Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Southern,
Atlantis has mysteriously closed down. However, I feel that the premises would be too large for our establishment.
Tarnation to unrequited love. Still, it keeps me in the house.
Sperm check consept upsets me.
Northern.
Atlantis has mysteriously closed down. However, I feel that the premises would be too large for our establishment.
Tarnation to unrequited love. Still, it keeps me in the house.
Sperm check consept upsets me.
Northern.
Monday, March 29, 2004
Sud,
A was thinking of "just finding a late bar, like BL1 [where we Always End Up Going] and staying in there". So I told her the idea was to pub crawl more, and it'd already been decided.
She has Nobody from uni coming to stay.
I can't give you a no-tantrum guarantee, but I can guarantee that it's our prerogative to ignore it.
Speaking of tanrums, weird incident the other night. Went to stay at A's, her boyf and P being the usual suspects, and a cameo from M. A & Boyf nodded off on the sofa, and after a while I decided to go to bed in the room next door to A. Was awoken not much later by A & boyf coming to bed, and some kind of wailing. Great, thinks I, last thing I need to hear being the sexual noises made by my friends. But, nay, the wailing was crying so severe it was leading to a panic attack...from what I could make out, A was panicking that she couldn't find her handbag. In her own house. Boyf was having to calm her down by tracking down said accesory and proving it was merely at the bottom of the stairs.
Weird.
Bugger, I meant to text Sinead. Didn't cause I sent everyone a group message, but wanted to send her a different one. Then got distracted. Probably by a shiny thing.
We could go down several paths on Friday:
(a) Trad Bolton commoner: Yates, Cottons, Tiger Feet, Dali etc. Then Ikon.
(b) New trendy type: Life, The Bar, Vague, etc. Then stay in a late bar.
(c) Old school sixth form grebbage: Varsity, Brass Cat, Old Three, etc. Then Hawthorns.
Or mix'n'match. Any preference at this early stage? The earlier we can decide what we fancy, the sooner it can be "set in stone" to avoid A meddlage.
Nord.
A was thinking of "just finding a late bar, like BL1 [where we Always End Up Going] and staying in there". So I told her the idea was to pub crawl more, and it'd already been decided.
She has Nobody from uni coming to stay.
I can't give you a no-tantrum guarantee, but I can guarantee that it's our prerogative to ignore it.
Speaking of tanrums, weird incident the other night. Went to stay at A's, her boyf and P being the usual suspects, and a cameo from M. A & Boyf nodded off on the sofa, and after a while I decided to go to bed in the room next door to A. Was awoken not much later by A & boyf coming to bed, and some kind of wailing. Great, thinks I, last thing I need to hear being the sexual noises made by my friends. But, nay, the wailing was crying so severe it was leading to a panic attack...from what I could make out, A was panicking that she couldn't find her handbag. In her own house. Boyf was having to calm her down by tracking down said accesory and proving it was merely at the bottom of the stairs.
Weird.
Bugger, I meant to text Sinead. Didn't cause I sent everyone a group message, but wanted to send her a different one. Then got distracted. Probably by a shiny thing.
We could go down several paths on Friday:
(a) Trad Bolton commoner: Yates, Cottons, Tiger Feet, Dali etc. Then Ikon.
(b) New trendy type: Life, The Bar, Vague, etc. Then stay in a late bar.
(c) Old school sixth form grebbage: Varsity, Brass Cat, Old Three, etc. Then Hawthorns.
Or mix'n'match. Any preference at this early stage? The earlier we can decide what we fancy, the sooner it can be "set in stone" to avoid A meddlage.
Nord.
Sunday, March 28, 2004
South dude,
A has decided to add her name to the birthday girl list on friday. I let this slide cause she wouldn't be up to organising anything to top our do.
Plan:
We start early with karaoke in the Clifton for those who fancy it. Then we shall proceed along the Gate of Bradshaw, sampling the ale in those establishments which most take our fancy, before settling on an establishment in which to pass the later hours (a late-licensed premises, or we have free Ikon-age vouchers).
