 5 December 2012
The Christmas Blog
Its Chrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiistmaaaaaaasssssss!
That's right. T'is the season to be jolly.
I know that it is still three weeks until Christmas but I am very much in the festive mood this year. Since the age of about 14, Christmas has become less exciting as the priorities of the day have shifted away from receiving presents.
However, this year seems to be a different kettle of fish. I attended Kingston's Christmas light switch-on for the first time in ages and I brought a hot chocolate from Starbucks the other day and it came in those lovely festive red cups.
Upon finishing university on Monday, I walked into Kingston town centre to purchase a present and card for my Dad's birthday and I decided it would be wise to begin my Christmas shopping.
I went into HMV and, after much searching, I brought Rihanna's new album for my sister. I expected the shop to be empty at 5pm but I ended up queueing for around ten minutes. And they say that we're in dire economic straits...
In addition to these exciting events, it also snowed in the UK today which really emphasised that Christmas is just around the corner.
Excitement is building, I have my MA Journalism Christmas party on Monday and a big friends of the family meal next Sunday.
Christmas should be celebrated in a jolly manner, so be merry and pleasant over the coming weeks.
Follow me on Twitter @Alex_Harris1991
That's right. T'is the season to be jolly.
I know that it is still three weeks until Christmas but I am very much in the festive mood this year. Since the age of about 14, Christmas has become less exciting as the priorities of the day have shifted away from receiving presents.
However, this year seems to be a different kettle of fish. I attended Kingston's Christmas light switch-on for the first time in ages and I brought a hot chocolate from Starbucks the other day and it came in those lovely festive red cups.
Upon finishing university on Monday, I walked into Kingston town centre to purchase a present and card for my Dad's birthday and I decided it would be wise to begin my Christmas shopping.
I went into HMV and, after much searching, I brought Rihanna's new album for my sister. I expected the shop to be empty at 5pm but I ended up queueing for around ten minutes. And they say that we're in dire economic straits...
In addition to these exciting events, it also snowed in the UK today which really emphasised that Christmas is just around the corner.
Excitement is building, I have my MA Journalism Christmas party on Monday and a big friends of the family meal next Sunday.
Christmas should be celebrated in a jolly manner, so be merry and pleasant over the coming weeks.
Follow me on Twitter @Alex_Harris1991
Friday, 2 November 2012
The Run
I'm standing in the hallway of my house and I’m putting on
my old, battered Nike trainers. I select an appropriate and energetic song on
my iPhone, pop my earphones in and then I head outside to face the full force
of this cold and crisp November day.
Today I am no ordinary student, I am student who is about to
go running through the mean streets of Kingston.
It is at this point that I should probably explain. I have
taken part in numerous sports throughout my life yet I’ve never gone jogging in
Kingston, despite the fact I used to compete for my secondary school in athletics
and cross-country events. I reasoned that it was probably time to become of
those people you see pounding the pavement.
For my debut running adventure I rationed that it was
probably wise to run a route that I was familiar with. I decided to head in the
direction of university. Despite the chilly conditions, I began jogging down my
road and through Green Lane Park. As someone who is afraid of dogs, I knew I
had made a tactical error by running through a park full of the four-legged
creatures. I plotted a course well away from any dogs and proceeded through.
During my athletics days I was always paranoid about setting
off at too quick a pace. By the time I had reached the alley-way by Berrylands
train station I began to suspect that I was sprinting. This must have made me
look slightly strange, so I eased off the pace and tried to maintain a gentle
speed.
After passing the sewage works and cemetery that have become
regular sights on my daily walk to university, I reached the houses on Lower
Marsh Lane. It was at this point that I passed a scruffy looking man carrying a
plastic bag which looked to be containing cans of Special Brew. It wasn’t even
Midday. I began to suspect that he wasn’t likely to join me in taking up
running.
After passing the man, it struck me that the Royal Borough
of Kingston is a wonderfully varied place. In the space of roughly ten minutes
I had passed through a park, past a pub, through a winding alley and jogged by
a cemetery, a Sikh temple and then a potential morning drinker.
Once this thought cleared, I had reached Villiers Road. I
was faced by an important decision, which way to go? I could either head left
taking the shorter route through Berrylands, albeit up a hill, or I could turn
right and run the lengthy distance back home via Kingston town centre.
I opted left but the hill proved one step too far. Near the
top I reached a conveniently placed bench which I proceeded to sit at for a while.
I took stock of my run and gave myself a B- for effort. My report card would
read – “Could do better but an encouraging first try.”
I walked the rest of the way home and began searching for
running apps on my phone to aid my future endeavours. It’s probably better if I
leave the selection of a route to technology next time.
Friday, 12 October 2012
The Girl With The Same Shoes
As I'm now two weeks into my new degree, I've worked out that it only takes me around twenty minutes each morning to reach campus.
During the first week of classes, I was keen to make sure I was never late. However, I was turning up too early. I was always the first one to class and this made me fairly sad as I could have had an extra twenty minutes in bed.
I decided to do my calculations and I worked out that I could leave at half past the hour and grab a tea in the cafe before learning would commence.
However on Thursday, the laissez-faire bug hit me and I was late to leave my house. In a panicked mode, I forgot to gel my hair and I'm fairly sure I was wearing only clothes that were blue.
I sprung out the house, not literally, and I marched onwards to campus. I reached my super secret alleyway cut-through, yet there was a girl in front of me who would no doubt slow my rapid progress. You see when it comes to walking, I only have one speed setting. Fast.
Wondering how I would overtake her in a fashion that would make me look not creepy, I noticed something that was becoming all to familiar. She was wearing the same shoes as me.
The reason why I say it was familiar is because I discovered only a week before that my older sister had the same trainers as me.
I realise you may now be thinking that I have a fetish for women's trainers, but I assure you that I don't. They are regular, run-of-the-mill white hi-top converse.
"If I overtake her then she will see that we are wearing the same shoes." I worriedly thought.
I assessed all the options available. Overtake her quickly. Stay behind all the way to campus. Take my shoes off and walk in my socks. Going home and changing, perhaps?
I checked my watch and noticed that I would probably make my class, just, at the pace that I was walking.
"What did you do, Alex?" is the question that I assume you are now thinking.
Well, I stayed well behind the girl all the way to campus by walking as slowly as my long legs would go.
You'll be glad to know that I made it to class just in time with my reputation still in tact.
During the first week of classes, I was keen to make sure I was never late. However, I was turning up too early. I was always the first one to class and this made me fairly sad as I could have had an extra twenty minutes in bed.
