Aren't blogs always full of useless waffle about people you don't really want to read about? What a waste of internet gigabytage.
On that note. I haven't written for days, I'm getting stick about not putting in the effort and I thought I better get on to it. Anything worth telling you? No, not really. Very little it is fair to say. I'm writing anyway, got to please the regulars...
I went to my improvisation course on Saturday and Sunday. It was good. It was fun. I was poor to average in the world of improv, but apparently that is to be expected if you've done little to no improvisation ever in your life. The tutor was a really funny guy and knew his stuff, but as a tutor was a little bit wayward and could even be accused of time wasting at points. *gasps*
Day one was better. I wasn't so hungover and I think as the games got more complicated on day two, people were just getting a little bit more confused. Thing is, unless I join an improv group it isn't something I'm going to be able to make a huge amount of use of. It has things that make you think outside of improv world, but overall is a pretty specific skill and you generally need more than one person to make it work.
If the opportunity arises, I'd certainly give it another go.
It was nice to see Debbie. She made me a jacket potato for my lunch and then we had beers after the course. Debbie, her brother Gary and I went to The Albert pub and had lots and lots of beer and a really good laugh. There was a really friendly puppy that I couldn't stop flirting with. Aaaaah puppies.
On Sunday, I left the other improvers and went to the zoo for my lunchtime entertainment. Saw Animal Adventure, the new exhibit (cool) and went for cheap chips in the canteen. The course was a bit more of a drag as I was feeling tired, but still ok. The Beckster and I went back to The Albert on Sunday, but I only had 1 diet coke, then 1 shandy. I was driving home that night. Thankfully.
I've got a cold and a cough. Not cool.
I'm only working Monday to Wednesday, then I've got six days off over Easter. In fact. I'm only working 3 or 4 days every week throughout April and May. Maybe I can stick the job out for a little while longer until June at least...
Cornwall at the weekend. Looking forward to that.
I think my problem is exactly the opposite; I’m out too much, but dealing with problematic situations rather than enjoying myself.
ReplyDeleteTake yesterday, for example. In the morning, one of my lessees fell off a ladder from a height of around 30 feet, despite having been told by my surveyor that what he was doing was thoroughly dangerous. He fell on his head and was killed instantly.
When I went along, the Police and the Ambulance service were there. As I was looking around and chatting to the other lessees who hadn’t gone to work yet, I noticed the bloody stump of an arm in a flowerbed along the edge of the drive. I pointed this out, and was told that he’d caught the ladder on the way down and it had ripped his arm off. I assumed, perhaps naively, that they’d take it away along with the rest of him. I was wrong.
This morning, the guy in the ground floor flat called to say that, not only had the arm been left behind, but a fox had got at it overnight and the hand was now hanging off as well. I ‘phoned the rozzers and made scant progress, as they did not consider it to be their problem. Now this didn’t surprise me, as I don’t like the local constabulary and they don’t like me. This is probably something to do with the fact that I am one of the very few people who has brought a successful private prosecution against the Police for criminal trespass, and moreover who goaded the coppers in court (with the help of my barrister) into admitting that, in fact, they had a very sketchy grasp of the law they are paid to uphold.
Anyway, I digress. I went down there myself with latex gloves (just like in CSI and some porn films I’ve got), wrapped the arm in a rubble bag and popped it in the freezer. I’m taking it to the hospital mortuary tonight so they can put it with the rest of the body. That is not normal.
Why are you going to Cornwall? Pete and I went to a place called Crackington Haven on the North coast with the rest of the lads for years. Normally, Pete would pull a pretty young Cornish thing, and nobody would pay me any attention at all… until women started to go missing. The natives were mostly jobless simpletons, but I have fond memories of Atul asking a horrified lady in a tea room where his fucking toastie was. Every year. Happy days.
Have you got any gigs after Easter? If so, tell us the dates in advance so that we actually know when you’re on!
Barry,
ReplyDeleteYour arm story is bonkers. I truly don't know whether to believe that or not. I'm going to try and suspend my sense of disbelief, its you and its a mad story. Please post/email picture of frozen fox ravaged arm. That would help and please me no end. I'm sorry to hear that man died at your property. What a pigging inconvenience.
I'm going to Cornwall to visit friends. Simpletons they may be, but they are both employed. They live in St Merryn. I met Vicky when we attended Anglia Polytechnic together in the 1990s. The only "new university" to PUT Polytechnic INTO the name!!!
Gigs yes a few booked after Easter. In May for example. I don't have my diary here and am too lazy to fetch it. I'll give you reasonable notice though x