Agreed? Any other business?
North dude
A has decided to add her name to the birthday girl list on friday. I let this slide cause she wouldn't be up to organising anything to top our do.
Plan:
We start early with karaoke in the Clifton for those who fancy it. Then we shall proceed along the Gate of Bradshaw, sampling the ale in those establishments which most take our fancy, before settling on an establishment in which to pass the later hours (a late-licensed premises, or we have free Ikon-age vouchers).
Agreed? Any other business?
North dude
Thursday, March 25, 2004
South personage,
I have received tickets in the post to a "special television preview". I am suspicious (potential time-share presentation con paranoia) but wonder, should my desire for freebies be allowed to outweigh my unease?
I scanned the picture into my computer. But my internet connection is the worst ever, hence I've not yet posted the picture.
Went into the Ole Three yesterday afternoon. It still misses our presence. The barman must be new as his spirit is not yet broken.
Birthday notes:
Not heard back from Ali. She may be sulking.
Fancy dress does not really mix with Bolton town centre...beating up potential quite large.
Where does weekend karaoke?
*head implodes due to lack of food due to entire kitchen contents being stacked in spare bedroom*
Why did my mother have to rip out the kitchen this week? Baaaah humbug. We could've house partied.
Any more ideas/contributions/issues?
*stalks off to hunt own nourishment*
neandernortherner
I have received tickets in the post to a "special television preview". I am suspicious (potential time-share presentation con paranoia) but wonder, should my desire for freebies be allowed to outweigh my unease?
I scanned the picture into my computer. But my internet connection is the worst ever, hence I've not yet posted the picture.
Went into the Ole Three yesterday afternoon. It still misses our presence. The barman must be new as his spirit is not yet broken.
Birthday notes:
Not heard back from Ali. She may be sulking.
Fancy dress does not really mix with Bolton town centre...beating up potential quite large.
Where does weekend karaoke?
*head implodes due to lack of food due to entire kitchen contents being stacked in spare bedroom*
Why did my mother have to rip out the kitchen this week? Baaaah humbug. We could've house partied.
Any more ideas/contributions/issues?
*stalks off to hunt own nourishment*
neandernortherner
Monday, March 22, 2004
South,
1) The teacher is Mr Rees.
2) On the subject, do you remember Mr Gleeson? Cath claimed she and he had a 'thing'. Well, now he's all about being the BGB. This is according to Choc, though.
3) Belle de Jour has made it. That is, she has been done down in Private Eye, as Bore de Jour.
4) I will be contacting Private Eye myself when I get a broadcast date for Weakest Link, in a pre-emptive bid; I gave a classic Dumb Britain answer. The Shame.
5) Page 9 of the BEN tonight is headlined "Booze patrol", about the safety of our very own Las Vegas strip. Also has a picture of some school folks I recognise....so
6) How did you stick the photo of us online? I have recognition trouble and it is sending me a bit mad. And I need some opinion - has someone had a nose job?
Northolio.
1) The teacher is Mr Rees.
2) On the subject, do you remember Mr Gleeson? Cath claimed she and he had a 'thing'. Well, now he's all about being the BGB. This is according to Choc, though.
3) Belle de Jour has made it. That is, she has been done down in Private Eye, as Bore de Jour.
4) I will be contacting Private Eye myself when I get a broadcast date for Weakest Link, in a pre-emptive bid; I gave a classic Dumb Britain answer. The Shame.
5) Page 9 of the BEN tonight is headlined "Booze patrol", about the safety of our very own Las Vegas strip. Also has a picture of some school folks I recognise....so
6) How did you stick the photo of us online? I have recognition trouble and it is sending me a bit mad. And I need some opinion - has someone had a nose job?
Northolio.
Sunday, March 21, 2004
Southern,
Last week Choc regaled us with an interesting tale, which, the more I think about, the madder I get. Of course she told it in her usual style – i.e. assuming without a doubt that you will share her opinion. It was as much her style as the story which annoys me.
