Crap, I just remembered, I’ve got to pay off IBM by Tuesday.
Anyone know where my cheque book and piggybanks are?
Anything Anthony Bourdain can chuck at you?
The git can:
– cook well (I’ve eaten at Les Halles in NYC, possibly the best meal I’ve ever – ever – had).
– write well (his books “Kitchen Confidential” and “A Cooks Tour” are fab).
– do TV well (although he’ll tell you he doesn’t like doing it)
And – AND – these days he gets to travel the world and eat for a living!
What a fab start to the weekend!
First of all, we get the tantalising glimpse of a maybe-flurry of snow during the afternoon. At that exact same time I am sat at my desk in Colchester with my team manager working on a particularly troublesome support call. All of a sudden in the bottom right hand corner of my screen arrive mails from all my friends saying things like
– YAY! SNOW!!!
– I think i saw SNOW!
as, like I said, I am sat at my desk with my Team Manager. Luckily I think I distracted her by pointing out of the window and saying “Ooh… er.. snow.”
Second, I had an excellent journey home from work. The traffic was my friend, oh yes. I did it in half an hour. Unbelievable for a Friday night.
Third, my unc and his lovely wife picked me up to take me out for a curry at the “Back” Passage to India and then to see Ben Elton at the Ipswich Regent. The curry was wonderful (as ever) and Ben Elton was a revelation. It’s been ten years since he last toured and whilst he is now rather grey of hair, he’s still got it. The ranting is still as funny as he ever was (maybe more so?) and the constant stream of words and gags come fast. If you get a chance to see him on the tour, then do it. Or wait for the DVD. Your choice.
Once Ben had finished talking at us for two hours, it was time to wander off to find Kev in Pals. I’ve not been out in town for, weeeellll, about two years. And predictably, Pals has not changed (although the prices have gone up) (unbelieveable I know).
And I was having a lovely time. Until about 1am. When the ex- turned up. Oh yes. Lots of other places she could go, but there she was. So we talked for about 90 seconds, my continued insistence on breathing upset her and she ran off (persued by some gimpy looking kid with really really bad face moss). She’s lost a lot more weight. Skinny as you like. Still, there was no way I was staying out whilst she was in the same place, style cramped, the threat of some gimpy kid with a silly beard trying to beat me up, etc etc, so I left and came home.
So, an evening that went from the sublime to the ridiculous.
I get up.
I come home.
I fix a computer.
I go to bed.
Tell me something interesting. Hopefully, next week will pick up…
Do not allow yourself to be uploaded to hotornot.com (although I’m currently an 8.3).
Still, if you want to vote for me, go look me up (I’d give you the link but am scared Buz will keep clicking on “1”…)
Well, it chucked it down. Absolutely. Buckets of it. Rain. From the moment we touched down (and possibly earlier) Spain experienced a weekend of more rain that it had seen in about four years.
And I pick that weekend to visit.
Ho hum. Supposedly, Fiona has a mountain range just outside her appartment. The Sierra Blanca. It’s meant to be beautiful and dangerous (a lot like me, obviously), but it was simply obscured by cloud (again, a lot like me).
Still, the weather did decide to be a bit fair and stop raining for a couple of hours on Saturday night when we visited Marbella and spent the night eating tapas and drinking small beers. Very excellent it was too.
The really cool thing about Spain is that, unlike the UK, it has banned smoking in public places. You wanna smoke? Sorry Enrique, out in the street you go, amigo. So the night went on undisturbed by the filth that is secondary smoke. This meant that I was able to taste my food untainted by cigarette smoke. And very excellent it was too.
So can someone please explain to me how it is that Spain can ban smoking with apparantly no particluar problems, but our own “must please all of the people all of the time” Government can’t get its finger out of the arse of the tobacco companies’ collective arses for long enough to pass a law? Bunch of second-rate cowboys.
I could go on, but fear I might irritate one of my emphysemic-smoker readers. I think I’ve nailed my colours to the flagpole.
Back in Spain, and Sunday morning was sunny. Right up til lunchtime when the clouds came back in and the rain started again. And that’s when something leaked and the power went out. Pow! No more electric today folks, bad luck.
So I got in a cab (luckily the payphone was still working) and made my way back to Malaga airport.
Next time, I’ll go in the summer. I might be guaranteed some frickin’ sun that way…