Beast In Black - February 2023 - Manchester

 Well hello there my reader friends,

So, what have I been up? Glad you asked (Well, I am going to tell you even if you didn't. It would be a very strange blog if I just waited for suggestions. Though if you have any suggestion what I can do with my blog do tell. Polite suggestions anyway before anyone gets any ideas)

So last night, 23rd February 2023, I went to a heavy metal concert in Manchester. And it wasn't my first one let me tell you. Cause I like heavy metal music. I like it loud (though not too loud. Don't want to upset the neighbours!). The band were Beast In Black. Which you would know, or could at least guess, from this blog's title.

So Beast In Black are mainly from Finland though the lead singer is Greek. They play what is termed 'Power' metal and have quite a heavy use of keyboards and, at times, a disco beat. They have plenty of videos over on YouTube (doesn't everyone!). I actually first saw them in November 2022 when they supported Nightwish and thought they were pretty good so when they announced their own tour I bought a ticket. 

The doors opened at around 7:30pm and though the queue was quite substantial when I arrived at Manchester Academy, once the security guys started letting people in , it wasn't too long before we entered the building and made our way though into the basement which was called the club area. Which was a strange room. There was the stage naturally and a clear area in front of the stage with the bar down one side. So far so normal. After this point however things go a bit different. Maybe about three quarters of the way down were the pillars supporting the roof with a further clear area. Beyond that and up a small set of stairs or a ramp was a seating area. It was too one side that held the merchandise stall for both Beast In Black and the support act Firewind. And here was once problem. If you were in the clear area next to the stage then you're view wasn't too bad (provided the person in front of you wasn't taller, wider or possibly both). After that you had the pillars to contend with. I'm guessing the room isn't necessarily set up for gigs, or at least not with the number of people present this time. I could be wrong.

So onto the music. Firewind, I had not heard of before though they seemed to have plenty of fans in the crowd. For me, they were ok. I wasn't blown away by them but they were decent enough that nobody slipped outside for a ciggie or a quick vape.

Ans so onto the main act. Plenty of energy from the band and frequent cries of "Ok Manchester!" or a variant of ensure the band quickly got the audience on side and kept them on side for the duration. There was a mix of the newer songs from the latest album 'Dark Connection' as well as older material from both 'Bersker' and 'From Hell With Love'. 

Now, and this is probably I'm not an ideal person review this songs, Beast In Black are still a pretty new band to me so while there were some in the crowd who knew the songs within the first few seconds ,and though I did recognise 'Blind and Frozen', 'Crazy, Mad, Insane', and 'Sweet True Lies' straight off the bat, I wasn't one of them. It might have taken until the chorus at the very least the first couple of lines of the songs but I got there.

I'm also not one to start shouting, screaming and jumping around. It's just not me. If you want to go that way, then go for your life dude because I'm not going to stop you. I'm more of an observe and enjoy the whole atmosphere thank you very much. But enjoyed the evening I did and it was all over far too quickly and I and everyone else shuffled out in the Manchester night.

So did I enjoy the band? Yes.

Would I see them again? Yes.

Did I like the venue? Not so much. But with a smaller audience it might work ok. 

Anyway, I hope you like these inane ramblings. Maybe I'll do another for the next gig I go to in April. This time it's turn of Sabaton and apparently they have a tank on stage...

Ta ta for now

New Year goals - Maybe

 Well hello my reader friends,

Anyone still there? Anyone?

It's been quite a while but I'm back. *dusts down the blog*

And this will hopefully turn into something that people might want to follow as I try and navigate the choppy and scary waters of a goal I decided to set myself for this year. 

Drawing and painting.

Yes, you read that right. I going to try a bit of drawing and then paint something. And it started this very evening

I don't believe in making New Years resolutions but this is a bit different. It might actually be fun. Ok, I grant you, it might turn out to be as fun as toothache but I might as well give it a go. 

So, I went and got some pencils, a sketch pad and nice little book called 'Drawing for the Absolute Beginner'. So onwards to the first part which is handily titled 'First steps'. 

Drawing lines, boxes and circles. Not the most difficult thing in the world as you might think but one has to start somewhere. 

So, anyway, it's a start isn't it?

Stay tuned to see how this goes on. I might try some more tomorrow. Or it might be at the weekend. Let's just say it won't be on Thursday as I will be out at a gig. Now that's a thought. I might do a blog report on the gigs I've got planned for this year. But there will be more adventures in drawing a painting throughout the year. 

So, see ya later. 

No More - A Short Story

 Well hello reader friends,

Well, those of you still hanging around. Waiting patiently for me to dispense more pearls of wisdom to help get you through life and bring joy and sunshine to these cold, dark, winter months.

Or you just want to waste five minutes before Strictly Come Dancing starts on the tele so you thought you'd read the inane drivel written by a complete moron. And to those people in the latter camp I say... Yep, here I am and here it is. 

So I'll try and do this more often. Again. Well, alright, I'll do it when I can be bothered. It's not like you can complain either. I mean, you're getting it for nothing. 

Anyway, for now. I present to you my entry which I sent, full of hope and optimism, into a 'Post Apocalypse' themed short story competition. Suffice to say, it sank faster than the sodding Titanic. 

Enjoy.

-----

No More

 

Well hello stranger and let us bid you welcome to our humble village. We insist that you stay with us this evening as we would not hear of someone sleeping out in the open when we have ample space for you to rest. The inn keeper across the square will have a room for you.

We are quite busy this evening as tonight is one of our most important nights of the year. An evening of quiet reflection as a village before we retell the tale of Steven. He is an important figure in the area and from this village no less. Once a year a member of the village is chosen to recount the tale and, unfortunately, this year, it is I who has been picked. I fear though, I am not much of a story teller so my turn will not be remembered with any great joy. But maybe you will permit me to practise on you first.

No one remembers exactly how the old ways died out. Some said it was through a terrible disease that spread from land to land. Others say that the great and powerful nations fought with each other until no one was left alive to figure out who won and who lost. Not that it mattered. Those that survived left the built-up areas. They were great when things were working but not so good when things stopped. We have had stories passed down to us. People relied on devices that could talk to anyone in the world yet they never talked to their neighbour. It is strange that people would choose to live in a tower, crowded on top of each other, with some even living in the clouds. Who would want to live that far away from the ground? We have heard of a phrase ‘concrete jungle’. I do not understand fully what it was but from the description that we have been given I do not believe I would find it very agreeable. After all, who would want to live that close to other people and away from the green of their world?