It was the tale of how a certain teacher at our alma mater (and good friend of her father’s) came to not work there any more. Stop me if you’ve heard it. The teacher was very (very, mere days I believe) recently bereaved of a newborn baby, but insisted on going back to work, whereupon a couple of smart-arse lads, on being told off by him, started to quietly sing “Baby come back”. Which is really cruel. But does not forgive him hitting them – let alone (as Choc emphasised with actual pride in her voice) his kicking the shit out of them there and then.
The parents of these lads were, apparently, disgusted by their sons’ behaviour (of course) and promised to punish them (“further”). I get why they don’t really blame the teacher. I don’t get why they don’t blame the school. The school has allowed an emotionally fragile man to go back to work stupidly early, knowing that he is volatile at the best of times (complaints of violence have been made, and I’ve seen him threaten, bully, generally throw his weight about and storm out in tempers over tiny things when I was taught by him). Also knowing also how cruel kids when they are together, especially when they aren’t clever kids. Still, he was allowed to be in that scenario. I’m pretty much appalled. When parents send their children to school they expect them to be safe, not to come home with bruises. Personally, I’d be complaining to all available authorities about it. Not Choc though. She’s even quite upset that the teacher lost his job…and expected me to be sympathetic. Bless her and her blinkers.
Last week Choc regaled us with an interesting tale, which, the more I think about, the madder I get. Of course she told it in her usual style – i.e. assuming without a doubt that you will share her opinion. It was as much her style as the story which annoys me.
It was the tale of how a certain teacher at our alma mater (and good friend of her father’s) came to not work there any more. Stop me if you’ve heard it. The teacher was very (very, mere days I believe) recently bereaved of a newborn baby, but insisted on going back to work, whereupon a couple of smart-arse lads, on being told off by him, started to quietly sing “Baby come back”. Which is really cruel. But does not forgive him hitting them – let alone (as Choc emphasised with actual pride in her voice) his kicking the shit out of them there and then.
The parents of these lads were, apparently, disgusted by their sons’ behaviour (of course) and promised to punish them (“further”). I get why they don’t really blame the teacher. I don’t get why they don’t blame the school. The school has allowed an emotionally fragile man to go back to work stupidly early, knowing that he is volatile at the best of times (complaints of violence have been made, and I’ve seen him threaten, bully, generally throw his weight about and storm out in tempers over tiny things when I was taught by him). Also knowing also how cruel kids when they are together, especially when they aren’t clever kids. Still, he was allowed to be in that scenario. I’m pretty much appalled. When parents send their children to school they expect them to be safe, not to come home with bruises. Personally, I’d be complaining to all available authorities about it. Not Choc though. She’s even quite upset that the teacher lost his job…and expected me to be sympathetic. Bless her and her blinkers.
Friday, March 19, 2004
Southern person,
You're the organised work type. You weren't counting on that week of exam leave to cram in all your revision, were you? And the tutors couldn't really care less if you spend that week in Timbuktu as long as you turn up to the exams in the weeks after. So, "go week beginning 26 April/it's your birthday/they'll get you a cake cos/it's your birthday".
Re the birthday politics. I wasn't going to take up Ali's offer. Just wondered what the most diplomatic way to say "actually, no, I've already decided I'm doing something on my birthday, but with nothing definite arranged, depends on a variety of factors (e.g. whether we have a kitchen) and also it's likely to be joint Ju bash cos she can't come up at any other time, and, no offence, but I don't just want to sit in a pub for my birthday"
What time will your arrival be on the friday? I am weighing up the Birthday Options:
a) there is the usual family birthday tea, avec jelly and icecream style goodness. But could be postponed to the saturday
b) bingo and karaoke
c) pub crawl
d) party (poss with fancy dress)
e) ?
You're the organised work type. You weren't counting on that week of exam leave to cram in all your revision, were you? And the tutors couldn't really care less if you spend that week in Timbuktu as long as you turn up to the exams in the weeks after. So, "go week beginning 26 April/it's your birthday/they'll get you a cake cos/it's your birthday".