I decided to do my calculations and I worked out that I could leave at half past the hour and grab a tea in the cafe before learning would commence.
However on Thursday, the laissez-faire bug hit me and I was late to leave my house. In a panicked mode, I forgot to gel my hair and I'm fairly sure I was wearing only clothes that were blue.
I sprung out the house, not literally, and I marched onwards to campus. I reached my super secret alleyway cut-through, yet there was a girl in front of me who would no doubt slow my rapid progress. You see when it comes to walking, I only have one speed setting. Fast.
Wondering how I would overtake her in a fashion that would make me look not creepy, I noticed something that was becoming all to familiar. She was wearing the same shoes as me.
The reason why I say it was familiar is because I discovered only a week before that my older sister had the same trainers as me.
I realise you may now be thinking that I have a fetish for women's trainers, but I assure you that I don't. They are regular, run-of-the-mill white hi-top converse.
I assessed all the options available. Overtake her quickly. Stay behind all the way to campus. Take my shoes off and walk in my socks. Going home and changing, perhaps?
I checked my watch and noticed that I would probably make my class, just, at the pace that I was walking.
"What did you do, Alex?" is the question that I assume you are now thinking.
Well, I stayed well behind the girl all the way to campus by walking as slowly as my long legs would go.
You'll be glad to know that I made it to class just in time with my reputation still in tact.
Wednesday, 26 September 2012
The First Week Of My Master's Degree
It's 8:30pm on a Wednesday evening and I'm as tired as a hibernating badger. I don't think I've ever been this drained of energy.
Why? Well, I am halfway through the first week of my Journalism Master's course. In this opening week we have a quick, intensive opening module about journalistic practices.
This has involved creating a group presentation, having lectures around law and ethics, going out into Kingston and finding a news story whilst there has also been the fact that this week has involved meeting lots of new people.
It's been an interesting week and I've already slightly changed my mind about my future career direction. I've suddenly lost all interest in becoming an actual bog-standard news journalist thanks to some pretty depressing lectures about newspapers and reporting. My interest now seems to be magazines, features and online which appears to be the more fun and creative side to the industry.
I naively thought the course wouldn't be too great a challenge or too tiring but it seems like this will be a heavy, intensive year ahead.
I keep telling myself that it'll all be worth it in the long-run if I can achieve my career aims as a result but I just wish I could travel back in time and tell a younger me to take media studies and then study broadcast journalism.
However, that would have resulted in not doing things, seeing places and knowing people that I have had the luck to meet.
Why? Well, I am halfway through the first week of my Journalism Master's course. In this opening week we have a quick, intensive opening module about journalistic practices.
This has involved creating a group presentation, having lectures around law and ethics, going out into Kingston and finding a news story whilst there has also been the fact that this week has involved meeting lots of new people.
It's been an interesting week and I've already slightly changed my mind about my future career direction. I've suddenly lost all interest in becoming an actual bog-standard news journalist thanks to some pretty depressing lectures about newspapers and reporting. My interest now seems to be magazines, features and online which appears to be the more fun and creative side to the industry.
I naively thought the course wouldn't be too great a challenge or too tiring but it seems like this will be a heavy, intensive year ahead.
I keep telling myself that it'll all be worth it in the long-run if I can achieve my career aims as a result but I just wish I could travel back in time and tell a younger me to take media studies and then study broadcast journalism.
However, that would have resulted in not doing things, seeing places and knowing people that I have had the luck to meet.
Sunday, 27 May 2012
The Epiphany
I write this post at home in Kingston-upon-Thames having left university yesterday.
Sure, I am going back for results day, summer ball and graduation but having packed away the vast majority of my stuff and then saying goodbye to my house-mate, Nick, who I won't see for a few weeks, it felt like the end-of-an-era.
I now have an entire summer to re-focus my life and orientate myself back to life at home. I always thought that by doing my Master's that I'd be happy. Don't get me wrong, I really am looking forward to the course and I would love to write for a living but doubts are beginning to creep.
It all boils down to money.
In the short-term, journalism doesn't pay well. I can look forward to a starting salary of £15,000 which quite frankly isn't very good. This means that I will be living with my parents for at least two to three years. After three years of living away from home, I'm not sure I will enjoy living back at home for an extended period.
In the long-term, I want to live the dream. I want a big house and land in a nice village somewhere in the country. I want to have friendly, middle-class neighbours who I will go to the local pub for a few drinks with. The looming question is whether journalism would fund that? It is possible but I'd need a lot of luck and skill.
This has led me to an epiphany though. I really need to go after opportunities and succeed. Basically, I need to try harder.
YOLO, right?
Sure, I am going back for results day, summer ball and graduation but having packed away the vast majority of my stuff and then saying goodbye to my house-mate, Nick, who I won't see for a few weeks, it felt like the end-of-an-era.
I now have an entire summer to re-focus my life and orientate myself back to life at home. I always thought that by doing my Master's that I'd be happy. Don't get me wrong, I really am looking forward to the course and I would love to write for a living but doubts are beginning to creep.
It all boils down to money.
In the short-term, journalism doesn't pay well. I can look forward to a starting salary of £15,000 which quite frankly isn't very good. This means that I will be living with my parents for at least two to three years. After three years of living away from home, I'm not sure I will enjoy living back at home for an extended period.
In the long-term, I want to live the dream. I want a big house and land in a nice village somewhere in the country. I want to have friendly, middle-class neighbours who I will go to the local pub for a few drinks with. The looming question is whether journalism would fund that? It is possible but I'd need a lot of luck and skill.
This has led me to an epiphany though. I really need to go after opportunities and succeed. Basically, I need to try harder.
YOLO, right?
Thursday, 19 April 2012
The Good E-Mail
As I'm in the final year of my university degree, I have to submit what is basically a very large essay called a dissertation. It is 10000 words to be precise, and in my opinion that is 10000 words too many.
Despite this week being the last of my Easter vacation, I decided to head back to university for most of the week to finish off this very large essay. One reason why I rationed that this was a sensible decision was that I'll be spending at least the next year studying a Masters at my home town university, so spending some of my precious, remaining time at university was wise.
There was one sticking point though towards this though. My place on the Masters course wasn't guaranteed as I needed a 2:1 grade in my current undergraduate degree. At least, I thought I did.
Once back in Reading, I got cracking on my dissertation and undertook the tasks that needed to be completed such as finishing off the writing process, editing the words, cutting out the filler and referencing.
