Octopus Prime

It's been a long old while since I last blogged the hell out this life, so belated Christmas wishes to all.

Against some pretty large odds, my work placement has transcended from being bearable at best to being borderline enjoyable. I'm actually trying really hard and it's paying off - quite like Calvin Harris' decision to retire from pop music. I've had a couple of emailed high fives from happy customers, not least a message of thanks from the university Director of Finance who likes his new under-budget office. Spiceworld.

The Estates Services Christmas 'party' definitely helped break down a few walls and aided my acceptance. Copious amounts of alcohol (free and otherwise) resulted in the following sequence of events:

• agreeing to run the Leeds Half Marathon next May
• telling the engineers that I want to be an engineer
• putting kisses on the end of texts to my boss (male)
• getting to the Vox Warehouse and 'seeing' Pulled Apart By Horses and Fucked Up
• falling asleep on the bus home and waking up on the way to Adel

It was probably for the best that I crashed rather than making it back through the snow to Hyde Park for a party.

I had a very merry happy time at the Royal Park Terrace girls' Christmas Party, where we drank, spoke of Dan's glorious glazed sausage and met some nice new people. My night was, of course, cut short by work commitments. Judging by Tom Speed's dancing tekkers which were caught on camera, I missed out on further laughter later that night.

Other Christmas shindigs of note included a d-lish meal with the Acad-army at Little Tokyo where I ate some jellyfish, made a funny joke about 'Octopus Prime' and had a few drinks on Call Lane prior to loitering outside Hifi for an hour.

Before severe loneliness set in at Hogwarts in the week leading up to the religious festivities, me and Si National Expressed it down to Nottingham to visit Sophie Goswami on her 21st birthday. Having checked in to our hostel, breaking a bed and shaking off a rather large hangover (from Cockpitting with Si, Becca and Phil the night before), Alan took us to So Go's for some champagne, Cee-Lo and cheer.

Stealth/Rescue Rooms was our destination for the night, which was up there with the best British clubs I've been to. Soph introduced me to her friend Rosamund Hanson who plays 'Smell' in 'This is England' where she proceeded to attack me with glitter. I've always had a bit of a thing for Smell, so having a slow dance with Ros towards the night's end made me particularly happy.


Yey.

So. Christmas. Christmas Steve itself is always (and was) a good night in our native Halifax. There's many a face from yesteryear to greet and being dragged to 'Liquid' is all part of the fun. The night ended with me and Steph eating marmite on toast on the kitchen floor chatting what can only be described as 'utter bollocks'.

Only nursing a slight hangover, Christmas Day turned out to be ever so nice. My mum's side of the family play their part in some terrific, actual, Yorkshire banter which is always most welcome. Gift-wise, I got a bad ass uber-zoomy camera from the rentals - which I'm very pleased with.

For the first time in a long time, I've had no academic or paid work to do from Christmas Steve to going back on the 4th January - so filling time has proved tricky. I've kept well on top with music and film, downloading and attempting to discover.

Musically, I've been listening to a lot of Janelle Monae and The Joy Formidable, whilst I'm absol... no, ABSOLUTELY loving a band called Phantogram.

Phantogram - When I'm Small (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CBwFPOJGCT0)

Film-wise, I finally got round to watching 'Battle Royale' which, of course, messed me up for a few days after (if you haven't seen it, a class of students are captured by the Japanese Government and forced to kill each other). I've also enjoyed 'The A-Team' (I know, right?!), 'Grown Ups', the new Family Guy Star Wars film, 'It's a Trap', 'How to Train Your Dragon' (ama-ZING) and a cracking little Irish animation called 'The Secret of Kells' (where you'll recognise the voice of Brendan Gleeson from In Bruges and being Mad-Eye Moody).

The Secret of Kells (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tMPhHTtKZ8Q)

I wish you all a very happy and pwosperous new year - I'm very much looking forward to bringing in the new year with some legendary Leedsies at Wax On.

