Twelfth bit of stuff - Halloween

Although I'm not a religious person I must admit I take full advantage of Christmas and to a lesser extent Easter.  At Christmas I, like nearly everyone else, like to indulge in as much food and drink as it is physically possible and generally enjoy the spirit of it all.  Okay so the build up to it starts well too early and way too much money is wasted on pointless presents that no-one really wants, but in general it's a good laugh and there's loads of football on and that's the whole point isn't it? Okay I know it's not meant to be, but really, it is.

Easter, although less celebrated, is again very much welcomed and is like a mini Christmas.  You don't get quite so much time off, you don't stuff your face to the same extremities and you don't get as pissed, but it's welcome all the same.

Halloween however (and I know it's nothing to do with Jesus in any way, is it?)  is something I find hard to abide and it's something that seems to infuriate me increasingly more every year.  In my opinion Halloween is great for kids to dress up as a witch or vampire or whatever and have some fun, eat some sweets, bob some apples etc, that's fine.  

Traditionally bonfire night is a bigger event in this country, but of late Halloween has overtaken it as our biggest autumn event, but in reality it's just another way for shops to make a quick buck.  I actually much prefer bonfire night and would much rather go out wrapped up warm, have a few drinks and chuck a few chavs on the bonfire.

Dressing up for it annoys me too, house parties are probably alright (although I've never actually been to a fancy dress house party), but I hate going to town in fancy dress.  I haven't participated in that for a few years and I don't intend to do it again, but I used to do it every year and I never felt comfortable doing it, I always felt like a right knob, although seeing Superman and Jack Sparrow getting booted out of a nightclub is something I will never forget (by the way, what has Superman, or indeed Jack Sparrow got to do with Halloween anyway?).

As a young child I, like most other young children, went trick or treating.  When I got too old for dressing up and walking the streets begging for sweets, unlike most other kids I never went 'egging'.  Why? Because my parents didn't let me, that's why.  Now I understand that most children who went 'egging' probably didn't tell their parents what they were doing, but unfortunately as a child I had a conscience and if I did something wrong I always felt the need to blurt it out, which would result in me getting a bollocking  But I'm glad that I never went 'egging', because looking back at it, it's not nice is it? And what's the point of it anyway?

So yeah, all that aggravates me hugely, but what really really winds me up more than anything about Halloween (and only those who have worked in a large office can probably relate to this) is decorating the place with fake spider webs, plastic spider, signs saying 'Happy Halloween', plastic skulls and THE very worst (and only a recent addition) is tinsel.  Yes tinsel - orange and black tinsel.  Seriously, stop and take a look at what you are doing, the place looks ridiculous, it's a total mess.  Oh and it's a fire hazard too.

Eleventh bit of stuff - The Cinema

A trip to the cinema is meant to be an enjoyable and relaxing experience, you choose a film to watch, purchase a ticket, get yourself some overpriced popcorn and a fizzy drink, maybe some sweets, or anything else that tickles your fancy, watch the film and go home happy.  Easy, well it should be anyway.

Now I'm not in any way a regular cinema goer, but when I do go to watch a film, for me, it is rarely a particularly enjoyable experience, in fact I don't think I have ever walked out of the cinema feeling entirely satisfied, not since I was a blissfully unaware child anyway.

Okay, so I did enjoy 'The Damned United' but even then I was wondering if it was really worth the £10 I was charged to get in.  When in the queue with a few mates the bloke at the counter said '£10 please' to one of the people I was with, '£10 for 4 adults' I thought, what a bargain. But no, it was £10 each, fucking hell, I know we are in London, but that's taking the piss, the most I had ever paid is about £3.40.  But, like I say, good film, enjoyed it, can't have too many complaints.

The cinematic experiences that don't necessarily go according to plan are the ones that are, invariably, the ones that are remembered more than the standard sit down, watch film, go home ones.  As I've already touched on, I'm not a regular at the cinema - I don't pay a monthly fee to cinema club and I don't subscribe to 'Total film' magazine.  This is largely due to the fact that I - and I feel no shame in admitting this - find it hard to follow story lines, I don't know why, short concentration span I guess, but I get lost easily.  I'm also not too great at sitting still for much more than an hour, so taking everything into account, by the time the last of the popcorn has been shovelled into my mouth I'm usually totally lost, confused, bored shitless, or a combination of the three.

There's nothing particularly difficult about going to watch a film, you go in, watch the film and leave, it's pretty simple, but nothing ever seems to be easy, nothing can happen without something happening.  The main reason for me writing this entry was to recall events that occurred a few months ago when me and 4 friends (yes, 4 males in their mid 20s, shocking, I know) went to the Cineworld, Newport a few months ago, but that wasn't the first time a trip to the pictures hadn't gone according to plan.