But I veer from the story and I apologise. For the first few years the people struggled. The stories say the winters were the worst and many more died until the survivors managed to find their feet and began to work the land again. They toiled the fields and sowed crops, farming the food they needed to survive. They put aside their differences for the sake of survival. Work together or die: it was that simple. Eventually some of the small communities banded together to form larger settlements. All the while it was agreed that they all needed each other if the human race was going to carry on. Our village started over in the square. Now, as I said, it is the day of Steven. It is said that he dug the first well that we have refined over the years and generations and we are thankful to him for his efforts though it is not the reason we celebrate him. He would not wish to be venerated in such fashion though for it is his virtues of humility and humbleness that we will remember. And we tell the story of how he turned away those that wished to control the village and have power over everyone.

For I said that everyone banded together in the hope that all would survive but that wasn’t entirely the truth. It would be more accurate to say at the very beginning the people banded together but after a while there were some that decided they wanted more than their share. They formed gangs that would roam from village to village and through violent means would try to take what they wanted. These people weren’t above the most underhand ways of kidnapping children and the deaths of the elders and the weak to get their message across to the rest of the communities

At the time Steven didn’t know the future. He had just been married to his wife, Sarah, and they were very happy. The whole of their village had attended the ceremony and had been genuinely pleased for the couple. He was known to be the quieter one but also a good man. It is said that while he was tall, he was also slim and wiry with jet black hair and a gentle smile.  He was pleasant but kept himself to himself for the most part though, if anyone was in genuine need of help, he wouldn’t he hesitate to offer his services.  We think he helped build our main hall and it is said that he would be the first to start work in the morning and the last to finish at supper time. I do not know if that is true but it sounds like something he might do if the stories are accurate. Sarah was the more outgoing of the pair. She is said to have had hair as blonde as gold and would light up the room wherever she went. It is also said that she was blessed with a sharp tongue that could cut a man dead with just a word. I often wonder how two people who were clearly the opposite of each other could come together so readily yet, according to the tales carried down, they were drawn to each other and could not be separated. They brought out the best in each other. He brought a calming influence into her life and taught her to think before speaking, if only some of the time, while she gave him a dose of confidence to go with the humble nature. It was a happy day in the village when the two were married over there by the well. It’s a shrine to them now but I will get to that part soon. The whole of the village joined in the celebrations and each contributed what they could, be it part of the ceremony or a gift of food for the celebration. They had endured much and enjoyed little so now was a time to cheer and finally give thanks that maybe, just maybe, a new dawn had arrived. The villagers dared to hope that a better future was on its way. And for a time that was how it seemed to go. The spring wedding turned into a beautiful summer and a strangely warm autumn, as if the world had agreed that they had toiled enough and they should have enough to get them through the winter. Things rarely go to plan though do they? And the villagers found that the world may give with one hand but it is very quick to take away with the other.

The warlords came during the harvest most years. The old one, a man named Thomas, said to be a giant of a man and unbeatable in a fight had grown old. A beard, once black as the night, was now mainly grey and the scars on face and body belied the slowing down of his reflexes. When he arrived the year before a gleaming new scar ran from his nose to the top of his ear and he was sporting a black eye patch over his left eye. But though he ruled with a will of iron he was also fair and never took his anger out on the villagers. He just took what he said was his protection tribute and went on his way. His successor was far worse. For where Thomas was fair, Michael was cruel. But his was a cold cruelty born out of the desire to see innocence suffer and die and because he enjoyed the pain he could inflict on others. But he was as petulant as a young child as well. He would lash out at the most innocuous slight or perceived insult at his stature. He was a small man both physically and in moral fortitude. Steven was a very modest man but Michael was not and he flaunted his wealth everywhere he went. He believed he was untouchable and everyone else was just there to be of use to him and be cast aside when he tired of you. The villages soon came to hate him. Steven and Sarah had been married for two summers when he came into the village for his yearly protection tribute. This year though Sarah must have caught his eye so he demanded she be taken to his fortress with them. At first the village would not give her up and Steven stood between her and Michael. It was then Michael’s cruelty shone through. He ordered his men to kill three of the old women, there and then, and set fire to every building in the village should we not give Sarah to him. The villagers stood their ground at first with the old women even loudly proclaiming that their deaths would not be in vain should it deprive Michael of a little fun. The village would be rebuilt they said. Sarah herself defused the situation. She let go of Steven’s hand and walked in the space between Michael and the villagers. Her words will forever be remembered. “I will not let anyone die in my name if I could have prevented it,” she said. “For then we will be no better than those who would take without putting back something in return.”

It is said that the moment Sarah was put in the cart along with the first part of the tribute that it started raining and the downpour continued until she was returned two evenings later. The horseman came ambling into the village just as they were preparing for the evening meal as if he had no concerns in the world. He just rode into the village square and dumped her body on the ground. Her dress was bloodied and torn and her face was covered in cuts and bruises. Steven raced to her and cradled her in his arms but the horse rider just looked down at him and smirked.

“Apparently she put up quite the fight,” he said. “At least, at first she did.”

The silence echoed around the village and the only sound was the rain at it hit the puddles. Steven just knelt there watching the rider slowly make his way out of the village and disappear into the mist.  At first, he refused to let her go. Eventually, and it apparently took four men to separate him from her, her body was taken from the square so she could be cleaned up before we gave her a proper funeral. But Steven just sat there saying nothing. For another three days he just sat there in the rain and the mud and the shit. The town tried to comfort him as best they could but he was, shall we say, elsewhere. He wouldn’t speak, refused any food and refused any warm blankets to protect him from the cold of night.

It was the morning of Sarah’s funeral that we saw he was gone. We had hoped that seeing the village give her life a celebration and a send-off that such a warm person deserved would help him but as the flames took her body there was no sign of him. It was as though he never existed, he had never met Sarah and their union had not brought so much joy to our little village.

There was not much joy in the village for some time after. Then the day of the second tribute Michael and his men did not show up. Confusion ran through the village. Surely they couldn’t have forgotten?

It was decided to send a small scout party to investigate. They thought they were smart and we didn’t know where their hideout was. But we knew. We just didn’t want to go anywhere near them if truth be told. They were in an old abandoned building on the very edge of the ancient city. Something called a hotel I believe. I’ve seen it as my father took me there a few years ago to teach me the story I’m telling you now. I didn’t like it. It had the smell of death and decay. Nature has been steadily reclaiming the land but in parts it is still without any hint of green or brown and is just grey. A massive road, that’s what my father had said it was called, snaked its way into the distance. He told me that they had mechanical devices that could transport them at great speeds but they needed to cut through vast swathes of land to have enough room for them to work. He’d even heard that, even though they were capable of high speeds, there were so many of them that sometimes they would all have to queue up and ended up going nowhere.