Re the birthday politics. I wasn't going to take up Ali's offer. Just wondered what the most diplomatic way to say "actually, no, I've already decided I'm doing something on my birthday, but with nothing definite arranged, depends on a variety of factors (e.g. whether we have a kitchen) and also it's likely to be joint Ju bash cos she can't come up at any other time, and, no offence, but I don't just want to sit in a pub for my birthday"
What time will your arrival be on the friday? I am weighing up the Birthday Options:
a) there is the usual family birthday tea, avec jelly and icecream style goodness. But could be postponed to the saturday
b) bingo and karaoke
c) pub crawl
d) party (poss with fancy dress)
e) ?
Thursday, March 18, 2004
Southernista,
The annual birthday politics have begun: Received today:
"What do ü think about organisin a joint night out for out [sic] birthdays on the saturday between them? Just sit in a pub? What do ü think? Much love, ali xxx"
Bah. I could deal with this if she didn't insist on having those two bloody dots above the "u". "U" instead of "you" in texting is about my limit (except for space constraints, where it's every contraction for himself to keep to the single message character limit) but that bleedin' "ü"...
What is the diplomatic solution? Dammit, I hate the birthday season.
Oop norther x
The annual birthday politics have begun: Received today:
"What do ü think about organisin a joint night out for out [sic] birthdays on the saturday between them? Just sit in a pub? What do ü think? Much love, ali xxx"
Bah. I could deal with this if she didn't insist on having those two bloody dots above the "u". "U" instead of "you" in texting is about my limit (except for space constraints, where it's every contraction for himself to keep to the single message character limit) but that bleedin' "ü"...
What is the diplomatic solution? Dammit, I hate the birthday season.
Oop norther x
Tuesday, March 16, 2004
Hello Southern Gringo,
Cracked it
TB seems to have taken a single moment of my weakness very hard. This reaction seemed to ring a bell; today I discover it was my amateur psychology bell.
Remember the first time a parent disappointed you? How upsetting it was to find that they were not perfect, and were a flawed human being? I'm sensing echoes of that here.
So, it seems that the treating-me-like-dirt was a bluff, and TB thought a lot more of me than he let on.
This is much more comforting than the reslution that I am in fact a heartless beeyatch. And if he wants nothing more to do with me then it's his loss. (By the bye, he has decided to "have nothing more to do with me" on several occasions before, and has always restarted contact within weeks).
Bolton news:
The travesty of "Trinians", which was once the schooldayslegend that was Revolution, is closed, and the lease is available. Suitable location for the Salubrium, do we think?
A new takeaway has sprung up opposite Ikon.
Choc still does not understand why my mother was mad with her following the "Tequila" incident. I couldn't be bothered arguing with her at that juncture though, as I was eating potato pie and peas.
Little else changes.
Gaucho of the Northern Plains
Cracked it
TB seems to have taken a single moment of my weakness very hard. This reaction seemed to ring a bell; today I discover it was my amateur psychology bell.
Remember the first time a parent disappointed you? How upsetting it was to find that they were not perfect, and were a flawed human being? I'm sensing echoes of that here.
So, it seems that the treating-me-like-dirt was a bluff, and TB thought a lot more of me than he let on.
This is much more comforting than the reslution that I am in fact a heartless beeyatch. And if he wants nothing more to do with me then it's his loss. (By the bye, he has decided to "have nothing more to do with me" on several occasions before, and has always restarted contact within weeks).
Bolton news:
The travesty of "Trinians", which was once the schooldayslegend that was Revolution, is closed, and the lease is available. Suitable location for the Salubrium, do we think?
A new takeaway has sprung up opposite Ikon.
Choc still does not understand why my mother was mad with her following the "Tequila" incident. I couldn't be bothered arguing with her at that juncture though, as I was eating potato pie and peas.
Little else changes.
Gaucho of the Northern Plains
Monday, March 15, 2004
Southerner,
Apologies for lack of correspondence. Busy bee-ness. I require some reassurance, and apologise in advance for the huge story which may well just be a huge rant:
Question - Am I heartless, and/or a bitch?
