Things to do

This weekend has been a pretty busy one - in a good way, though. And I still have the rest of today to go, so who knows what might happen? Possibly some shenanigans.

Anyway, it all started Friday evening when I went Sparky Ma and Pa's. Sparky Nan was over for dinner, and Big Bro had just bought a new camera, so he insisted on taking photos of me doing just about everything and anything, including reversing my car, stepping in the front door, and, and sitting in a chair. Later on Sparky Nan put on a baseball cap for a laugh and Big Bro took some photographs. She looked kind of street, particularly when she turned it around so the peak was at the back.

After dropping her home around eight, Big Bro and I went to Kingston to see Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Meth. Yeah, I know I've seen it already, but he wanted to catch it, and I enjoyed it enough to see it again. You'll be pleased to know that it holds up to a second viewing, aided perhaps by the fact that the woman sitting next to me provided added comedy value by jumping at the least scary things and whispering "shhhhhhhhhhhhhit…" under her breath when anything that had the potential to include a creepy-crawly happened.

On the way home Big Bro and I chatted about the film and how it stood up to the previous Indy movies. The conversation then turned to the name of Kate Capshaw's character in Temple of Poon, and for the life of us we couldn't remember what it was, although we knew it was a man's name. Big Bro thought it might be Steve. In an effort to ease our confusion I pulled out my iPhone and jumped onto the imdb to find out. Even though we were in the car (Big Bro's, I hasten to add) and on the move my iPhone tried to latch on to a wi-fi connection; most appear on the browser as 'BT Home Hub' or 'Mr. Smith's wi-fi,' but I was amused to find one that was just called 'F**k off you freeloader.' That made me laugh. Turns out she was called Willie.

Big Bro dropped me off at Sparky Ma and Pa's house, where I'd left my car, and I popped in to say hello again and have a wee before heading home. I hit the sack at just after one in the morning, having spent a good 10 minutes or so looking at one of my tiny cactuses in a Mexican-themed earthenware pot, which has apparently and inexplicably decided to deflate like a punctured football. Anyone know why?

I woke up at eight o'clock on Saturday morning because I'd had a card come through the door saying that the postie had tried to deliver a big package (snigger) and I'd not been in, so he was going to try again that day. The lying bastard did not, and I got up for nothing. Humph. Well, not entirely for nothing - I did take the opportunity to set up the hard drive I'd bought for my Time Machine back-ups, which was surprisingly quick and painless. 

While Time Machine did its thang, I sat and proofread some more of my book. It's going quite well, and although I did find a bit of a glaring continuity error (this is what happens when you take 16 months to write a 23,000 story) it was quickly and easily solved by cutting two lines of dialogue. I also think it works better that I've lost that little plot point because it made one of the characters who is essentially the moral core of the story seem like she was a) horrifically unsympathetic, and b) trying to accuse someone of a crime he didn't commit - a bit like The A-Team. 

With that sorted, I jumped in the car and headed back to Kingston (having only left there at 12:10 a.m.) for my annual financial review (which is usually in August, but for some reason was happening in May this year). Now, long-time readers will know that I love financial reviews, because if someone from the bank tells you you're doing OK that's like a massive pat on the back - they've got nothing to gain from telling you you're doing great, when in fact everything's illuminated by the vibrant glow of a big red minus number. Anyway, it all went well, helped by the fact that my financial advisor is a dude and we just sat shooting the shit for about 15 minutes. I convinced him to buy an iPhone, and he took the piss out of me for being four months older than him. Kids these days can be so disrespectful. On the plus side, he massively encouraged me to follow through with an idea I've got which I didn't necessarily think someone in his position would be too enthusiastic about, so that's encouraging.

Half an hour later I headed out of the bank, having been convinced to do some stuff I didn't quite understand but which all sounds good, and ended up in Waterstones where William Shatner's new autobiography was on half price (£18.99 down to £9.39!) so I had to buy a copy, if only for the comedy cover shot.