I had sent off an e-mail the previous day to the administrator for the Masters course asking about fees and my offer to study there.
It was 5PM and I noticed her reply sitting in my inbox waiting to be read. I scanned the text and then noticed some key words that made me oh-so-happy, they were giving me "an unconditional offer".
I couldn't believe it. I think my heart actually stopped for a second. I was whooped in delight which is something that I don't do very often.
I could suddenly feel the stress leave my body. No matter what my undergraduate degree result, I would be on my Masters course come September to study Journalism.
Suddenly feeling relaxed, I halted my dissertation work and decided to watch Pointless whilst I went and brought myself a celebratory hot chocolate.
It is only honest of me to say that life feels so much better and it is so very nice to be able to start planning for the future.
Sunday, 15 April 2012
The Trip To Thorpe Park
It is a Thursday morning and I wake up worse for wear. You see, the previous night my friend and I organised a secondary school reunion event down our local pub. The turnout was surprisingly decent and as is the case with meeting people that you haven't seen in a long time, you drink a lot to avoid the awkward sober chat.
It is 8:45AM and I am due to go to Thorpe Park in about fifteen minutes. The last thing that I want to do in my hungover state is sit on roller-coasters all day.
I manage to drag myself out of bed, have a shower and then meet my friend, Alex, where we travel to Phil's house.
We arrive to see that no-one is ready to go. Phil is still trying to print out vouchers whilst his university friend, Sara, is still drinking a cup of tea. I will later learn that Sara is an avid tea fan which is so quintessentially English.
Alex and I try to help Phil print out his vouchers only to be distracted by the oh-so-brilliantly titled book The Rape of Tutankhamun. Phil has always said that this is his dad's book, but I am still convinced that it is his. I've always suspected him of having a fetish for Egyptian Pharaohs.
Whilst Phil and Alex continued to try and print out the vouchers, I joined Sara downstairs with Phil's mum where she regaled us with tales of her former career in the aviation industry. Here's a fun fact that I learnt, there used to be a helicopter service between Heathrow and Gatwick Airport. Don't let people tell you this blog isn't full of interesting facts to share down the pub.
We eventually got ready and set off to Thorpe Park. Midway through the car journey, I decided to check my e-mails.
"Oh my God! Bloc Party have just announced a new tour and tickets are on sale now!" I announced to the entire car.
I set about buying the tickets on my phone and luckily I managed to purchase them. It has been two and a half years since the last Bloc Party gig, so I was allowed to be a bit excited.
We reached Thorpe Park and met up with Phil's other friend from university, the brilliantly named James Brown. Before you start wondering, no it isn't the dead soul singer. He's dead as I just said so it'd be weird if he came back to life and befriended a twenty year old from Kingston-upon-Thames.
We went on as many rides as possible and it turns out that going on roller-coasters is very tiring. It reached 6PM and with Phil's mum due to pick us up at 6:30, we decided that there probably wasn't time to go on the new ride The Swarm due to time constraints.
We vacated the park and waited for the pick up only for Phil's mum to call at 6:30 and say that there had been a crash on the A3 and that she'd be a while.
We waited patiently and entertained ourselves. We played hop-scotch, rock-paper-scissors and had a hopping race and then finally Phil's mum called at 7:30 to say that she hadn't moved any further due to the traffic and that we should make our own way home.
Now any avid reader of this blog will know that Thursday night is quiz night and we only had an hour to make it. We decided that a taxi was the best mode of transport and luckily one drove straight towards us. We asked him the price to Berrylands and he didn't know where the place was. It was hardly like we were asking to be dropped off at the Kuiper Belt. He informed us that he could only drive locally due to the fact he was attending a wedding reception yet he decided to tease us by keeping the car right next to us by jolting forward by an inch every minute. It was quite odd.
We finally found a cab that could take us home and after a £30 journey we made it to the pub in time for the quiz. A heated moment occurred where I made a bet of a kick in the balls over a question which myself and Alex disagreed on.
Overall, I spent around £100 during the day and was as tired as an old lady but I still have yet to receive the kick in the balls so I guess the day was a resounding success.
It is 8:45AM and I am due to go to Thorpe Park in about fifteen minutes. The last thing that I want to do in my hungover state is sit on roller-coasters all day.
I manage to drag myself out of bed, have a shower and then meet my friend, Alex, where we travel to Phil's house.
We arrive to see that no-one is ready to go. Phil is still trying to print out vouchers whilst his university friend, Sara, is still drinking a cup of tea. I will later learn that Sara is an avid tea fan which is so quintessentially English.
Alex and I try to help Phil print out his vouchers only to be distracted by the oh-so-brilliantly titled book The Rape of Tutankhamun. Phil has always said that this is his dad's book, but I am still convinced that it is his. I've always suspected him of having a fetish for Egyptian Pharaohs.
Whilst Phil and Alex continued to try and print out the vouchers, I joined Sara downstairs with Phil's mum where she regaled us with tales of her former career in the aviation industry. Here's a fun fact that I learnt, there used to be a helicopter service between Heathrow and Gatwick Airport. Don't let people tell you this blog isn't full of interesting facts to share down the pub.
We eventually got ready and set off to Thorpe Park. Midway through the car journey, I decided to check my e-mails.
"Oh my God! Bloc Party have just announced a new tour and tickets are on sale now!" I announced to the entire car.
I set about buying the tickets on my phone and luckily I managed to purchase them. It has been two and a half years since the last Bloc Party gig, so I was allowed to be a bit excited.
We reached Thorpe Park and met up with Phil's other friend from university, the brilliantly named James Brown. Before you start wondering, no it isn't the dead soul singer. He's dead as I just said so it'd be weird if he came back to life and befriended a twenty year old from Kingston-upon-Thames.
We went on as many rides as possible and it turns out that going on roller-coasters is very tiring. It reached 6PM and with Phil's mum due to pick us up at 6:30, we decided that there probably wasn't time to go on the new ride The Swarm due to time constraints.
We vacated the park and waited for the pick up only for Phil's mum to call at 6:30 and say that there had been a crash on the A3 and that she'd be a while.
We waited patiently and entertained ourselves. We played hop-scotch, rock-paper-scissors and had a hopping race and then finally Phil's mum called at 7:30 to say that she hadn't moved any further due to the traffic and that we should make our own way home.