Peas and Dove

x

London is the Reason

It's been yet another rather chaotic few weeks for me and the increasing number of voices in my head. I've taken in some fun and games, said some goodbyes and finally got some scheduled family time in.

It had been a long while since seeing messrs Christine and Nigel and I had begun to long for a bit of a motherly hug. So spending a weekend at home which comprised of fish, chips, Sky TV, the said Mum and Dad, illegal downloading, Brooke Hobson and Michael Lund was most welcome.

I made sure I was a part of Jimmy Eat World's Leeds date at the O2 Academy, which was totally awesome. They didn't, however, (in the words of Alonzo Harris in Training Day) 'have shit' on Gallows at The Well on Wednesday 24th.
Being the hip and punctual pairing, me and Andy Fairweather made it down early (ish) to catch 'Dead Swans' do some Brighton-hardcore stuff which was nowhere near my cup of tea, but I was fascinated enough watching their onstage ADHD-esque energy and the swelling crowd kicking the Paloma Faith out of each over.

We were still in the bar when Gallows entered the stage. We quickly downed our drinks, said our 'goodbyes' and 'good-lucks' and mazed through the packed out minuscule function room to the impending mayhem.

I timed my first crowd-surf to perfection, being airborn just as the opening cries of "MAYDAY, MAY-DAY" filled the room during 'Abandon Ship'. Soon enough however, I was dumped on the speaker at the bassists feet and finally managed to struggle to my own.

Despite my relative skill in the crowd surf, I have noticed that I can no longer hack circle pits, going down within seconds in my last 3 attempts. Whether it's my complete lack of agility, poor planning, or slippery floors, I can't last longer than around 6 seconds before I am buried beneath a sweaty mound of human mass.

It was a special gig. Andy lost his beloved Cancer Bats t shirt in the excitement, but was more than compensated for by small stage invasion, a chat with the bassist (fundamentally about how they played ping pong with Rage Against the Machine) and the purchase of 4 t-shirts between us.

It was nice to see that the student protests were relatively calm in Leeds. I know of one girl who was arrested for grafitti-ing (albeit in easily removed snow paint) on Broadcasting Place but it looked like it was dick head-free in the main. I did, however, feel sick to my stomach when I read about the innocent Motorhead fan being murdered to death after their gig at the 02 Academy.

Speaking of which, I've been allocated a very much Manchester-themed December at the 02 with Cast, James and Courteeners gigs to facilitate and enjoy.

Hogwarts got awfully festive on Friday night. After watching the footage from last year's infamous 235 (Hyde Park Road) Halloween Party, the snow started to fall heavily which left no other option to hold Holly Andrews (along with the late arriving Alan, her sister Laura and boyf Joe) captive, light lots of candles and drink and sing the night away.

My personal highlight was pretty obv:

Reuben - Christmas is Awesome (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wH2umxtA_sc)

After 4 hours sleep, I managed to sneak back downstairs into Adam's flat and finally got tickets to see Blink-182 tickets for next Summer. If you need a job doing...

Sunday saw me mainly lying in bed watching two incredible films. Firstly I watched A Town Called Panic (Panique au Village), where animated plastic toys are hilarious and French. Think Cravendale Milk meets A Series of Unfortunate Events via brief excursion to Amsterdam.

A Town Called Panic (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iY55bTlZJEE)

Secondly, Scott Pilgrim vs The World blew my mind. I liked it so much that I'm in a bit of a dark place right now, not really accepting that life isn't like that. Edgar Wright and Michael Cera continue to make me rethink a few basic principles.

So. Things coming up: seeing best-good-friend-slice Reid in a couple of weeks, seeing Pulled Apart By horses, Simian Mobile Disco and fwiends, work Christmas parties (University employment still sucks by the way) and probably more Christmas music.

I will leave you with this amazing song. It is dedicated to James Styler, as it's his birthday today. Yey.

JJ72 - Snow (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_QNYj61wMRI)

x

P.S. I can't make the links work and I really need a wee.