The first unconventional trip happened on a Saturday afternoon in 1997 when me and about 20 school friends made the trip to the ABC cinema (remember that) in Newport.  The film that was chosen (not by me, by one of the 'cool kids') was Dante's Peak, a film about a volcanic eruption.  About 45 minutes into the film I was offered some food and I duly took a handful, I was never one to turn down free food and it is a trait I carried into adult life.  The food contained hot peppers that my mouth wasn't yet accustomed to and it burnt it, I made a commotion (another trait I have kept) and proceeded to get kicked out.  Something else I will always remember about that day is the fact Perry chose not to leave me alone and walked out with me - true mate.

Another one I remember was again with a group of school kids (much probably the same lot).  We went to watch a film in Spytty industrial park, Newport, but as no-one was old enough to drive we had to rely on the bus to take us home.  We knew what time the last bus was scheduled to leave, but still chose to watch a film that we had no chance in seeing the end of.  That particular film was 'the Bone Collector' starring Samuel L Jackson, I can't remember much about the film, but ironically I seem to remember actually enjoying it, shame it was cut short, never did get to see the end of that film, I'll have to stick it on my imaginary list of things to do.

There are other experiences I could mentioned, but I can't be bothered and I don't this to go on forever, it's already a lot longer than I anticipated.

So, to the main point of me writing this entry.  A few months ago I had a text from a friend asking if I wanted to go to the cinema to watch 'Inception', I wouldn't normally accept such an invitation, but I had heard good things about the film, without actually knowing what it was about.  I agreed to go on the basis that 'everyone is saying it's good so it must be good' instead of my usual theory that 'everyone says it is good so it must be shit.'

So me and four of my friends (Dowler, Gwyn, Moe and Rory) left for 'Cineworld' in Newport (Spytty industrial park) and I was ordered by Moe to ring Orange (my network providers) to get a code as, apparently, it was 'Orange Wednesday', whatever that was.  So I rang Orange and got my code, which now allowed me to get 2 tickets for the price of 1, two for a tenner in monetary terms.  So it's normally £10 to watch a film in Newport? Rip off.

We got to the cinema at about 20:30 and by the time we had queued and bought a ticket as well as the mandatory popcorn/cola/sweets and made our way to the screening section it was about 20:45.  After a short debate we agreed on what screening was the correct one to go into and as we walked in I saw Leonardo Di Caprio on the screen 'probably missed a few minutes, but won't be a problem' I thought.  The cinema was quite full, so instead of suffering the indignity of walking around looking for 5 seats together we opted for the front section where you are guaranteed to get a stiff neck and will quite possibly have sweets/popcorn thrown at you by 15 year old kids further back.

So there we sat for the next 10 minutes, each one of us silently, secretly confused with the slow starting film and finding it hard to get into.  Then, all of a sudden, the title flashed up on the screen 'Inception'.  Strange intro, I thought, but it will probably move a bit faster now.  And then the lights came on and the credits started to roll.  We all looked at each other with bemusement before we simultaneously realised our monumental (as far as cinemas go) fuck up and then burst out laughing with total embarrassment.  Rory and Gwyn, who were sat closest to the end then leapt up from their seats and made for the exit asap, whereas the rest of us opted for sinking as low as possible into our chairs, in the vain hope the 100 or so people would have forgotten about us walking in with 10 minutes of the film remaining.

This wasn't to be, when we finally got up and started walking out with the rest of the audience I guess they were split into 2 category's, those who saw us foolishly walk in with 10 minutes to go and those who didn't, but were probably left wondering why we all found the end of the film so funny, when it was anything but humorous.

As we stood outside the screening room wondering how we managed to do what we had just done we agreed, aftter much deliberation, to go to the viewing at half past 9.  It wasn't ideal, but we had paid for the ticket and we were intrigued to find out what happened in the first 2 hours of the film.

Before we went in to see the film again we all decided that we would get up and leave at the point we had walked in at the earlier showing.  And so we did.   The look on the face of some lad I caught a glimpse of was priceless, it was a confused look that said 'why would you pay to watch a film before walking out after 2 hours with 10 minutes remaining?' Simple really, seen it.  Either that or got a bus to catch.

So that was it, my best ever cinematic experience bar none and paraphrased perfectly by Moe at the time as 'like our very own Pulp Fiction'.  Probably had to be there to really understand how amusing it was and if I've failed to encapsulate this I can only apologise, I never claimed to be Roald Dahl.  

PS:  The film, in my opinion, was over-rated bullshit.

Tenth bit of stuff - Cars

As you may or may have not have noticed, I haven't posted on here for a couple of weeks.  This is mainly because I have been in recovery and apart from the odd walk and run in with a shop assistant, I have very little to write about (and no-one writes about walking).  I did say that in my spare time I would write about past bollocks that has happened, but in my time off I've become more and more idle, rather than creative, if indeed this blog can be classified as being 'creative'.  Anyway, I have had the odd rant...