Now any avid reader of this blog will know that Thursday night is quiz night and we only had an hour to make it. We decided that a taxi was the best mode of transport and luckily one drove straight towards us. We asked him the price to Berrylands and he didn't know where the place was. It was hardly like we were asking to be dropped off at the Kuiper Belt. He informed us that he could only drive locally due to the fact he was attending a wedding reception yet he decided to tease us by keeping the car right next to us by jolting forward by an inch every minute. It was quite odd.
We finally found a cab that could take us home and after a £30 journey we made it to the pub in time for the quiz. A heated moment occurred where I made a bet of a kick in the balls over a question which myself and Alex disagreed on.
Overall, I spent around £100 during the day and was as tired as an old lady but I still have yet to receive the kick in the balls so I guess the day was a resounding success.
Tuesday, 10 April 2012
The Blog With 30 Facts About Me
It occurred to me last night, whilst laying in bed, that you don't know too much about me. Sure you can see my little profile picture, you can read the description caption whilst I give you little snippets about my life, but surely it'll be more fun for you to read my blog if you knew more about me.
So, here's a chronological list of facts about me ranging the interesting to the bizarre.
1) I live in Kingston-upon-Thames with my parents and two sisters.
2) I go to Reading University where I study Politics and International Relations.
3) I am 6ft 1" tall.
4) I am right-handed.
5) I did A Levels in Business Studies, English Literature and Sociology.
6) I watch a lot of television. My favourite shows are: Eastenders, Doctor Who and Made in Chelsea.
7) Politically, I support the Liberal Democrats... still.
8) I support Fulham FC.
9) My favourite Fulham player is Clint Dempsey.
10) I love music. My favourite bands/artists are: Bloc Party, We Are Scientists, Get People and Marina and the Diamonds.
11) I do love chart music as well. I am quite embarrassed to admit that I love this weeks #1 song, Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen.
12) I am going to study for a Masters degree in Journalism starting in September.
13) I love steak. Hence, I could never be vegetarian.
14) Coca-Cola is the greatest drink ever, in my opinion.
15) I'd love to be a writer in the future. If I could, then it'd be a dream to write Danny Wallace-style books.
16) I played Ultimate Frisbee for about 8 weeks at university. In a surprising turn of events, I found out that it's a really tough sport.
17) My favourite colour is red.
18) My favourite clothing brands are: Hollister, Topman and Superdry. You can call me a douche for that.
19) My favourite film of all time is Hotel Rwanda. I also love Cool Runnings and the Mr Bean movie.
20) I love XFM. It's a great radio station.
21) I think BBC3 is a criminally underrated TV channel.
22) I just spelt underrated wrong and had to correct it. I'm not as clever as I think.
23) I'd love to go travelling. So far, I've only been to Ireland, France, Spain, Portugal, Belgium and Cyprus.
24) I think a pub quiz is the greatest thing ever.
25) I really want to live in Brighton at some point in my life.
26) My mobile phone is an iPhone 4S.
27) I have a really small bedroom. It is literally about the width and length of Peter Crouch.
28) I once broke my arm in a drunken incident. I ended up requiring surgery which was a fun experience.
29) I am going to turn 21 soon. It frightens me how old I am getting.
30) I apparently can't think of any more facts about myself.
Thanks for reading and please follow/subscribe my blog. It really would mean a lot to me.
Follow me on Twitter @Alex_Harris1991
I've also started my own YouTube channel, why not subscribe?
So, here's a chronological list of facts about me ranging the interesting to the bizarre.
1) I live in Kingston-upon-Thames with my parents and two sisters.
2) I go to Reading University where I study Politics and International Relations.
3) I am 6ft 1" tall.
4) I am right-handed.
5) I did A Levels in Business Studies, English Literature and Sociology.
6) I watch a lot of television. My favourite shows are: Eastenders, Doctor Who and Made in Chelsea.
7) Politically, I support the Liberal Democrats... still.
8) I support Fulham FC.
9) My favourite Fulham player is Clint Dempsey.
10) I love music. My favourite bands/artists are: Bloc Party, We Are Scientists, Get People and Marina and the Diamonds.
11) I do love chart music as well. I am quite embarrassed to admit that I love this weeks #1 song, Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen.
12) I am going to study for a Masters degree in Journalism starting in September.
13) I love steak. Hence, I could never be vegetarian.
14) Coca-Cola is the greatest drink ever, in my opinion.
15) I'd love to be a writer in the future. If I could, then it'd be a dream to write Danny Wallace-style books.
16) I played Ultimate Frisbee for about 8 weeks at university. In a surprising turn of events, I found out that it's a really tough sport.
17) My favourite colour is red.
18) My favourite clothing brands are: Hollister, Topman and Superdry. You can call me a douche for that.
19) My favourite film of all time is Hotel Rwanda. I also love Cool Runnings and the Mr Bean movie.
20) I love XFM. It's a great radio station.
21) I think BBC3 is a criminally underrated TV channel.
22) I just spelt underrated wrong and had to correct it. I'm not as clever as I think.
23) I'd love to go travelling. So far, I've only been to Ireland, France, Spain, Portugal, Belgium and Cyprus.
24) I think a pub quiz is the greatest thing ever.
25) I really want to live in Brighton at some point in my life.
26) My mobile phone is an iPhone 4S.
27) I have a really small bedroom. It is literally about the width and length of Peter Crouch.
28) I once broke my arm in a drunken incident. I ended up requiring surgery which was a fun experience.
29) I am going to turn 21 soon. It frightens me how old I am getting.
30) I apparently can't think of any more facts about myself.
Thanks for reading and please follow/subscribe my blog. It really would mean a lot to me.
Follow me on Twitter @Alex_Harris1991
I've also started my own YouTube channel, why not subscribe?
Wednesday, 4 January 2012
The Monday Night Out
I started Monday night as I start every night out. I was late.
Generally, I am someone who is always on time in life. Lectures? I'm there on time. Seminars? I'll turn up with minutes to spare. A meeting with Miranda Kerr? Hell, I'd be so early she would consider me slightly strange. However, I am always late whenever I meet up with my friends. I always like to have a shower when I go out, but I think I just get carried away listening to music and singing along in the shower.
I did eventually turn up where I found my friend Alex and his mum in her car. I realise I have potentially phrased this badly, but in case you are wondering, she didn't come out with us. That would be a bit strange. No, she gave us a lift into Kingston where we went to The King's Tun, possibly the worst Wetherspoons pub this side of Europe. There, we met up with a lot of friends and there was a suprise in store for us.
Laith.
Yes, Laith. That guy. He was someone who was in all my classes at secondary school. I don't think any of us had seen him for at least three years but he was in the same pub as us. He joined us and after much chat, he and his friend left. If I hadn't known him, I would have suspected they were on a gay date (gate) but they weren't.