Children of Nothing, This is Our Song

It would have taken something pretty spethal to have bettered last year’s Halloween which was spent shaking the rafters of the infamous ‘235’ house on Hyde Park Road – but golly gosh, spethal it has been.

My Halloween began somewhat mixed. Having been put on Foals’ guest list for their gig at the 02 Academy, I decided to take advantage and take a girl out on, like, a date.

Bail fail!

I wasn’t too downbeat however as I was convinced that shifting a free ticket to see Foals would have been easier than making Simon Lawrenson’s dog, Dylan, chase his own tail. Not for the first time, I was misled by my heart and head and couldn’t shift the ticket for love, money or anything in between.

I had my hair cut and everything too. Cut to the shortest length it’s been in 5 wonderful, hairy years, I immediately regretted my decision having felt the icy winds smothering my noggin.

The silver lining of this particular cloud (date fail) led me to the Library to see the beautiful Alli Phelps and her Hunting Bears – It was a hell of a fall back. I saw them at the back end of last term and was once a-bloody-gain impressed with the atmospheric, melodic and simply heart-warming sounds that filled the room. T’was brilliant. Their gig at the Brudenell on December 6th will be absolutely amazing.

www.myspace.com/huntingbearsband

Myself, Tom, James, Adam and Dan carried on the Cockpit where some obscure and sweaty shapes were launched, some drinks consumed, chips were eaten and dens were made…well, for one lucky member of the posse, that is.

Home to Hogwarts. Sonic. Marble Zone. Done.

Saturday saw me make a spontaneous decision to go watch Huddersfield play with Gary Wood, which was unusually enjoyable. Building on fun with siblings, I made it back to Leeds in time to meet my sister Steph at the Library. I never realised how I’ve barely (if ever) actually mentioned her in a blog before, which is wholeheartedly regrettable. This girl….THIS girl…is something special. Never before has anyone been so academically remarkable with being able to party as hard as Andrew WK circa 2002. It was so, so good to see her. I’ll hopefully have her back in Leeds and dancing by the disabled lift at Stylus in no time.

Emily hosted a freaking awesome Halloween party on Saturday night which could have only been better if me and Sara (Crawford, legend) managed to drop the Monster Mash. I dressed up as Black Frost from The Mighty Boosh’s Tundra episode, which only one person (in well over a thousand I met that night) recognised. I was, however, one icy bastard.

Saw the fucking Cancer Bats on Sunday didn’t I? The gig has long been the staple arrangement in the diaries of The Andes, Adam and myself and after being well and truly entertained by Newcastle Utd and Titus Bramble (bless) in the pub, we headed down t’Cockpit with Si – a new addition to the line up. They were absolutely ridiculous. Flippin’ farcical. Adam, Si and I stuck around to rattle our brains around at Slam Dunk for a few hours after and met the Cancer Bats guitarist, Scott Middleton (unbelievable tekkers).

Top, top weekend.

The neck pain lasted until around Wednesday where I loosened it up nodding along to Avenged Sevenfold at work. They had an arena stage setup and the sound and lights were as good as I can remember at the Academy.

A7x - God Hates Us
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z_ua8UyqGa4

I’m more than a little excited as to the return of Alan Partridge and found I was chortling along to Rob Brydon (I still always want to call him Keith Barrett) and Coogan’s ‘The Trip’ on BBC 2 on Monday night. I couldn’t help but think the idea behind it was to showcase Rob Brydon’s unbelievable impressionism tekkers but I considered myself well and truly tickled.

Bonfires. I’m going to go to Hyde Park and look at one with some people I like tonight. I’ve not been to one in around 5 years for reasons of workload, foul moods, hazardous weather conditions and the belief that bonfires are when all said and done…welll…a bit shit.

Nevertheless, I’m game for some flame. Like this guy:

The Crazy World of Arthur Brown - Fire
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NOErZuzZpS8

Good day x

Unbelievable Tekkers

So I haven't blogged for a while. And? Fernando Torres and Wayne Rooney haven't scored for a while (on the pitch) but that doesn't mean...hang on. I'm not too sure where I'm going with this, so I'll move on.