I've said it many times before and I will without doubt repeat myself in the future, it's quite well known by those who know me well that I don't get the whole car thing, I can't understand the obsession with them.  In fact I despise most things about them, they seem to bring me nothing but unnecessary distress and the problems they do cause burn massive metaphorical holes in my pockets.  As part of the male specie I'm not expected to admit these type of things, I'm expected to watch Top Gear, bum Clarkson and read Max Power and Auto Trader, but I don't, they just bore me. 

It's not that I don't appreciate their existence, or their importance, because I do, they were arguably one of the greatest inventions ever and as much as I like to sometimes think I would lead a much easier life without one, I know this is untrue, because to me, and most other people (who work 15 miles from where they live) they are a necessity. But that is exactly my point, they are a necessity, something which most of us need to get us around from place to place; to get to work, to go to the cinema, sporting events, gigs, the theatre (not me) etc etc, the list is endless -or at least very very long - but why people spend so much money and time on 'doing them up' I simply can't fathom.  Too much money I guess.

That is quite possibly my main quibble, the 'souping up', or modifying, to those who are even less clued up than me. With perhaps the exception of alloys (which yeah, they can be alright) I can't think of any other modification which doesn't make me feel angry just by looking at it.  From the spoiler (what's the point on a Saxo?) to the lowering of the vehicle (which surely makes it a lot more difficult to get around with the ever increasing number of speed bumps) to those light things they put on the bonnet, it just seems like a huge waste of time and what's the point anyway, you can't see it if your driving it.

However the thing that aggravates me the most, more than all of those above things, is the intentionally loud exhaust.  I can't for the life of me see why anyone would want their car to make those loud, annoying noises.  I once had a hole in the exhaust of a car I owned and it was horrible, I mean really horrible and not even cranking the music up to 30 would make it go away.  I took it to a garage as soon as I could to get it fixed, where I was probably ripped.

Ahh the money I pay to repair these faults.  Due to my ignorance I obviously know nothing about making even the simplest of repairs to cars, ask me to change a tyre and I will probably look at you as if you asked me to work out Pi to 3 decimal places.  Ok I could probably change one if I had to (and I think Pi to 3 decimal places is 3.142, no?), but I'm reluctant to try, in fear of the car falling on top of me and crushing every bone in my head.  I'd probably end up on a programme on one of those sky channels no-one ever watches called on channel 277 called 'Unfortunate deaths' or '1001 ways you wouldn't want to die' presented by someone you've never heard of and have no desire to either.

So because I know nothing about cars I'm forced to go to a garage, a place that makes me feel more uncomfortable than any other place in the world.  I can sense that straight away they have worked me out for what I am - an easy target.  I always delay going to a mechanic for as long as possibly (apart from the loud exhaust incident), convincing myself that the problem isn't really anything to be worried about, that the whirring noise is probably normal and will look after itself, that it will disappear soon enough.  My habitual answer to the problem - rather than going to a mechanic straight away - is normally to turn the music up to the point I can no longer hear the noise, out of sound and out of mind, clever, I know.

One reason I delay going to the garage for long is because I don't particularly trust mechanics, I have a theory (which could well be stolen) that when mechanics fix your car for you they make a slight adjustment to something else so that in 7 weeks time (yes, exactly 7 weeks) you have to go back, and go through the whole rigmarole again.  But seriously, how am I going to know any different?  I can sense them saying to each other 'here he is again, sucker' as I pull up for the 6th time of the year.  I explain to them my problem, but of course they already know, having loosened the clutch themselves 7 weeks ago (yes, exactly 7 weeks ago).

I also have a massive problem with Jeremy Clarkson, the ultimate car lovers hero, worshipped by so many, despised by many more, he is someone you either love or hate.  Well I fall firmly into the second category, I can't stand the bloke.  I hate his TV show too, who cares if they can drive a Skoda fitted with the engine of a speed boat around a racing track blindfolded whilst eating a twister with one hand and opening a tin of beans with the other, it's totally futile.  Oh and so we finally found out who 'the Stig' was, who was it again? Oh yeh, nobody in particular, some secret.

So why moan about cars? why now?  Well as much as I don't like them, I understand the need to get a new one every so often, not just for safey purposes, but so it doesn't totally lose it's value and, well, it is actually nice to get a newer car every now and then, particularly as I spend enough time travelling in it.  So I'm on the search for a new one.  I say search, I haven't really searched yet, I've driven one car, a red Peugeot 207, it was nice enough to drive and looks alright as well (red is a nice colour), but I nearly feel as ill at ease in a car shop speaking to a salesman as I do at the mechanics.  They may sound like they are trying to give you a good deal, buy it's easy to forget that these people - like anyone else in sales - are purely in it for themselves and will probably go at any length to ensure they get their sale.

So that's my view on motor vehicles, you may agree with me, you may disagree with me, but to be honest I don't really care too much, I needed to get it off my chest, and now, thankfully, it is.