Anyway, I must carry on. The scout group quietly made their way to the camp and what they saw horrified them. Michael and all his men had been killed. It was like a wind had ripped through the camp and destroyed everything in its path. They found Michael in the middle of a clearing tied to wooden post with his throat cut. Around his neck was a thin chain attached to a small piece of wood. In blood were the words ‘NO MORE’.

The village was stunned when they returned. Some wanted to celebrate their good fortune that Michael was gone but some of the others weren’t so sure. So more of them went to see. And more saw that Michael was dead and not coming back.

The next morning the cart was in the middle of the village square with a good deal of our food returned to us. On top of the food was a sign that had been etched into a piece of wood. It read “We will be ruled no more.”

Then one of the villages, an elderly man who said that Steven had been his friend, said he found a letter that had been pushed under his door while he was asleep. After a few moments he read it out to us.

“Let this be the day that we cast off the shackles of those who would rule by force and take what is not theirs. Let this be the day that we finally say no to the greed of one man being worth more than the life of another. For we need to believe in each other and help each other through the good times and the bad with each person bringing their own qualities to the village. But there are those who do not believe this to be so. If they leave us in peace then we must let them be. It should only be in times of strife when they seek to impose their will on us that we must respond with an equal show of force so they too will learn the lesson that Michael learned; That we will be ruled no more.”

We can only assume that it was written by Steven and that Michael’s actions towards Sarah had pushed him too far. Or maybe he decided that no other man would have to go through what he endured. Steven never returned to the village so we never got to ask him but the people of the village decided to follow Steven’s words. They took the weapons that Michael and his men once used against them and learnt how to use them. They made sure that each person was able to defend themselves should the need arise. But there was a vow taken at the same time. Never would we use these weapons to attack or subjugate those less fortunate than us. But we would not bow down again.

We began to hear stories from other settlements about a stranger who would come to them in their time of need and set them free as we were set free. He would never give his name and he never stayed in the one place for very long. I often wonder if it was Steven going from place to place. Maybe it was just a story.

But let me tell you this my friend. We welcome you to our village this night but we know you are not the humble stranger that you are currently playing. We know where you come from and with whom you have allied yourself. So, take this message back to your master. Tell him this is the village of Steven and we bow to no-one.

No more.

The great CV conundrum

Well hello there my reader chums,

So it looks like I'm going to be on the move again. Mainly because, in a few short months, I'll be looking for work. Because the government and society doesn't really like people sitting around not doing very much. And I don't like Jeremy Kyle.

Which leaves me with two choices..
1: Stay in Scotland and try to get a new job up here.

or

2: Look for a job back down in deepest darkest Cheshire.

Now, unfortunately for Scotland, there are more job opportunities for my line of work in the North West of England so that's where I'll be concentrating my search.

Either way, it's a bit of a bugger. Well, quite a lot of a bugger. In fact, it's a major bugger.

Mainly because I've had to put together a cv. Which is about as much fun as having toothache and getting kicked in the knackers at the same time.

I mean, you only have to look on this t'interweb thingy and see there are hundreds of sites. No not that type of sites you dirty sods. The ones telling you what to put on the cv so that it will get you noticed by a potential future employer. And what not to put on it. Apparently I'm not supposed to put that I was the last man to go into space in a home made rocket, made first contact with an alien race, married their princess and stopped an interplanetary conflict by getting another alien ambassador completely bladdered. Just because that might not have ACTUALLY happened. I mean, really? They can't prove it didn't happen and if they go looking for any evidence then I could just say that the government have covered it up and the details are all locked in a vault for the next two hundred years or something..

'Surreal comic flights of fantasy are a no no' seems to be the message.

So I have to make myself sound windswept and interesting without lying about it. See, told you it was a tough one. Wonder if I could show them this blog...

A quick story - 8th January 2016

Yes, I'm back my lovely little friends. With a bit of an experiment. Each week there will be a bit of monkey writing after getting a random word form a word generator experiment.

This is the plan.
1: Get the word
2: Write the first thing that comes into my head
3: Type it up and put it on here very quickly.

Now it doesn't have to be right good. In fact it probably won't be. It won't be very long either. There may be inconsistencies from one sentence to another. And it might not make a lot of sense. But to hell with it. 

So here we go:
The word for this week was : SPEAKER

And here is the story:

Three words. That's all. Three words. A voice through the speaker, Every speaker all over the world. Saying the same thing over and over and over. Everyone heard it. But everyone heard it in their own language. Wherever they were. Which ever country they were in, at home or on foreign soil, they heard it in their own mother tongue.
There was panic. After all it isn't everyday that an alien fleet enters your planet's atmosphere and parks a fleet of ships over the capital cities of the world. Then all the signals went dead. Simultaneously, all over the globe, communications were lost for five minutes. Only to return as if nothing had happened.
Then the voice over every speaker. A cold, metallic computer voice.

"Prepare to die"



So what do you think?

Short, fat hairy legs... (my attempt at a review)

Hello my little reader friends,

Bit of a change for this one. As you know I've been to the theatre a few times this year and someone recently said that I should write a review. So I thought I'd give it a shot.

And here it is.

'Eric And Little Ern'
Kings Theatre, Glasgow
24.11.14

Starring:
Jonty Stephens as Eric Morecambe
Ian Ashpitel as Ernie Wise

Not to put too fine a point on it, this is the closest you're going to get to seeing arguably Britain's greatest and best loved comedy duo Morecambe And Wise short of inventing a time machine. But it will be well worth a visit to anyone 

A hospital bed would seem to be an odd place to start a play about Eric and Ernie but start there it does. And it's a poignant reminder that the two people this play is centred on are no longer with us. And in our increasingly cynical times, that they are missed. Possibly more than they ever were. It begins at Nuffield Hospital near Slough where a very ill Ernie Wise gets a visit from a rather unusual doctor...

Of course the doctor is none other than Eric Morecambe and then we realise that he has come back to help his old friend so they can perform one last hurrah. And it's this realisation that gives the play a note of sadness amongst all the laughter.

To say any more about the plot would be to give too much away and spoil the play for anyone wishing to go see it at a later date but something must be said about the performances of the two actors. While Ashpitel is excellent as Ernie Wise, it is Jonty Stephens's Eric that really makes the show. Even when he isn't saying anything, merely wandering around the stage looking bored, he is Eric Morecambe. Always ready to be the clown and, as pointed out by Wise, always in comedy mode, always 'on'. A point, the two lament, may have had something to do with Eric's untimely death. 
 