The last 2 weeks have shot past me in a furious blur, leaving me pretty startled and clutching at any thread of reality I can. Work has been pretty hectic both at the university and the O2 Academy.

Somewhat terrifyingly, I've been responsible for spending around 4-figures of the university's money and can't help but think that people like me are at fault for rising tuition fees. So, soz and that.

I am however struggling to come out of my shell at the moment. It's all a bit serious and concentration levels rarely allow for humour. Well. That and the fact I'm sat in the far corner of a large office, nearly hanging out of the fourth floor window.

At the Academy, I endured a set from MGMT who, to be frank (you can be Bob), put on what has to be one of the dullest performances I've ever seen. It was flat and lifeless, much like slug who just didn't see that size 9 coming. One word; Dog. Shit.

On the plus side, the Academy celebrated it's second anniversary by giving me, the bar staff and the box office crew free beer and a pretty memorable Groove Armada show. Despite the crowd being full of Moby look-a-likes and their career-woman girlfriends, they got down with the brilliant live set.

Brandon Flowers also shone last Thursday. I've been more than a smidge unforthcoming with Brenda's solo stuff, but sweet child of mine did he put on a show. He meant every word that bellowed from his Mormon mouth and was only fuelled further by the 1,500 screams from the teenage girls populating the area surrounding him.

The highlights of the last fortnight or so, without doubt in my fried mind, have been the Musicology nights at Faversham. I was pished enough to barely remember a brief liaison with a fellow DJ Yoda fan but recall the night to be a strong, strong family outing. So much so, it would have taken something pretty special from Mr Scruff and Andy Fairweather's eagerly anticipated birthday party to outshine our night with Yoda.

Luckily for us, 'special' was well and truly on the menu last Friday.

Despite the odd ticket worry (for Adam, Emily and JP - who travelled up ticket-less from Bristol to surprise his bestest friend Andy - which he did), Andy was lucky enough to have a huuuuuge contingency in his company who more than contributed to celebrating his 21st birthday in quite some style.

It's been just lovely knowing Andy, although I do find it a little weird that I met two of my closest friends by chatting them up in bars. Bizarre non?

My good friend and fellow idiot Matthew had his second child a couple of weeks ago - so hello to Charlie Fletcher Hodgins and congratulations again to Matt and Jess. It was at their house early on Sunday October 3rd when I first met the wee man and sat down to take on the pretty flawed Glastonbury ticketing system. After 4 or 5 fruitless hours, Andy Wightman M.B.E once again stepped up to the plate and scored me a ticket. One day, there will be a statue of the said Wightman in Pudsey. One day...

Glastonbury 2011. Yey.


I had a chance meeting with Cold Feet actor James Nesbitt at the Hyde Park pub yesterday evening. He and his less-than-attractive lady friend followed myself, Alan and Becca outside waving my hoody aloft thinking that I'd left it inside by accident. I had, obviously, left it there purposely (with half a pint) to mark our territory. He apologised for taking our seats and it was all very pleasant.

Still...fucking actors.

Who Would Live in a Club Like This?

Despite the all-too-quick onset of nippy Autumn time, it's so, so good to have Leeds buzzing with students once again.

I hope some of the new students read my pretty ill-informative men's fashion article which was published last Monday in the Leeds Met student newspaper, Leeds On. It got a pretty decent reaction so I was quite chuffed...although it was a bit silly.

I must admit, I thought I was going to have a shocker of a Freshers Week with facing the potent and often harmful combination of early mornings and the required 8 hours of intense, daily concentration. Alas, I was wrong.

After a lovely football/curry weekend at home-home, I returned to Hogwarts via an evening at the Hyde Park with a crowd including Dan Pittaway, Holly Andrews, Emily Callendar and Amy Alford whom I have missed like a motherbitch.