Anyway, we soon moved onto the drinking games. I don't particularly like drinking games because they are a bit last year but we played Who Is Most Likely To...? We played, we laughed and we drank.
In this state of relative tipsyness we moved on to Bacchus. Now, Bacchus is a bit like Stockport. It's small, horrible and it smells. However, they were playing 50's and 60's music and they played a recent pop song which seemed a bit out of place. I don't like 50's and 60's music so I drank and I drank. For some reason, I suddenly started enjoying the club but I can't quite figure out why that was...
Anyway, the end soon approached and our group of friends started a circle on the dancefloor as that classic Beatles song came on. My knowledge of The Beatles is limited so I can't quite name the song. Sorry about that. Soon, everyone in the club was joining us in the circle and by the end of the song the entire club was all in a big circle. We are trend-setters after all.
We trudged home in the search for food but that search would prove elusive. McDonalds was shut, so was SFC and there was no sign of Burger Box. It suddenly started pouring down with rain and to make matters worse I had to walk back all the way from the edge of Tolworth to my house all on my own. A wet end to the night.
No, not in that way.
Generally, I am someone who is always on time in life. Lectures? I'm there on time. Seminars? I'll turn up with minutes to spare. A meeting with Miranda Kerr? Hell, I'd be so early she would consider me slightly strange. However, I am always late whenever I meet up with my friends. I always like to have a shower when I go out, but I think I just get carried away listening to music and singing along in the shower.
I did eventually turn up where I found my friend Alex and his mum in her car. I realise I have potentially phrased this badly, but in case you are wondering, she didn't come out with us. That would be a bit strange. No, she gave us a lift into Kingston where we went to The King's Tun, possibly the worst Wetherspoons pub this side of Europe. There, we met up with a lot of friends and there was a suprise in store for us.
Laith.
Yes, Laith. That guy. He was someone who was in all my classes at secondary school. I don't think any of us had seen him for at least three years but he was in the same pub as us. He joined us and after much chat, he and his friend left. If I hadn't known him, I would have suspected they were on a gay date (gate) but they weren't.
Anyway, we soon moved onto the drinking games. I don't particularly like drinking games because they are a bit last year but we played Who Is Most Likely To...? We played, we laughed and we drank.
In this state of relative tipsyness we moved on to Bacchus. Now, Bacchus is a bit like Stockport. It's small, horrible and it smells. However, they were playing 50's and 60's music and they played a recent pop song which seemed a bit out of place. I don't like 50's and 60's music so I drank and I drank. For some reason, I suddenly started enjoying the club but I can't quite figure out why that was...
Anyway, the end soon approached and our group of friends started a circle on the dancefloor as that classic Beatles song came on. My knowledge of The Beatles is limited so I can't quite name the song. Sorry about that. Soon, everyone in the club was joining us in the circle and by the end of the song the entire club was all in a big circle. We are trend-setters after all.
We trudged home in the search for food but that search would prove elusive. McDonalds was shut, so was SFC and there was no sign of Burger Box. It suddenly started pouring down with rain and to make matters worse I had to walk back all the way from the edge of Tolworth to my house all on my own. A wet end to the night.
No, not in that way.
Friday, 23 September 2011
The German Girl
Michael, Alex and I have just walked back into the pub that we had only just left 30 seconds earlier. We have just recieved notice from Becky that she and a couple of her friends were on their way to the pub that we had just walked out of. So, as I said, we headed straight back in.
We had been on a pub crawl starting in Berrylands, passing through the Coronation Hall in Surbiton and then we found our way to the King's Tun in Kingston. We had a great booth in the pub and had just dusted off a jug of Blue Lagoon and Cheeky V between us, yet by the time we walked back in there was suddenly limited seating and we had to settle for a window table. A very cramped window table, in fact.
Eventually, Becky, Tina and a German friend of Becky's called Sophia joined us. Tina had to leave almost straight away, so we were soon down to the five of us. Suddenly, I was left with Sophia. Becky and Alex had gone to the bar, whilst Michael decided that now was an appropriate time to go to the loo. I decided to put Sophia at ease with a fantastic conversation starter, "Don't worry, I won't make any jokes about the war". On reflection, that doesn't seem to be the best line I could have opened with.
I then went through the usual pleasentries you exchange with a new person. I found out she was from Cologne, I still think that is a strange name for a city. Well, at least it must smell nice. I discovered she knew Becky threw a relation to her knowing Becky's mum. She was on a gap year before starting University. I learnt that she liked Angela Merkel. I even had a brief conversation on German football, detailing all from Lukas Podolski to Borrusia Dortmund.
Michael soon returned and after he and Sophia ran through a pretty similar conversation we had just had. The fool. Sophia must have felt he was a mere copy of myself and that he took all his conversational wizardry from myself. I then managed to make my next blunder though.
"So, was the ball over the line then in the World Cup final?" Why had I just asked this. It is well known that the Germans are still sore over that goal. She responded by saying that "Yeah, I don't think the ball was over the line". I then went to Michael for his thoughts on this historical classic, yet I'm not sure he quite knew what goal we were talking about though in his English pride, he felt that the ball was over the line.
I decided it was probably best to quieten down a bit. Yet, I ignored the rational part of my brain and decided to try and speak German. Now, I studied German all the way from Year 7 to Year 11 at school and I was good at it. Very good, in fact. I gained an A Grade at GCSE level. Quite the achievement I'll have you know. It's been a long time, however, since I last had a conversation in German and I was unsuprisingly terrible. Sophia must have thought I was mocking her even more. This really was going badly.
The table conversation soon moved onto music after Michael brought up the fact that I had asked Sophia whether they have "Western music in Germany?" Everyone laughed. I cringed. Why had I said that? I then remembered the quite terrible band I had listened to in a German lesson many moons ago. They are called Wir Sind Helden and I spoke in such depth about them that I get the feeling I may have come across as Wir Sind Helden's number one fanboy.
Soon Michael corrected my grammar. This brought out an almost instinctive reaction in me that I really shouldn't have said. "Grammar Nazi!" I fired back at Michael. Oh God. I just said the N-word in front of a German person. Had she heard? Well, I didn't exactly matter as I was cringing. Then I managed to make things worse. Much worse.