I got home around half one, had some lunch, watched Gossip Girl, proofread a bit more, then had a shower and headed over to Sparky Ma and Pa's. I had no real reason to stop in, but I like to read the Saturday newspapers, grab a cuppa with them, and watch You've Been Framed. Big Bro was still playing around with his new camera, and now has pictures of me reading the newspapers, drinking a cup of tea, and watching You've Been Framed. 

I left there at about seven-ish, and head over to Best Mate Jo's new flat. Well, I say new - she actually moved in in January, but then had to move out for a few months because the people they'd employed to build it were evidently the greatest morons ever to walk the planet, and it subsequently needed a bit more work done to it. This was actually the first time I'd seen her flat, and aside from the two holes in the ceiling where they're in the process of fixing bits, it's a wicked little place, and Jo's totally putting her own distinctive mark on it. We totally had a Changing Rooms-style discussion, though we were somewhat less flouncy than Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen, and less screechy than Linda Barker.

Oh, and Jo gave me an awesome limited-edition Hulk t-shirt.

If only I had my Hulk hands from the office…

After that we headed over to my place where I left Jo watching Britain's Got Talent (turns out it hasn't) while I got changed out of my black t-shirt and into the dapper white shirt, black tie, pinstriped waistcoat ensemble I assaulted you with in my previous post, and which I think contrasted nicely with the unshaven face above, and the scrappy jeans and converse below. Years ago, if you told me to dress-up I'd throw a massive wobbly and sulk, but these days I actually enjoy looking smart - to the point that I almost wore a tie to work the other day before deciding I simply couldn't be arsed to spend the entire day responding to questions about why I was wearing a tie.

Anyway, after surprising Jo at how long it actually does take a boy to get ready (there's one myth shattered) we headed over to Kingston (yes, that would be my third time that day) for a lovely dinner. We haven't done this in aaaaaages, and had planned this about a month ago, with the original idea being that we go to Joe Schmos, a posh American diner by the river. Joe Schmos closed, however, about two weeks ago, so we decided to brave it with the drunken hen parties in TGI Fridays. Despite many, many empty tables, however, TGI Fridays told us that they didn't have any room (now I know how Joseph and Mary felt), so we walked all the way down the other end of town (Jo by now regretting her decision to wear heels) to Frankie and Benny's. 

Frankie and Benny's told us there would be a 10 minute wait, so we hit the bar. Half an hour later, approximately the same time that we realised some people who'd come in after us had actually been seated before us, and at about the same point that we figured our stomachs actually might have started digesting themselves, we came to the conclusion that they might have forgotten about us. Fired-up on kick-ass Strawberry Daiquiri, Jo hopped off the bar stool to go kick-off at the woman by the door. Five minutes later we were in a booth, Jo having waved her finger in the woman's face and told her that we didn't just want a table, we wanted a booth, mmmkay? After that things went swimmingly.

We shared a cheesy garlic bread for a starter because we'd already looked at the dessert menu, and wanted to leave room for that. Then Jo had a sticky chicken pasta thing which looked like it was smoothered in chocolate sauce but was apparently very nice, and I had a Chicken Parmigiana Sandwich which OHMYGOD WAS TOTALLY THE BEST SANDWICH I'VE EVAH HAD! For dessert we both had cinnamon toffee waffles, which pretty much made me do a special wee. With all that awesome food rammed inside me, I briefly entertained the notion of loosening my trousers right then and there, figuring that I'd be a bit like a newsreader - i.e. posh and dapper from the waist up, but who knows what's going on down below? I aborted the idea when I realised I might not be able to do them back up afterwards, though, and I still had to get back to the car.

After that we somehow managed to stand up and walk back to the car, pausing briefly outside a still rather empty looking TGI Fridays to flip them a V. As we got back to the car, I received a text from Willowc telling me that she's finally come to the conclusion that I look like Cillian Murphy. I wasn't totally sure that was a compliment, but she assured me it was.

Twenty minutes later Jo and I rolled into her flat, where we watched a bit of Coyote Ugly and I wondered how on Earth that bar could make money when all they did was dance on the bar after setting fire to it, spray the patrons with drink, and cut off random dudes' ponytails. Just gone midnight I headed home, where, on Jo's orders, I took a picture of me looking dapper for reasons I cannot quite remember.