I have been accused of the above recently (and thereby hangs the tale). The first instinctive thought was, "Well, you can't really know me then!" (thought indignantly) but then I got to thinking, well, maybe I am, but how can one tell?
The story is this.
Two Fridays ago, about 6.30 pm, I have a text conversation with This Bloke. (You may remember This Bloke as being the one who has irked me for much time). The conversation goes something like:
Me: Any plans for this evening?
TB: Yes, I'm meeting you in a seedy hotel in Birmingham.
Me: Yikes! Seriously?
TB: How soon can you get here?
Panic stations ensue. I have less than one hour to make myself clean, beautiful, pack stuff and get to the train station...but I make it. The adrenalin is pretty much rushing while I'm on the train from Bolton to Manchester; also, I have a cold so my breathing isn't good, which isn't helping my anxiety (you know I'm prone to that, don't you?) and I'm worrying about getting to the Birmingham train on time, and hoping he's not taking the piss and isn't going to meet me... Anyway, I get to Piccadilly. Thankfully the train is leaving from 13, which is where I get out, and it pulls into the rear of the platform. There's about 10 minutes till it leaves, so I get on find a seat, heart going 7 zillion to the dozen already when my phone rings...and I get the rug pulled from under my feet:
TB: Bad news. I'm not going to be able to meet you.
Me: WHat? (doing remarkably well to still be breathing)
TB: Had a phone call from sister's boyfriend. She's hurt herself and is going to hospital.
Me thinks - ? excuse?
TB: So I'm going (to York). Sorry.
Simultaneously with this last line I hear the train door making it's closing sound...
I totally freak out. I can't remember exactly what I said. I think I was saying, "are you sure you have to go? cos it might be nothing. do you know what's happened? it might just be something really minor she's getting checked out, so can you find out? you might not have to go" whilst not really being able to hear anything or think coherently. And because I have to concentrate on breathing and not crying and trying to ignore everyone staring at me on the train and finding out where the next station the train stops at is, I hang up.
And the train stops...it was only moving up the platform, thank god, so I wasn't going to be stranded in Wolverhampton or similar. I almost fall out of the train. I'm not thinking really, all I'd have to do to get home is walk down the platform to get the train back, but instead I end up walking into the main concourse. Where I meet Jenny G, completely by chance. Another thank God moment for me, cos it means I can actually start crying (you don't look half as mad crying to someone else as alone). She was really worried about me, and I tell her the tale and start to calm down. But as I calm down I start to feel incredibly guilty and convince myself that TB's sister is probably lying mortally injured somewhere. So Jenny tells me I should go to York to make sure everything is okay. I call TB and say I want to go with him to York and he more or less tells me to feck off. After about an hour I calm myself down enough to go home.
On the way I text TB and he tells me I have been incredibly insensitive. I get that I probably shouted at him at first, so I apologise, but explain that I was temporarily in shock and I was sorry. I get nothing back.
I don't sleep a wink, terrified that something really bad has happened. In the morning I ask if his sister is ok, that I worry. TB says that I don't worry at all, that's a lie.
I'm utterly confused now, and send many long texts explaining that I'm sorry for being initially nouty, but I was pretty upset (and scared) for a while. Nothing. I feel like the uberbitch, and I don't know exactly what I've done.
So for 10 days or so I've had virtually nothing out of him, and I've been totally breaking my heart over it. I don't think I often hurt or offend people, and if I even suspect I have it tears me up (for example, I was convinced I'd hurt your feelings by not coming to yours for New Year, and cried for about half a day. I'm such a wuss). So tonight I tried to find out if he was speaking to me yet.
Apparently I'm not the person he thought I was, I'm heartless, and I said "don't worry about [your sister], she'll be fine". I'm fairly confident I didn't say that, but obviously these accusations worry me. Do people see me as some cold, cruel bitch? Please be honest!
I'm going back to watch The Princess Bride again (to cheer me up) and try not to get tears on the sofa cushions.
Northerner x
Apologies for lack of correspondence. Busy bee-ness. I require some reassurance, and apologise in advance for the huge story which may well just be a huge rant:
Question - Am I heartless, and/or a bitch?