Now, the day before, a friend of ours did a Nazi salute in a pub. I don't think he quite understood what he was doing and he was most certainly joking. I know for a fact that he is joking because I have not seen an ounce of Nazi paraphernalia in his house. However, I seemed to think that Sophia would see this a witty, hilarious anecdote that she would tell all her friends back in Germany. She seemed shocked. I'm pretty sure I even heard gasps around the table. She uttered back, in a broken tone, "Oh...OK..."
She soon went home when we left the pub for another venue and Alex told me that I had come across as a Nazi sympathiser. I would like to stress that I am not though. I have quite a dislike for what they did and stood for. Plus, Hitler isn't exactly my favourite historical figure.
The next day after completing the pub quiz, we all went to McDonalds to get some food. Becky, Sophia and Alex remained in the car whilst Michael and I went instore to order. As we only had an order from Becky for a cheeseburger, I decided to pick up a few. I hastily paid. We offered Sophia a cheeseburger and she accepted. She went to get her £1 to reimburse my slightly worse off wallet, however, I declined her pound and told her "Don't worry" about paying.
Hopefully that cheeseburger will have slightly improved Anglo-Germanic relations.
We had been on a pub crawl starting in Berrylands, passing through the Coronation Hall in Surbiton and then we found our way to the King's Tun in Kingston. We had a great booth in the pub and had just dusted off a jug of Blue Lagoon and Cheeky V between us, yet by the time we walked back in there was suddenly limited seating and we had to settle for a window table. A very cramped window table, in fact.
Eventually, Becky, Tina and a German friend of Becky's called Sophia joined us. Tina had to leave almost straight away, so we were soon down to the five of us. Suddenly, I was left with Sophia. Becky and Alex had gone to the bar, whilst Michael decided that now was an appropriate time to go to the loo. I decided to put Sophia at ease with a fantastic conversation starter, "Don't worry, I won't make any jokes about the war". On reflection, that doesn't seem to be the best line I could have opened with.
I then went through the usual pleasentries you exchange with a new person. I found out she was from Cologne, I still think that is a strange name for a city. Well, at least it must smell nice. I discovered she knew Becky threw a relation to her knowing Becky's mum. She was on a gap year before starting University. I learnt that she liked Angela Merkel. I even had a brief conversation on German football, detailing all from Lukas Podolski to Borrusia Dortmund.
Michael soon returned and after he and Sophia ran through a pretty similar conversation we had just had. The fool. Sophia must have felt he was a mere copy of myself and that he took all his conversational wizardry from myself. I then managed to make my next blunder though.
"So, was the ball over the line then in the World Cup final?" Why had I just asked this. It is well known that the Germans are still sore over that goal. She responded by saying that "Yeah, I don't think the ball was over the line". I then went to Michael for his thoughts on this historical classic, yet I'm not sure he quite knew what goal we were talking about though in his English pride, he felt that the ball was over the line.
I decided it was probably best to quieten down a bit. Yet, I ignored the rational part of my brain and decided to try and speak German. Now, I studied German all the way from Year 7 to Year 11 at school and I was good at it. Very good, in fact. I gained an A Grade at GCSE level. Quite the achievement I'll have you know. It's been a long time, however, since I last had a conversation in German and I was unsuprisingly terrible. Sophia must have thought I was mocking her even more. This really was going badly.
The table conversation soon moved onto music after Michael brought up the fact that I had asked Sophia whether they have "Western music in Germany?" Everyone laughed. I cringed. Why had I said that? I then remembered the quite terrible band I had listened to in a German lesson many moons ago. They are called Wir Sind Helden and I spoke in such depth about them that I get the feeling I may have come across as Wir Sind Helden's number one fanboy.
Soon Michael corrected my grammar. This brought out an almost instinctive reaction in me that I really shouldn't have said. "Grammar Nazi!" I fired back at Michael. Oh God. I just said the N-word in front of a German person. Had she heard? Well, I didn't exactly matter as I was cringing. Then I managed to make things worse. Much worse.
Now, the day before, a friend of ours did a Nazi salute in a pub. I don't think he quite understood what he was doing and he was most certainly joking. I know for a fact that he is joking because I have not seen an ounce of Nazi paraphernalia in his house. However, I seemed to think that Sophia would see this a witty, hilarious anecdote that she would tell all her friends back in Germany. She seemed shocked. I'm pretty sure I even heard gasps around the table. She uttered back, in a broken tone, "Oh...OK..."
She soon went home when we left the pub for another venue and Alex told me that I had come across as a Nazi sympathiser. I would like to stress that I am not though. I have quite a dislike for what they did and stood for. Plus, Hitler isn't exactly my favourite historical figure.
The next day after completing the pub quiz, we all went to McDonalds to get some food. Becky, Sophia and Alex remained in the car whilst Michael and I went instore to order. As we only had an order from Becky for a cheeseburger, I decided to pick up a few. I hastily paid. We offered Sophia a cheeseburger and she accepted. She went to get her £1 to reimburse my slightly worse off wallet, however, I declined her pound and told her "Don't worry" about paying.
Hopefully that cheeseburger will have slightly improved Anglo-Germanic relations.
Sunday, 18 September 2011
The Charity Case
It's 3:30PM on a balmy Friday afternoon. Philip and I are in Kingston for our second time today. Now before you ask why, I will say that we aren't wildly in love with our hometown. No, you see we are here to film for our debut video for our YouTube channel.
We reach the section of the High Street by the Bentalls Centre and then we are approached by a man in a blue top. I could tell he was one of those people who pound the streets trying to get citizens to give money to charity. I had two reasons to believe this. First, I have previously been lured in by these people and ended up giving money to a charity. Second, he was wearing a Battersea Dogs and Cats Home T-shirt and he was holding a clip board.
"Oh wow cool camera" said the man, who we got to quickly know as Waleed. I could tell he was good at his job. His opening gambit was impressive. Philip was drawn in by this conversation wizard, the fool. Philip and Waleed then proceeded to discuss cameras and the fact Philip wanted to be a film director despite the fact he is studying geography at University. Waleed certainly had his game face on. He had struck quickly and found Philip to be easy prey. Someone he felt he could get to sign up to charity, quite possibly because he was walking around a Greater London borough with a video camera nonchalantly in hand.
Waleed then posed a question that rapidly drew the conversation round to his advantage. "Do either of you like dogs or cats?" This was a tricky situation. It would appear rude to say I hated dogs and cats in front of someone on behalf of the premiere dog and cat charity in the country, yet I didn't want to lie to Waleed. I responded with a casual "I only like declawed cats". As I said, casual. Philip though said he prefered cats, he clearly felt it important to appeal to Waleed's cat side, even though Waleed told us straight after that he wasn't exactly a fan of either even though he had a dog. At least I had offered a semi-humorous response.