The jokes are pretty good. Some of the old favourites are played out brilliantly much to the eager anticipation of the audience. At one point a siren is heard from outside the stage 'window' and the audience almost starts to laugh before Stephens can utter the line 'He won't sell many ice-creams going that fast'.  It can hardly be a surprise to anyone reading this though, that the biggest round of applause, apart at the very end of the performance, was when Stephens utters the immortal words "I'm playing all the right notes..."

The end, as it was in the tv show and, I assume, their stage act ,was, of course, 'Bring Me Sunshine'. And the whole audience was singing along. The same audience that came out of that theatre with big grins on their faces. The audience that have just watched a fitting tribute to two comedy legends.

If you were being harsh then this show is nothing more than a tribute to an act long since gone. But that would be somewhat churlish. For this is more than that. A tribute maybe. But also a reminder of a time long gone. The jokes maybe simpler but they have retained the ability to make an audience laugh. And, in the end, isn't that all that matters.

A time long gone. You can't be there. But this show gives a glimpse of what it must have been like to have been in the company of  comedy greats.

As for this review...

Well..

What do you think of it so far?

(Audience)
"Rubbish"

Where does the time go? (resurrection of the blog)

Well hello my little reader friends,

It's been a while hasn't it? What do you mean I haven't been missed? How very dare you! Right everyone who said that has to now go and sit on the naughty step and think about what you said..

Where's everyone gone?

Oh alright, you can come back. Didn't realise the naughty step could fit that many people on it.

So what's everyone been up to? And this time class, keep the answers clean. This is a family show you know.

And what's been happening with me I hear you ask. Well, alright you haven't asked, but I'm going to tell you anyway. Briefly.  And I've locked the doors

It's been the usual up here at Paisley towers. Still waiting for Karen Gillan to throw herself at me declaring her undying love and devotion (So if you're reading this Karen, you know what to do)

(It could happen. Stop sniggering at the back).

Actually still waiting for any nice young lady to do that. 

Oh and the Chester Grosvenor park open air theatre was back with another set of productions so, even though I'm up in Scotland, I went to another performance. This time it was MacBeth. And this time my lovely little readers I went with friends. And it was good fun.

(Yes, I have friends. Right who is sniggering again? Security! Remove that person! What do you mean "Which one?" Who are you anyway? I called for security, not some snot nosed little squirty sixteen year old. Oh... you are the security...Well...er..carry on)

Actually I've been going to the theatre I lot more regularly since I moved up to Paisley and it has been mentioned that I should write some reviews of the plays and musicals. Maybe, maybe...

And then we had the Commonwealth Games. A rather brilliant exhibition of sporting competition held in the rather brilliant city of Glasgow. I had tickets for a couple of the events and although there were some very early starts (I mean who even knew there was a six-thirty on a Sunday morning?) it was an excellent experience.

And of course we have just finished the latest series of Doctor Who. The first of hopefully quite a few with Peter Capaldi taking over the Tardis. He's just keeping it warm for me you know. I mean, who doesn't think I should be the next Doctor? I'd be well cool at the job. Anyway more on this later..

Ta ta for now

5th Entry into Room 101

Well hello there my little reader friends.

Now then spring is in the air. Lighter nights, warmer weather, flowers starting to bloom, buds on the trees and the sound of birdsong filling the morning air. The time for renewal and rebirth so you might think that this is the time of the year to start again with hope and a new sense of  cheerful optimism.

Cobblers

Rest assured my little friends, I'll still be the grumpy git you've all come to know and love.

Starting now with the next entry into Room 101. And this time its going to be an article of clothing that all sensible, normal, down to earth people will recoil in horror at the very sight of...

The Onesie

I mean, seriously, who in their right mind would wear one? Or maybe I should rephrase that. Who, in their right mind, would wear one in public? More specifically who would wear one in a supermarket? There is a reason why I said supermarket.

It happened this time last week my little reader friends. I had gone back to see Mum and Dad for Easter. It was also the weekend before my dad officially became a pensioner (no really it was). Now I left them on Sunday afternoon for the drive back up to this here flat. Normally I do my weekly big shop on a Sunday morning but this time I had to do it on a Sunday evening. So there I am, pushing a trolley around the various isles deciding what I want, innocently minding my own business when I spotted her. And to be fair she was spotted. For it was a leopard print onesie my friends. She looked, well, stupid. Now, to be fair, I myself generally have all the sartorial elegance of someone who has been dragged through a hedge... backwards....several times. I think the phrase 'scruffy little git' was pretty invented just for me.

But..

At least I can manage to put on some jeans and a jumper before heading to the milk section of Asda so I don't see why everyone else can't manage the same.

So I urge anyone who currently owns such an offending garment to burn it at the earliest opportunity and bring a semblance of sanity to the world.

So now, without further ado, its time to commit The Onesie to Room 101.


*A couple of minutes later there was also a bloke who looked like he was wearing his pajamas and don't get me started with that one...

Ta ta for now. :)

In Praise Of The Sidekick

Well hello once again my little reader friends,

Everyone alright? Good. What about you lot at the back?

This little piece of madness, as you might have guessed from the title, is about the supporting characters that shine out of the little box in the corner of the room. Or wherever you put your tele these days. And it might not be so much of a box anymore. Might be more a flat screen. And it might not be so little either. Seriously, on my so far one and only trip to the Braehead shopping centre (more on that later) I saw a tv that was roughly the size of my flat. You could lay it down on the ground with the screen facing upwards, switch it on and the international space station could probably see what you were watching. But more on that later.

We're talking sidekicks and supporting characters.

The friend of the hero. The dependable one. The stalwart comrade.

Now I'm going to name a few of my favourites here. You may notice a common theme in that they are all women. So this little thread could also be called 'The Horn Factor' and yes, there may well be a few of you out there who will deem this to be sexist.

Tough.

It's my blog so there.

Anyway, we're talking about (and these are just from the tele):

Willow (Buffy The Vampire Slayer)
Gabrielle (Xena: Warrior Princess)
Amy Pond (Doctor Who)
Annie Cartwright (Life On Mars. The British version)
Maid Marion (to be exact Lucy Griffiths in the BBC version of Robin Hood a few years ago)
Agent Simmons (Agents Of S.H.I.E.L.D)
Guinevere (Merlin)

So there you are. The lovely ladies that catch the more discerning eye that looks beyond the hero's shenanigans. Though to be the Amy Pond, Annie and Marion choices don't have much competition given that their respective lead characters are all blokes. Well, time lord in Amy's case. But take the case of Willow. She has to put up with both the far more glamorous Buffy and Cordelia. And I still prefer her to the both of them.