I have been accused of the above recently (and thereby hangs the tale). The first instinctive thought was, "Well, you can't really know me then!" (thought indignantly) but then I got to thinking, well, maybe I am, but how can one tell?
The story is this.
Two Fridays ago, about 6.30 pm, I have a text conversation with This Bloke. (You may remember This Bloke as being the one who has irked me for much time). The conversation goes something like:
Me: Any plans for this evening?
TB: Yes, I'm meeting you in a seedy hotel in Birmingham.
Me: Yikes! Seriously?
TB: How soon can you get here?
Panic stations ensue. I have less than one hour to make myself clean, beautiful, pack stuff and get to the train station...but I make it. The adrenalin is pretty much rushing while I'm on the train from Bolton to Manchester; also, I have a cold so my breathing isn't good, which isn't helping my anxiety (you know I'm prone to that, don't you?) and I'm worrying about getting to the Birmingham train on time, and hoping he's not taking the piss and isn't going to meet me... Anyway, I get to Piccadilly. Thankfully the train is leaving from 13, which is where I get out, and it pulls into the rear of the platform. There's about 10 minutes till it leaves, so I get on find a seat, heart going 7 zillion to the dozen already when my phone rings...and I get the rug pulled from under my feet:
TB: Bad news. I'm not going to be able to meet you.
Me: WHat? (doing remarkably well to still be breathing)
TB: Had a phone call from sister's boyfriend. She's hurt herself and is going to hospital.
Me thinks - ? excuse?
TB: So I'm going (to York). Sorry.
Simultaneously with this last line I hear the train door making it's closing sound...
I totally freak out. I can't remember exactly what I said. I think I was saying, "are you sure you have to go? cos it might be nothing. do you know what's happened? it might just be something really minor she's getting checked out, so can you find out? you might not have to go" whilst not really being able to hear anything or think coherently. And because I have to concentrate on breathing and not crying and trying to ignore everyone staring at me on the train and finding out where the next station the train stops at is, I hang up.
And the train stops...it was only moving up the platform, thank god, so I wasn't going to be stranded in Wolverhampton or similar. I almost fall out of the train. I'm not thinking really, all I'd have to do to get home is walk down the platform to get the train back, but instead I end up walking into the main concourse. Where I meet Jenny G, completely by chance. Another thank God moment for me, cos it means I can actually start crying (you don't look half as mad crying to someone else as alone). She was really worried about me, and I tell her the tale and start to calm down. But as I calm down I start to feel incredibly guilty and convince myself that TB's sister is probably lying mortally injured somewhere. So Jenny tells me I should go to York to make sure everything is okay. I call TB and say I want to go with him to York and he more or less tells me to feck off. After about an hour I calm myself down enough to go home.
On the way I text TB and he tells me I have been incredibly insensitive. I get that I probably shouted at him at first, so I apologise, but explain that I was temporarily in shock and I was sorry. I get nothing back.
I don't sleep a wink, terrified that something really bad has happened. In the morning I ask if his sister is ok, that I worry. TB says that I don't worry at all, that's a lie.
I'm utterly confused now, and send many long texts explaining that I'm sorry for being initially nouty, but I was pretty upset (and scared) for a while. Nothing. I feel like the uberbitch, and I don't know exactly what I've done.
So for 10 days or so I've had virtually nothing out of him, and I've been totally breaking my heart over it. I don't think I often hurt or offend people, and if I even suspect I have it tears me up (for example, I was convinced I'd hurt your feelings by not coming to yours for New Year, and cried for about half a day. I'm such a wuss). So tonight I tried to find out if he was speaking to me yet.
Apparently I'm not the person he thought I was, I'm heartless, and I said "don't worry about [your sister], she'll be fine". I'm fairly confident I didn't say that, but obviously these accusations worry me. Do people see me as some cold, cruel bitch? Please be honest!
I'm going back to watch The Princess Bride again (to cheer me up) and try not to get tears on the sofa cushions.
Northerner x
