Team Meat / Salad Days

www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/aug/30/frank-evens-bullfighter-salford-spain

On the basis of this article the Spanish really need to spend some more time thinking up nicknames. I'm not sure whether I admire this guy or just think he's crazy. To do what you love for as long as possible is what we should all aim to do but nonetheless dancing with bulls isn't something I'd be doing at 67 with a wife, kids and grandkids. Then you have the question of whether stabbing an already weakened bull for 15 minutes is anything anyone should be doing.

Sitting here I don't really see the point. It does just seem an over elaborate way to kill a bull slowly and painfully. I say this as an avowed meat eater who isn't particularly squeamish when it comes to animal rights, but it does seem cruel. It's only purpose is for entertainment. It is a very old tradition but then so was bear baiting and cock fighting. It is also a tradition that we as foreigners don't understand, it's not a part of our culture and history, but there are practices we are critical of all over the world. Just because something bad happens in a different country doesn't mean everyone else just has to shut up. British culture gets criticized by others and just saying your foreign and don't understand is a cop out. The only thing is, I haven't seen a bullfight. I hope to see one and hear some Spanish defences of it and then I can say I'm fully informed. Though apparently the Spanish aren't as big fans of the bull fight as you might think.

Theres some light weight debate for you. I might have a crack at Israel Palestine next time, get that settled by teatime Thursday.

love love love x

Same Boy You've Always Known

"The moment the Ashes were won"- Picture may not be one hundred percent accurate

Rupert Murdoch, Skippy, AC/DC, Kylie Minogue, Shelia's Wheels, Russel Crowe, Germaine Greer, Rolf Harris, Pat Rafter, Crocodile Dundee, the entire cast of neighbours, that fella that dresses up as Edna Everage, your boys took one hell of a beating.

It was bloody good. After getting quite annoyed when Ponting and Hussey bedded in for the afternoon it was all worth it. Despite not scoring as many runs and not taking as many wickets we won! Our house greeted as we greet all sporting triumph, Dad exploded in a storm of xenophobic joy, my sister squealed, I acted as if I had batted at 4, Mum couldn't care less, it was beautiful.

I'm actually a little giddy from sporting success, like a child that has eaten too much pick and (I refuse to use 'n') mix Charlton have won 4 league games out of 4! 100% record! Wycombe, CONQUERED, Hartlepool, OVERPOWERED, Leyton Orient, HUMBLED, Walsall, ROUTED. I really don't know whats happening, I need to lie down in a darkened room. Sure we don't have a squad and soon as we pick up some injuries it will slip away but that makes it more important to enjoy it now. League 1 is a strange experience. I went to Leyton Orient, which is a dump, where Charlton fans were close to if not outnumbering the home fans and the game after, Walsall, brought less than 100 fans to the home of football. Its because they were so resigned to defeat.

I took a visiting Dutchman to the football. His name is Jochem/Jochan/Jockan. He's friends with family friends and for some reason always enjoys a trip to watch Charlton. I was blown away by his car which has more technology than the early space shuttles.

What John's car (Lucinda) lacks in technology (including some really basic car things) she makes up for in character. John drove us upto London to keep Alex company as Smith was away, we know our place. We played the longest game of Articulate ever. If you don't know the aim of Articulate you have a card and you have to describe the word without using it. So for example you might have "Yorkshire" and you would describe it without saying Yorkshire. Neither team was amazing though John and me did lose, it didn't help with John shouting "THE RIVER JESUS WAS BAPTIZED IN!!!" and then being disappointed when I didn't get the answer, sacred to Hindus, the River Gangees. RE teachers need to up their game.

I managed to catch up with fellow former Waitrosers Kaylie and Jess. It is much better now I get to see them without having to pretend to be working. For the record Kaylie and Jess are to the world of selling baked items what Usain Bolt is to the world of running really really fucking fast, I was the shitty one. They would also write better blogs, what with trips to Peru and love triangles.

I thought the blog needed a kick up the arse. My first thought was to get involved in a love triangle of my own and then write the car crash that followed but that would be beyond what I could achieve with my looks and charm so instead, a countdown is being started! Everyone knows countdowns are fun, just ask Vordeman.

25 days to Spain
Accommodation: None
Level of Spanish: Zero to Very Poor
Level of English: Dropping Steadily. I said writed the other day, I was almost sick.

Flashback #2

Flashback 2, the spotty and unpleasant younger brother of flashback 1, will not be as long. I don't remember as much and I don't want to bore you all with more introspection and lists of details.

However there was a wedding, hurrah! It was a lovely day, Rachel and Russ looked appropriately happy and I'm sure they new McKays will be very happy together for a long time. We stayed in a barn with scousers which wasn't as weird as it sounds. I managed to lock myself out within the first hour to be rescued by a colonial. The wedding itself was good. There was a free bar, I danced like a had a stroke and was a little too keen at the buffet.