I have no idea what this all means and Freud would probably have a field day psycho-analysing these choices but what the hell. They're my choices and I don't care.

Ta ta for now.

Flash Fiction Friday - Yes its back!

Hello my little reader friends.

Now, are we sitting comfortably. Good then I'll begin.

As you know, my little friends, from time to time I like to entertain you all with a little story that I have wrote using a word supplied from random word generator as the inspiration. Tonight I have had another go.

Stop groaning. You're in this for the long haul so you might as well like it. Besides, I've locked the doors so you can't get out.

As you remember as well, this is the just the first draft as well with no changes being made. Its a fast process designed to get the story on paper.

Anyway, tonight's word was:

Newspaper

And here is the story, entitled 'Read All About it'

Enjoy

------

Read All About It.

 

Sarah sat at the kitchen table, her hand absently rubbing it lightly and tears streaming down her cheeks. No one would believe her. No one should. No one could. She looked at the newspaper sitting next to the now lukewarm teapot and the uneaten toast. Sarah had lost her appetite when she had seen the headlines.

It had started innocently enough a few months earlier. After returning home from the morning school run Sarah had allowed herself ten minutes with that days newspaper which had been delivered. The headline that day, in big black bold lettering, read:

GONE AT LAST!

MP in sex, drugs and blackmail scandal resigns.

Sarah had remembered being puzzled. The MP in question had been the representative for her constituency and, being an active member of the political party, she thought she would have heard something before it was reported in the news. Such a high profile politician would surely have made the television news as well but there had been nothing. Sarah had put the story out of her mind. Until she was watching the early evening news a week later when the story was the main headline. She remembered the look on her husband’s face when she told him she had seen the story a week earlier. He hadn’t believed her so she had dug out the newspaper only to find the headline had changed. It had been there she had insisted. You must have dreamt it he had replied.

That incident had been forgotten until it happened again. Again after the school run she had settled down with the paper and a cup of tea and seen the headline.

DISASTER!

Motorway pile up on Thelwall Viaduct. 30 dead.

Sarah had looked at the page with horror and dread. There had been no accident. Again it would have been on the news. Certainly one of that magnitude. Maybe this time she could do something about it. Warn someone. Prevent this tragedy from occurring. She glanced at the date on the front page and her eyes widened. She had one week until the disaster was to take place. She formulated a plan. The night before she had studied the evening weather forecast. There was to be a lot of fog in the area in the early hours of the morning which wouldn’t clear until around midday. She waited until everyone in the house was asleep until she crept out into the night to make a phone call.

Sarah had recalled how the accident had still taken place. The call had either been too late or dismissed as a hoax. Could she have ever prevented it? If not, why was she being sent these strange messages? Was someone or something just playing with her head? Was someone sending messages from the future trying to alter history for the better? And why just to Sarah?

Sarah wiped the tears from her eyes. There had to be a reason for all of it. This time she couldn’t fail. The laptop sat a few feet away from her. She needed to do some digging and quickly so she reached over, brought the machine closer and switched it on.

Logging on to the internet she glanced again at the day’s paper with its headline:

DOOMSDAY!

Man-made virus unleashed. Death toll: 4 billion.

The smell of the grease paint, the roar of the crowd...

Well hello my little reader friends.

Now lets get serious for a second because I have a confession to make.

*hushed breath from audience*

Now the thing is my little friends, you all know me as a lone wolf, hard as nails, don't cross him, loose cannon type of guy. A mans man. A real tough guy with ice in his veins, gravel in his guts and spit in his eye. Am I right or am I right?

I'm right.

Ok, who sniggered?

Come on, someone sniggered. Right we're not going any further until the person responsible stands up and apologises to the whole class.

*folds arms*

It's your time you're wasting you know.

So it was you was it? See me at the end of class.

Right, so where was I

Well here is the thing. The confession. The revelation that will shake the very universe to its very core.

I like musicals.

Now just let that settle in for a minute. I like musicals. I've been to a few now and will be going to more in the near future. I like them. The whole music, dancing, acting and singing downright fun lot of it.

Its a fairly recent thing started a couple of years ago with 'We Will Rock You' but they are great fun aren't they. I only tell you this now because, yesterday, I went to see 'Happy Days - A New Musical' at the Kings Theatre in Glasgow. And it was rather good. Ok, I'm not sure the bloke playing The Fonz was totally the right choice but you can't have everything. And who doesn't come out of a musical feeling a lot better? They're goddam fun!

Next up is Wicked in a couple of months and I'll be there. Was rather tricky to get a ticket for that one but I managed it. So...

Bring on the Wicked Witch Of The West.

Ta ta for now.

dum de dum, dum de dum, dum de dum, ooo wee ooo

Hello my little reader friends,

And welcome, once again, to my little five minutes worth of insanity. Or should that be sanity? Well, anyway, you're here now so settle down and I'll begin.

So as you know, I have moved up to Scotland and have settled in Paisley. (If you didn't know, well, you do now. And where have you been?)

Well, as the flat is all sorted and work is going alright, it was time to start meeting new people and make some new friends. And maybe, just maybe, meet my impossible girl to go adventuring through time and space with.

Actually when I say the flat is all sorted, that isn't completely accurate. It's all sorted bar the music system. You see, my little friends, when I moved in I decided that as it's a small flat that a big sound system would look out of place. So I was looking for a small set up that could play the radio, cds and my ipod. Anyway my dad found one that would do all three and said that he and mum would get me it for Christmas (this was back in November/early December last year in case you're about to point out that's only just turned February). So having it got it down south we tried it with his ipod and it worked fine. Now, at this point, some of you are probably thinking that we should have tried my ipod aren't you?

And you'd probably have a point. But as his ipod is an ipod classic and my ipod is also an ipod classic you would think there wouldn't be a problem. After all, ipod is an ipod is an ipod is an ipod... (and so on).

So in the new year I dutifully returned north and plugged my ipod into the docking port on this new system.

You can guess what happened next can't you...

That's right, sod all.

Turns out that only certain makes and models of ipod are supported by this thing... and mine wasn't one of them.

There was a way round it though so I can still play the ipod until I can get a more up to date model.  But still.....damn you Apple!! grrrr..

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yeah, impossible girl .
Right, so you lot know I'm a bit of geek right? Yes of course you do. Either that or you've come here by mistake in which case, sit down, make yourself comfortable, and start your catch up reading.