When Waleed went in for the kill to see if either of us would pay £2.10 a week to help the charity, I instantly went on the defensive. "I don't think I'd be able to afford it as I already give £5 a month to Unicef", plus let's be honest, £2.10 is the price of a pint of lager. As a student, I need to think about my lager based finance before agreeing to fund the Battersea Dogs and Cats Home. Waleed then turned to Philip to see if he would stump up the noble fund in the name of innocent dogs and cats around the country.
It was at this point that I knew Philip wouldn't stump up the cash yet I felt it best to help Waleed. At the age of 18, he was already the Head of Direct Marketing. He had already achieved adulthood despite being two years younger than me. Philip then feigned a phone call, yet the minute that had ended we both decided to work on Philip to get him to save the Battersea Dogs and Cats Home. It's not often a man can say he saved an age old charity and pilar of British life. Yet Philip didn't seem to want to take up this opportunity.
He posited to Waleed that he didn't want to give out his card details to a man in the street. This is a relatively sound point, yet Waleed assured Philip that the information he needed was still not enough for anyone bar a registered charity to break into his account. This didn't seem to convince my friend though. Then, within a flash, our friend David had turned up and it soon began to become a 3 on 1 situation. Waleed, David and I were all ganging up on Philip to get him to donate to charity.
Philip, however, reiterated his paranoia in having his credit card hacked into by giving out his details on the street despite the fact it is far more risky to give out your details on the internet in order to purchase products. He still wouldn't hand over the two small details that could allow the charity to take a weekly £2.10 from his account, two details that wouldn't be enough for Joe Bloggs to hack into his account. I assured Philip that I had given out my details on the street to Unicef before and that all was fine. He still woudn't pass over his details though.
After much discussion and probably wasting Waleed's precious time, we walked away. We had failed. Philip didn't buckle under the pressure and refused to give to charity. As much as it dissapointed me that he didn't want to give to charity, I could only admire his sheer stubborn quality in sticking to his guns. I guess you can call that an adult quality.
We then went back to Philip's house to edit our video and it was then that Philip offered us a more startling revelation. He told us his Dad didn't trust wireless internet because "anyone can hack in" despite the fact that you can security protect your network by using a password.
Suddenly, his worry that his credit card could be accessed illegally by someone due to giving out just two details to a licensed charity worker seemed a hell of a lot more sane and a lot less paranoid.
We reach the section of the High Street by the Bentalls Centre and then we are approached by a man in a blue top. I could tell he was one of those people who pound the streets trying to get citizens to give money to charity. I had two reasons to believe this. First, I have previously been lured in by these people and ended up giving money to a charity. Second, he was wearing a Battersea Dogs and Cats Home T-shirt and he was holding a clip board.
"Oh wow cool camera" said the man, who we got to quickly know as Waleed. I could tell he was good at his job. His opening gambit was impressive. Philip was drawn in by this conversation wizard, the fool. Philip and Waleed then proceeded to discuss cameras and the fact Philip wanted to be a film director despite the fact he is studying geography at University. Waleed certainly had his game face on. He had struck quickly and found Philip to be easy prey. Someone he felt he could get to sign up to charity, quite possibly because he was walking around a Greater London borough with a video camera nonchalantly in hand.
Waleed then posed a question that rapidly drew the conversation round to his advantage. "Do either of you like dogs or cats?" This was a tricky situation. It would appear rude to say I hated dogs and cats in front of someone on behalf of the premiere dog and cat charity in the country, yet I didn't want to lie to Waleed. I responded with a casual "I only like declawed cats". As I said, casual. Philip though said he prefered cats, he clearly felt it important to appeal to Waleed's cat side, even though Waleed told us straight after that he wasn't exactly a fan of either even though he had a dog. At least I had offered a semi-humorous response.
When Waleed went in for the kill to see if either of us would pay £2.10 a week to help the charity, I instantly went on the defensive. "I don't think I'd be able to afford it as I already give £5 a month to Unicef", plus let's be honest, £2.10 is the price of a pint of lager. As a student, I need to think about my lager based finance before agreeing to fund the Battersea Dogs and Cats Home. Waleed then turned to Philip to see if he would stump up the noble fund in the name of innocent dogs and cats around the country.
It was at this point that I knew Philip wouldn't stump up the cash yet I felt it best to help Waleed. At the age of 18, he was already the Head of Direct Marketing. He had already achieved adulthood despite being two years younger than me. Philip then feigned a phone call, yet the minute that had ended we both decided to work on Philip to get him to save the Battersea Dogs and Cats Home. It's not often a man can say he saved an age old charity and pilar of British life. Yet Philip didn't seem to want to take up this opportunity.
He posited to Waleed that he didn't want to give out his card details to a man in the street. This is a relatively sound point, yet Waleed assured Philip that the information he needed was still not enough for anyone bar a registered charity to break into his account. This didn't seem to convince my friend though. Then, within a flash, our friend David had turned up and it soon began to become a 3 on 1 situation. Waleed, David and I were all ganging up on Philip to get him to donate to charity.
Philip, however, reiterated his paranoia in having his credit card hacked into by giving out his details on the street despite the fact it is far more risky to give out your details on the internet in order to purchase products. He still wouldn't hand over the two small details that could allow the charity to take a weekly £2.10 from his account, two details that wouldn't be enough for Joe Bloggs to hack into his account. I assured Philip that I had given out my details on the street to Unicef before and that all was fine. He still woudn't pass over his details though.
After much discussion and probably wasting Waleed's precious time, we walked away. We had failed. Philip didn't buckle under the pressure and refused to give to charity. As much as it dissapointed me that he didn't want to give to charity, I could only admire his sheer stubborn quality in sticking to his guns. I guess you can call that an adult quality.
We then went back to Philip's house to edit our video and it was then that Philip offered us a more startling revelation. He told us his Dad didn't trust wireless internet because "anyone can hack in" despite the fact that you can security protect your network by using a password.
Suddenly, his worry that his credit card could be accessed illegally by someone due to giving out just two details to a licensed charity worker seemed a hell of a lot more sane and a lot less paranoid.
Sunday, 4 September 2011
The World of Topshop
It's a typical Saturday morning. I'm sitting in my chair, reading The Sun, watching Soccer AM and eating my breakfast. Multi-tasking at its finest, I think you'll agree. I had my phone on charge up in my bedroom and I went upstairs to go to the loo. I thought I may as well check my phone to see if it has charged. It had. Success. An early morning task completed.