Other than that, Sophie and Kelvins hospitality remains as good as ever. Mark took Norwich's first match humiliation well and it was great to see him. It was a very good weekend indeed.

Since then Patrick rode back into Kent like a conquering hero, raping and pillaging as he went. It has been Catherine's birthday. We went upto London and sat in Hyde park. We were entertained by roleplayers. Not nurses, secretaries, firemen etc, but people dressed as elves pretending to be from some magical realm rather than Basildon or wherever. I wonder when reading fantasy books, playing warhammer and other such behavior becomes insufficient for satisfying your magical needs and you take to running around a busy park dressed as a ninja, wrestling and pretending to summon creatures. I want in. I had to leave early to go to a bbq where I ate my own body weight in red meat, cancer ahoy.

I have started to have proper grown up Spanish lessons. A slip came through the door offering lessons in New Ash Green and there is only so much the CD can do. I don't have the book that goes with the CD so as it gets more complicated theres more and more that I need explaining and the angry Spaniard is in no mood for explanation or mercy. So I went to her flat and was given sheets and it felt like being in school. Except that, at my school at least, there wasn't a copy of the encyclopedia of erotica on the shelf; it's off putting. I can't pronounce her name which is awkward and I can envisage becoming a problem in Spain. I'll be a rude English man calling everyone Pedro. According to her people in the north talk 'proper' Spanish.

Things are quiet, I hope you are well

love love love x

Flashback #1

In recalling last week's brief flurry of activity I will try to recreate the Godfather part 2 with a series of flashbacks, but without the drama/interest/murder.

We'll begin on Wednesday where Hannah suffered my company for longer than is considered medically healthy. We went to Laanndddann tawwwnn.

I was quickly informed without her needing to say anything that the British History Museum and the Imperial War Museum were not options so we started in Camden.

Our intrepid tourist Hannah had her first visit brush with the monarchy with our visit to Buckingham Palace. Viewing the palace in the sun with the guards outside is enough to raise interest levels from absolute zero coupled with scorn to just cold indifference. Though the legions of tourists seemed to enjoy it. Liz and Phil were alas not in, probably out pretending to be the head of a huge empire rather than a small island. Liz was probably shooting small animals or down the horse track (I reckon she has a problem) and Phil was probably insulting a proud and ancient people and their culture.

It was swelteringly hot and the walk to the south bank from the palace nearly destroyed me. I have no idea how the tourists manage it. However I did witness this:

A sign for our humble village in the very centre of London. New Ash Green has made it! Consider the doubters silenced.

After this mini and pointless burst of excitement, we visited the Tate modern. It was completely over my head. I was relying on Hannah and her A level in art to explain to me what a rope on the floor tells me about the universe, the human condition or my life but I am a philistine so I suppose it was always a losing battle. My favorite things were both videos. One of a naked man punching himself in the head while a naked woman next to him put plaster all over her chest while she waved a dildo with gay abandon. The other video was of a naked man sitting next to a naked woman on a sofa while passing a big white orb to each other. Deep. Keep your paintings, sculptures and prints give me nudity, sex toys and orbs, I know what I like.

After a quick whisk around Harrods which made me feel like scum we met our resident wanky Londoner Alex. He decided that I'm a bisexual and I got him to agree to come with me to Leyton for an epic London derby on a Tuesday night, thats football glamour. He has since wimped out.

Here is something to pass the time

www.miniclip.com/games/extreme-pamplona/en/

I wonder how much Pamplona tat on the internet can be reposted here?

love love love x

Drive Carefully, Dear

HALT!

HUNT FOR HAGI WOULD LIKE TO PUBLISH A RETRACTION OF AN EARLIER COMMENT.

Dr. John Laurence Whittaker has NEVER broken any of this nation's speed limits. He knows that they are set for the safety of all and there is nothing that he takes more seriously than road safety. For the record he has also never raced fellow students on the Gravesend A2 slip road. He has never made me hold the wheel while he got a pound out of his pocket for the toll. He has never had to drive very fast around Gravesend trying to escape chavs after he flipped them off. He has never let me, an unlicensed driver, drive his car. He certainly never undercuts people on roundabouts in an outraged sense of revenge. Hypothetically speaking if these things had happened I would clarify things by saying that I have always felt safe in John's capable hands as he is undoubtedly a fine driver. Hunt for Hagi offers unreserved apologies to Mr Whittaker and his family for the shame and slander which was brought upon him.