So I've started to look for groups similar to those interests that I was involved with down south (still feels a bit weird calling an area in the vicinity of Liverpool down south but there go). So far I've found a book group and....

A Doctor Who group.

Yes, a Doctor Who group. Yay! They meet every two weeks in a pub in Glasgow city centre (what is it with science fiction groups meeting in pubs?). The train from Paisley Gilmore Street to Glasgow Central takes about ten minutes and the meeting place is only a five minute walk from there so last Sunday I took myself along to one of their meetings to see what they were like. It kicked off at around seven-ish. Meetings like this always have an 'ish' after the proposed start time. Bit like Greek holidays.

They were very nice as it turns out. Let me put it this way, there are far worse ways to spend a Sunday evening. And there were a lot of them as well. So much so that it wasn't possible to say hello and introduce myself to all of them. The good thing is that there is always a point to reference to start the conversations with? So if you ever find yourself trying to have a chat to a Doctor Who fan, just start with these questions:

1: Who is your Doctor?
2: Who is your favourite Doctor? Note: this is NOT the same as question 1.
3: Who is your favourite companion?
4: What is your favourite episode/adventure? You'll probably get two answers here: One from the classic series and one from the new show.

And there you go! You'll have a conversation going and you're now free to wander onto different topics.

So anyway, as I was saying, those that I did chat to were very nice anyway. And I'll be going back

But, I hear you all cry, was she there? Was your impossible girl there waiting for you?

The answer to that is.....

(wait for it)

I don't know. Maybe she was and maybe she wasn't. There were a few nice ladies there so who knows.

Ta ta for now

And we're back!

Well hello again my lovely little reader friends,

Yes, I'm back to inflict my view of the world upon you. Whether you like it or not. This time however its coming from my secret base, inside a volcano somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. Just to be on the safe side, I have also built a laser on the moon which will destroy the earth should this blog get less than 10 views.

A-ha! I hear you cry..

But surely you will perish along with everyone else should your laser on the moon destroy the earth.

Well...

Actually...

No..

Because, by the time the laser fires, I will be on my also secret moonbase surrounded by the most beautiful women in the world. See that, I've thought of everything.

So I'm either in my secret base inside a volcano in the Pacific Ocean....
Or I'm in a little flat in Paisley, Scotland.
Now, my dear reader, believe it or not, I just made one of those two locations up.

Hands up if you think it's Paisley?

So some of you thought I had a secret moonbase hmm?.

Right, so anyway, I'm now back with a fully working internet connection (with which I've already booked some theatre tickets - I'm going to see Wicked! Yay!) and now begins the second chapter of this little bit of madness in the world of the blog. And you'll love it (just think laser).

Well what else have I been getting up?

Getting used to my new work colleagues mainly. And a splendid bunch they are too. (More on them another time. Or maybe not) Christmas found me back down south (More on that another time. Or maybe not.)

So far I've found a book club in Paisley (I went to the meeting this afternoon. More on that another time. Or maybe not) and a Doctor Who group in the centre of Glasgow  to occupy a bit of my time and hopefully make some new friends (the first meeting I'll go to is next weekend. More on that another time. Or.. well, you get the point). Still looking for a writing group and a badminton club but you can't do everything at once can you my little reader friends?

But we're getting there.

More soon.

Ta ta for now

There now follows.. a brief pause

Well hello my lovely reader friends,

Settle down at the back now. I know its been a while since you've last had to come this way. And it's getting close to Christmas (it's alright we can use the word now it's December) so you're all no doubt very busy 

but...

I hope there are a lot of you (okay, a few of you. The odd one or two anyway. What do you mean nobody. hmmph) out there in the wilds of cyberspace wondering where I have been.

And the answer is that I'm on the move. It's one of those work based thing you know. The big bosses have had the idea to close the lab where I was working and give everyone the opportunity to move to the sister lab up in Glasgow. And I have taken that opportunity. Now for the past couple of weeks I've been travelling up and down the M6 and M74 (don't you just love the way the same stretch of road has a different name once it crosses the border), but now the time has come my little friends to move up there permanently.

So there will be a brief recess while I sort out my internet and get everything just the way I want it in my new flat.

I know you'll miss me in the short term but, fear not my reader friends, I shall return bigger and better than ever with new adventures in Paisley (where I'll be living) and the Glasgow area.

The more astute among you will notice that I've also changed the look of this blog after a few suggestions were made. It's now a bit brighter and hopefully easier on the eye. So what do you think?

Ta ta for now

4th entry into Room 101

Well hello my little reader friends,

And how is everyone? I do hope you're all well. And still here waiting for my pearls of wisdom.

So anyway, this is another entry into room 101. Something that I saw on holiday a couple of weeks ago in Lanzarote but will infect any part of the world given half a chance. Something so hideously evil that in casting it screaming into the void would not only make my life better but would improve the cultural experience of everyone the world over.

They are known as:

Elvis impersonators.

Now don't get me wrong here. I like Elvis. I think he was a great singer with an incredible voice and an enduring legacy. You don't get to be known as The King Of Rock'n'Roll without doing something right now do you? And I don't suppose there will be any Justin Bieber impersonators anytime in the near future. Or the far future with any luck.

(As an aside, has anyone else had that experience when the older they get the futher back in time their taste in music is getting. I fully expect to be decrying Mozart as being too modern when I come to retire.)

So, anyway, Elvis = good. A true icon in modern culture.

But...

That does not mean that middle aged men around the world should stick on a wig, a pair of dark glasses, an Elvis fancy dress outfit and then inflict a truly abysmal rendition of his songs on an unsuspecting public. Now some of them may well be able to sing. And some may well even look a little like the man himself. But, really?

It started out so well too, my dear readers, so it did. One lunch time we went to have lunch in a bar near the villa we were staying at having had lunch there a few days previously and finding it to be very nice. There was a small poster on the wall advertising this night and the owners of the bar said that the guy was very good (ok they would say that I know). So we (the family this time, not a load of single people) decided to give it a look. The general consensus seemed to be that 'he can't be that bad'. *sigh*

So the evening arrived and taking our seats we prepared for the show. What came next... well... You know that episode of Only Fools and Horses where Trigger's mate is the nightclub singer? Well it was like that...only without the genius comedy writing and the speech impediment. To be fair, I think my evening was slightly coloured by the image mentioned. So much so I started looking round the room for a Del-boy lookalike.

And the guy didn't even stick to doing Elvis numbers! No, part way through he did a song by The Mavericks. WHY?!