I noticed I had recieved a text. A text inviting me somewhere. It was from my friend Alex. It read, 'Do you want to come to town to meet me becky and rice at like 1 to 1:30 ish??'. As any good friend and reader of the classic Danny Wallace book Yes Man, I decided I only had one answer. Yes.
Now, here's an interesting sub-plot. It's also my parent's anniversary. Their 28th to be precise. My sisters weren't in at this time and weren't coming back all day so my parent's weren't exactly dissapointed I was going out. If you can read between the lines, that is a sentance I never wished to write.
So I had arranged to meet Alex by the roundabout. It's a well known place in Berrylands. It's almost as renowned as the pub. However, he was late. His mum was giving us a lift into Kingston, yet an apparent trip to petrol station was taking longer than expected.
I had been sitting, waiting for an age and then some lady proved that women drivers are in fact rubbish. Of all the parking places, she decided to park right by where I was sitting. The cheek. How dare this lady play mind games with me? How dare she take over my land? I thought I should stay strong and remain where I was. I had to win the battle of minds for men all over the world united against women drivers. I got up and called my friend. He informed me he was nearly here. I had lost the battle of the wills against the lady. She walked off to the park knowing she had won.
Suddenly, a massive group of OAP cyclists flocked through the park and round the roundabout. I had never seen such a thing. This day was starting to become rather odd.
We eventually arrived in Kingston and we met up with Becky. We went to Topman to buy one so Becky could buy a girl friend some socks. Yes, I did say Topman. It's odd how women can get away with wearing mens clothes, yet it's considered strange how men can't wear womens clothes. Although I guess it is odd to see a man wearing female clothes. Anyway, we soon went to Topshop in search of these socks and then it began.
As any man will know, it is a frightening experience entering a female fashion store. Especially one without a male fashion section. I've been to these female fashion stores before with my mum but I always knew that as long as I stuck by her side and I didn't complain about being in the shop then my mum would happily go to shops that I would like to go too.
However, we soon got trapped. Becky had thundered around the shop at a lightening pace. We, though, were stuck. Trapped. Cornered in a small area of the shop surrounded by hundreds of female shoppers and dummies. As far as I could see we were the only men in there. We must have looked creepy and strange. Women will have wondered what we were doing there. They were probably whispering and pointing at us.
Luckily we soon escaped what was fast becoming hell and caught up with Becky and went to the top floor. It was here where the men were. The men who were there for their women. Their female friends, wives, girlfriends, daughters. The whole male spectrum was here and they all looked equally fed up and petrified. One man was carrying his girlfriend's bag, one was following like a depressed sheep and another was merely standing at the side. He looked especially trapped and lost in this world for high street female fashion. I wanted to nod to the man to give him the 'I-feel-your-pain' look but if I had I suspected he would have been even more distressed.
We eventually made it to the male safe haven of HMV. I was looking for Ninja Assassin, but another soon caught my eye. Ninja Cheerleaders. It sounds brilliant. It has ninjas who are cheerleaders and they must compete in a strip competition to gain some much needed cash. It seems like a film that is probably worthy of an Oscar. It only had one downside. It was £12. However, I've found a copy on Play.com for £5 and I plan to buy it soon. If you're lucky I might even give you a detailed review of the film.
I noticed I had recieved a text. A text inviting me somewhere. It was from my friend Alex. It read, 'Do you want to come to town to meet me becky and rice at like 1 to 1:30 ish??'. As any good friend and reader of the classic Danny Wallace book Yes Man, I decided I only had one answer. Yes.
Now, here's an interesting sub-plot. It's also my parent's anniversary. Their 28th to be precise. My sisters weren't in at this time and weren't coming back all day so my parent's weren't exactly dissapointed I was going out. If you can read between the lines, that is a sentance I never wished to write.
So I had arranged to meet Alex by the roundabout. It's a well known place in Berrylands. It's almost as renowned as the pub. However, he was late. His mum was giving us a lift into Kingston, yet an apparent trip to petrol station was taking longer than expected.
I had been sitting, waiting for an age and then some lady proved that women drivers are in fact rubbish. Of all the parking places, she decided to park right by where I was sitting. The cheek. How dare this lady play mind games with me? How dare she take over my land? I thought I should stay strong and remain where I was. I had to win the battle of minds for men all over the world united against women drivers. I got up and called my friend. He informed me he was nearly here. I had lost the battle of the wills against the lady. She walked off to the park knowing she had won.
Suddenly, a massive group of OAP cyclists flocked through the park and round the roundabout. I had never seen such a thing. This day was starting to become rather odd.
We eventually arrived in Kingston and we met up with Becky. We went to Topman to buy one so Becky could buy a girl friend some socks. Yes, I did say Topman. It's odd how women can get away with wearing mens clothes, yet it's considered strange how men can't wear womens clothes. Although I guess it is odd to see a man wearing female clothes. Anyway, we soon went to Topshop in search of these socks and then it began.
As any man will know, it is a frightening experience entering a female fashion store. Especially one without a male fashion section. I've been to these female fashion stores before with my mum but I always knew that as long as I stuck by her side and I didn't complain about being in the shop then my mum would happily go to shops that I would like to go too.
However, we soon got trapped. Becky had thundered around the shop at a lightening pace. We, though, were stuck. Trapped. Cornered in a small area of the shop surrounded by hundreds of female shoppers and dummies. As far as I could see we were the only men in there. We must have looked creepy and strange. Women will have wondered what we were doing there. They were probably whispering and pointing at us.
Luckily we soon escaped what was fast becoming hell and caught up with Becky and went to the top floor. It was here where the men were. The men who were there for their women. Their female friends, wives, girlfriends, daughters. The whole male spectrum was here and they all looked equally fed up and petrified. One man was carrying his girlfriend's bag, one was following like a depressed sheep and another was merely standing at the side. He looked especially trapped and lost in this world for high street female fashion. I wanted to nod to the man to give him the 'I-feel-your-pain' look but if I had I suspected he would have been even more distressed.
We eventually made it to the male safe haven of HMV. I was looking for Ninja Assassin, but another soon caught my eye. Ninja Cheerleaders. It sounds brilliant. It has ninjas who are cheerleaders and they must compete in a strip competition to gain some much needed cash. It seems like a film that is probably worthy of an Oscar. It only had one downside. It was £12. However, I've found a copy on Play.com for £5 and I plan to buy it soon. If you're lucky I might even give you a detailed review of the film.
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