There hasn't been any posts recently as for the first time in a long time I have been busy! I will bore you with it over the next few days when I can write it down at a more social hour. Hope you are well out there in cyberspace.

love love love x

We Are All Accelerated Readers

It turns out that el Spanish is proper hard, innit. Crafty Spaniards. As with most European languages you get male and female words, something which has always irritated me; a bathroom isn't male or female is it?! More annoyingly the words' "gender" changes the words around it. I often mix genders throughout the sentence ending in some orgy of hermaphroditic vagueness. The worst being the equivalent of the verb to be which can be es/este/esta/estoy/estamos etc etc etc.

Verbs generally are just awkward bastards. In English it would be - I run, you run, she runs, he runs, they run. The only change is the possible addition of an s. In Spanish, like Romanian, the verb itself changes rather than the I, you, she, it or whatever.

For example:

The Spanish verb to eat is comer. But:

Como demaciado - I eat too much
Comay demaciado - You eat too much (an upward inflection makes it a question)
Comemos demaciado - We eat too much
Compran demaciado - They eat too much.

So when you learn a verb, you actually have to remember loads. This is their vengeance for the long list of irregular verbs that they have to learn in English. Also you tend not to add words like I/you/we as if you hear como you know that the person is talking about themselves.

Other select words that I can remember of the top of my head are

dinero - money
enfermo - ill
tarde - late
temprano - early
rapido - quickly
despacio - slowly
direccion - address
tambien - also
grande - big
perqueno - small

You will have to excuse the spelling. In theory I can also count to 999, though I haven't actually tried as yet. Add in some directions, ordering stuff, general niceties and explaining that my wife is in Bolivia things are coming along nicely. The next plan is to find long lists of vocabulary of things like food and the names of buildings. Hopefully I can find a website for kids with pictures and bright colours. It has crossed my mind that maybe Nickelodeon's resident Spanish teacher Dora the Explorer could help but its too colourful and cheerful for me; its the sort of thing that only children and drug users could sit through.

The CD's cheerful and conversational tone is being slowly withdrawn. Smith and Gomes are a thing of the past, now a Spaniard demands to know how to say "Is the restaurant near or far?" when he clearly already knows.

So far I'm still not sure how much of it is Mexican Spanish but it seems to correspond so I'm not too worried. Mexico (sort of) is a fair part of my life at the moment, thanks to my favourite band deciding that they can out mariachi any Mexican you care to mention.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HRzsAXdJE_0

In Spain proper ETA have reared their ugly heads: www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/jul/26/basque-eta-independence-female-fighters

Otherwise life remains quiet. Sport wise theres been good news. Despair at Charlton was lifted after we VANQUISHED the tractor boys at the Valley. Kent OBLITERATED Durham to reach finals day in the twenty twenty. Huzzah! I need to get a life. The good Dr. John has injected some danger by driving down country lanes at 90 and then informing us that his exhust was in danger of falling out, the engine is questionable and the breaks work "most of the time".

love love love x

The Decline of British Sea Power

These are just a few of the many historic events that have occurred since England last beat Australia at Lords 75 years ago. I have course not been waiting for that long but it hasn't stopped me enjoying it nonetheless. Everyone, including myself, did give themselves a little freak out. Looking back it was ridiculous to panic, thinking that we were going to lose, when we still had a lead of over 200; but such is the paranoia of an ashes series.

Since the next game isn't for a few days I have been forced out, blinking and shielding my eyes, into the daylight. We spent a lovely day on Tuesday destroying some of John's dearest child hood memories. Catherine has a new car and wanted to play with it so John suggested a trip to the seaside town of Broadstairs. John remembers playing with great glee and childish abandon on the glistening white sands of the Kentish Riveria but within ten minutes everyone came to the conclusion that it was shit. I think the problem was that it was too nice, it was small and lacked the usual tat and urban decay of the English seaside. This was soon rectified by the short drive to Margate, the very definition of decay. It's one of those towns that would just benefit from being knocked down and just starting again. The place seriously needs some love. It's sad to see everything boarded up, even the big arcades have closed, and right in the middle is Dreamland. Dreamland was a theme park that was closed for being unsafe which came as a surprise to no one. The fear was generated not from the rides but from wondering if this was the ride when those rusty supports would finally give up.

Other than that I have been trying to sort out getting to Pamplona. So far the plan is to fly to Bilbao and get the bus as flying to Pamplona direct is far too expensive. I've been told its easy but the Spanish bus website seems to be on a permanent siesta, much like myself. Once I have negotiated that I will feel a lot better. I have filled out a questionnaire about what sort of my housemate I am. Lie is a strong word, I prefer vague and selective. Fortunately there was no box "lazy twat".

Who is not a lazy twat is Gok Wan, or as we affectionately knew him at uni, Cock Wank. Real mature. I saw him in Bluewater where he was working it in an inflatable studio. It wouldn't happen on the BBC. He is absurdly thin, like a babies arm. Simmer on that.

love love love x