So, to end this drivel, I could probably say that if you have never seen an Elvis impersonator then you should be thankful. If you have then you know what I mean. The world would be a better place without them so we can remember the king as he should be remembered.

Casablanca and the diet coke conundrum

Hello my little readers,

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.

Well last night (Thursday for those not paying attention) I went to the cinema. Well sort of cinema. It was an open air showing of the greatest ever film ever made. Ever.

Casablanca.

Now some may scoff and say that other films may lay claim to the title of 'Best Film' and to them I say this: Feel free to argue and debate my claim for through this medium of learned discourse souls grow even more.

You are, however, wrong.

Because it is the best film ever. So there. You cannot touch the performances of Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman and Paul Henreid. And, of course, 'As Time Goes By'...
Basically, if Hollywood ever plans a remake, I'm nuking the place.

Anyway, in the rather lovely setting of the roman gardens in Chester a group had set up a projection screen and over the past couple of weeks had been showing a range of films ranging from the recent 'Avengers Assemble' through the already mentioned 'Casablanca'.  It must have been quite a sight as well giving there must have been about a hundred people all sat on camping chairs of some description (well I was anyway. If you're interested, it cost me six quid from Argos. If you're not interested, er, well it still cost me six quid from Argos) sitting watching this film whilest wearing wearing wireless headphones.

Now before I got there, I had to get some petrol. And as I was filling up I decided to get a drink and some nibbles. So, once inside the shop, I picked up a bottle of diet coke. Now for those that don't know for sometime there has been some sort of marketing campaign on the bottles where names are printed on the label underneath the words 'share a diet coke with ....' It wasn't until I got to the gardens that I bothered to look to see if there was a name on the bottle I had purchased. As it turns out there was.

It was Danielle.

Which presented me with a moral problem.

Knowing the name should I have then gone round all the women in that audience to see if any of them went by that said name. And if so, would they like to share a bottle of diet coke? Would I then risk the unwanted and potentially violent attention of any partners they might have been with that evening? If no Danielle was present do I then broaden my horizons, abandon the showing of Casablanca and go into the Chester night in search of this mysterious lady?

So there, my dear readers, was the problem. In the end I came up with own answer.

I thought 'sod it, she can get her own' and settled down in my seat.

ta ta for now.

The Play's The Thi- Oh bugger

Well hello my lovely little readers,

Now I'm sure if you read last week's musings (and if you didn't, where the hell were you?) that you would be waiting patiently me for to regale you with tales of theatrical success.

But it didn't happen.

This time.

The course of events went something like this:
Thursday lunch time I received a message on fb saying that one of the actors now was unable to make the Saturday. As we only had three in the first place this was a tiny little problem. Becky, who did a wonderful job organising everything, was trying to work around it and so would I be prepared to try my hand at acting one of the pieces. As I stared at the message on the computer screen two things went through my mind:
1: Oh shit! You have got to be f***ing kidding me. I can't act to save my life.

followed, a couple of minutes later, by:

2: Yeah, alright, go on then.

So then I was sent the script. It was a short monologue on one side of A4 sized paper. Though, given that I had two days to learn it, a couple of lines on a postcard would have been a challenge. I think at that point my thoughts were that 'Well, it might not be right good (my acting that is) but I'll give it a go.' Probably should point out that my thoughts rarely come with brackets but you get the point.

So that afternoon and early evening I sat about (work permitting) trying to learn this piece. And I started to get somewhere with it.

Then I went to play badminton which is a weekly bit of exercise.

Came back to another message. This time saying the two other actors didn't feel they could do the event justice with just the two of them having had a bit of rehearsal time so Becky had taken the difficult decision to postpone it for now.

So that is where we are now. It will be re-arranged for another time in the future. Wouldn't mind but not only had I managed to learn about half of the piece at that point but I was also practising saying 'Do you know who I am?' which I gather is a phrase all famous people have to use (because obviously this is just the start of my rise to stardom and my inevitable appointment as the new Doctor after Peter Capaldi.)

Naturally everyone is disappointed that we had to cancel at such a late hour but, my dear readers, we shall overcome and we shall prevail.

Watch this space.

Ta ta for now

Prisoner 1174 - a piece of flash fiction

Hello  my little reader friends,

Well, as you know, occasionally I like to put a little story on here to entertain you all even more than I normally do. I  know, I know, I really spoil you don't I?!

Well today I'm going to do it again. Now the thing is, its a piece of flash fiction. And more importantly the time time table for its construction went something like this:

6:30pm Friday (yesterday): Get random word from random word generator web-page thingy. The word was 'crown'.

8:30pm Friday (yesterday): Post finished story on fb critique group page.

Yes, my dear reader, what you are about to read took me all of two hours to write. It has not been altered, changed or edited since I put it on fb last night. So its rough.

Actually that gives me an idea... Maybe I should put the various drafts (if I ever do any)  of this piece on here.... hmmm.

Anyway here it is. You can comment if you like. You don't have to though

-----
Prisoner 1174’s eyes opened. He must have dozed off for a moment he realised. He tried to move his head forward before remembering the metal restraint around his neck. He wondered how long he had slept for. He was surprised that he slept at all; the space was hardly built for comfort. But then, why would it be? On a prison transport, he was being transferred to the penal colony on his world’s largest moon where he would spend the rest of his life digging in the mines for the rare ore that kept his planet’s defensive systems working. And how they needed it. The war had been going on for ten years with both sides’ resources being heavily depleted. A truce had been announced some eighteen months earlier when both sides had finally realised that a total victory would not be worth the cost it would take to achieve. Since then, a heightened cold war had been in place between the two neighbouring planets with each watching the other with eagle eyed sharpness. Just waiting for the other to blink first. To make the first aggressive act. To be the first to push the button and annihilate both civilisations.
He remembered the details of how he had been caught and he winced as he remembered the beating that caused him to eventually confess. He’d been set up by his brother in a petty act of spite and it had been made to look like he had killed his sister in law. Evidence had been planted his bedroom, reports fabricated with officials being paid off or made to ‘disappear’. All quick and easy. His head bowed as the fatigue caught up with him. Guess he hadn’t been asleep for too long after all. But then, when had he last slept properly? Two, three days? He remembered that time. Warm and comfortable in his own bed. Would he see that bed again?
The sound of boots on the metal floor alerted his to the presence of the guards. The clang of walkway as the heavy footed officer stomped his way down through the middle of the room. The walkway was raised so the guards could see all the prisoners. And give them a swift kick to the head if any got too mouthy.
“So scum, you’ll be pleased to hear we are about half way there”, the guard called out, his voice cold with malice. “Then you can be off this ship and be working for the good of the new king.”
“Fuck the king.” Said a voice in the crowd. Prisoner 1174 allowed himself the briefest of grins. The guard moved towards the prisoner who had spoken.
“Oh dear, oh dear, do we have a dissident in our ranks?” He asked. Another guard tutted and shook his head, a broad smile appearing on his face. “You should know the rules on this ship,” he continued, “you can only speak when you are permitted to do so. And then, insulting our new king is also strictly prohibited. I’m afraid the punishment is very clear”
The guard produced a small thin black rod from a compartment in the nearby wall. Pressing a button the rod extended to fifty centimetres in length. Another button was pressed and the tip began to glow a bright red. Prisoner 1174 closed his eyes as the red tip was pressed against the second mans chest, the smell of burnt flesh filling the air, the screams filling his mind. Eventually the cries were reduced to slight and muffle sob and the guard replaced the correction device back in the wall unit.
“Now”, the guard continued, “Let that be a lesson to you all. Shortly you will be briefed on what will happen when we arrive at the penal colony. But now, you’ll be pleased to hear, the king is about to make a live broadcast to his people. Rumour has it that it will be a rather special announcement.”
The lights dimmed as a view screen slid silently from the ceiling behind the guard and the smiling face of the world’s ruler appeared. Prisoner 1174 clenched his fist. The rest of the room knew him as the king. Prisoner 1174 knew him as his brother.

The play's the thing

Well hello my lovely reader friends, and welcome to my little part of the insanity that is known as the 'interweb thingy'.

*looks off camera*
What?
*another look off camera*
Sorry, the internet.

So what's been happening I hear you cry. Well, like it or not, I'm going to tell you.

Since I last imparted my little jewels of wisdom down to you I've been to see a couple of plays at the Grosvenor Park Open Air Theatre in Chester. Each time on a Saturday evening. I know, my little reader friends, not the forefront of what is hot as you would normally expect from me (being as I am, down wiv da kidz). But highly enjoyable none the less.

For the record, and in case anyone out there cares, they were 'Cyrano De Bergerac' and 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'.

Now, both were brilliant, but, if I had to choose one of the two, I would have to say that I preferred Cyrano. I don't know why. Guess it's just one of those things when one play has more of an impact than another. But both times I was sat there, in the covered terraces section (a choice that would prove to be a smart move during Midsummer when it was absolutely chucking it down durng the second half), watching the marvellous acting and wonderful script that was in front of me. I plan to do more in the coming years so long may the Grosvenor Park Open Air Theatre continue. Beats being inside watching tele all night or down in some loud, hot and sweaty night club in my opinion anyway. Which is probably why I ended up going on my own.

But the big news is that next week it's my turn to have their words spoken by actors.

Because I, along with four other writers are having their micro plays performed in a little room in a little building in Chester. Its a small start. But an exciting one and I'm glad to be a part of it. And who knows, as I think I've said before, from small acorns....

Ta ta for now.

Sun tan - check, photos - check, happy memories - check.. Bugger, I'm back (Part 2)

Well hello again my dear readers,

So, now, where were we?

Ah yes, thats right, the first night. As you read last time, the Manchester flight got to Zante earlier than either the Bristol or Gatwick flights.

Right for this one I'm going to break the holiday down into a few categories. Mainly so this thing doesn't go forever and bore the arse of everyone. So lets start with:

The People

The group consisted of fifteen people in total. As I said, five were on the Manchester flight and I had a bit of a chat with them going from the airport to the hotel. That left ten who joined us throughout the evening. And I can say that they were all wonderful splendid people to be in holiday with.

Bar one.

Yes, there is always one isn't there dear reader.

The thing is, when you're on a solos holiday then you ain't going to know anything about the others in the group. And it is up to you to go and find out. You're in the same boat as everyone else and, unless you want to be back in your room by about ten in the evening you going to have to make a bit of an effort. There are even, if you think about it, a series of questions to get you started.

What's your name?
Where are you from?
What do you do?
Are you here for one week or two?
Have you been on a solo's holiday before? Which ones?

Get through that little lot and generally, as if by magic, you get to know the people. So thats how we all started out.

Bar one....

who made no effort what so ever. I don't know why, my little reader friends. Maybe he had something better to do. Not that the rest of us minded. We all just got on with it. His loss, not ours.

Food and Drink

The food in the hotel was basic. Like the rest of the hotel really. To be fair to them, there isn't alot they can really do about it though. It can't be easy coming up with a range of dishes that will be ok for multiple nationalities staying in their rooms that week. But what they had was ok. There was always the option of going to one of the nearby restaurants anyway. Which we did a couple of times during the week. The food at which was rather lovely. Though remind me not to have the garlic prawns. Well not without a bib or something first.

The drinks were great though. A pint of Mythos (really nice greek lager) was a very reasonable 2.50 euros. For some reason best known to the greeks a half pint was 2.30 euros. No, I don't know why either. Could possibly explain why the greek economy is knackered though. Either way, I might have drank a fair bit of it during the course of the week.

Also, at the pub which kind of became the group 'local', on a couple of nights shots were produced. Now, normally I don't like these things, but this one was different. Buggered if I can remember what it was called or what was in it but suffice to say, my dear readers, it was a bit good.

The hotel

As I have just said the hotel rooms were basic. But what else do you need? The bathroom was clean and the shower worked. The bed was comfortable and I had a great view. I've no idea if the tele in the room even worked let alone what channels it had on. But then who goes on holiday to a beautiful greek island and stays in the room and with the tv on.

The staff were polite and friendly even letting us take over the bar music system if we were the only ones in.

One rather curious thing was all the weddings that took place there. Now, my dear reader, I'm very much a stranger when it comes to getting married but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't want to get hitched when there are a load of people sunbathing on the beach next to you. Still, it provide a moment of amusement when one day, with a fair few of the group down on the beach, a horse and cart came trotting over the sand and passed right by us with the bride and groom who, rather than enjoying their happy moment, were hanging on for dear life in the posh seats in the rather elegant cart and looking very uncomfortable.

----


So there you have it. I could go a bit more but to go into too much detail would be to take away some of the magic of what was a wonderful week.

But wait, I hear you cry....

Col, what we really want to know is....

Did you find your 'impossible' girl with whom you were going to go more exciting adventures through time and space?

Well, my dear reader friends, the answer to that is no.

I don't think.

But you never know. We have said that we'll keep in touch so maybe fate is taking a rather scenic route with me.

ta ta for now