Monday was a bit of a fail. I was like, totally psyched to go see Silver Hips DJ at the Leeds Met Freshers Party with 5ive (well, two of 'em) and Diana Knickers but with Liam's guesty full, a £17.50 admission fee was out of t'question.

I actually managed a night out on Tuesday, making it down for a smashing evening at Faversham for Moustache. Despite the hoot I blatantly was having, I was a smidge disappointed with the weight of the music...it just wasn't heavy enough. Bah. I had thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis much fun though.

Wednesday was a special day. Having been stood up for a date (with a girl), I called Andy Wightman to learn of his whereabouts and went to meet him at the G8's Bridge and Bodge's new gaff. Here, the girls of significant characteristic, teeth and hair qualities prepared a delicious Lebanese chicken dinner for the four of us. We were reaching levels of civilisation that had never before been reached in Hyde Park. It was proper nice. We went t'Brudenell afterwards for a nice drink.

After a night in on Thursday, filled with 3 episodes of Black Books, 2 episodes of Absolutely Fabulous and Four Lions (Loved. It.), it was time to re-embark on the Cockpit with Alan, Andy Fairweather, Bridge, Bodge, Adam and Si.

Adam and Si have been somewhat heroic through Freshers Week. With Si in a similar position to myself (he too has a work placement at university), you might have expected him to take it easy and make sure he's in good form for work the next day. However. Si's not only a Scouser, he is a lad and he braved it out with Adam every night - from Saturday to Saturday. Fully. Blown. Lads.

It was the main event on Saturday night. Waxopolis finnaly arrived with Doorly, Toddla T, Krafty Kuts, Nero, Fake Blood, Calvin Harris (ahem) and Eskimo Twins providing the soundtracks to our night. Despite even going as far as drawing a picture of Calvin Harris being hanged at work, his electro set was really impressive and the numerous Alvin Horace's in the crowd made good entertainment. It was an amazing night with each and every one of us on good form - not least Andy Wightman. His antics on the walk back to Bridge and Bodge's in particular will stay in my little head for a long time.

Back at Bridge and Bodge's, we drank tea, laughed some more and began my 15 hour stay in a onesie. Good work everyone.

I'm sat here with the strange and slightly embarrassing feeling of being the last member of staff in the office and with starting work at the MGMT gig tonight in 15 minutes, I think I best get out of here.

Love love x

For God's Sake, Gary

Morning Campers! The uplifting sign that watched over us Red Campers at Bestival already seems a whole child ago. Getting my less-than-manly hands on a ticket was touch and go for a while and began to fear that Bestival-ing was not the will of the Gods...the batty creases.

As it happened, I came across an upstanding gentleman in the Brighton metropolopolis on Facebook and called in the G8.

Let me explain what the G8 is. The G8 is a group who know that when you put another man's cock in your mouth, you make a pact. A bond that cannot be broken. It's a unit that is so dedicated that it will get down on its knees and put your cock right in their mouth. Putting the 'U.N' in FUN, the G8 are a select and good looking bunch of homeslices from Brighton who I've had the pleasure of meeting through me mate Andy Fairweather.

Named after a Reading campsite, the G8 is a group made up of the "blessed few that have suckled upon the sweet nectar that is 'Bodger's Goon' and experienced the fun and love that G8 brings to each and every one of its lucky members" (Fairweather, 2010, JP-edia).

The G8 were kind enough to meet the upstanding gentleman in Brighton and fix me up whilst looking sharp.

Andy Wightman C.B.E. was obviously legendary enough to drive the two of us down to Brighton in preparation for the early morning venture across the Solent. After 5 hours of verbal encouragement to the midnight motorway workers, wee-weeing in McDonalds car parks and some questionable (and strong) iPod action, we finally arrived in Andy's arms and prepared to mix it up with East Grinstead's insomniacs at Tesco.

After 3 hours sleep we were up and away to Portsmouth to catch the hovercraft.

When I was a nipper, I used to have a toy hovercraft which used to reap havoc by roaming around the streets on my felt traffic mat and I've well wanted a go on one ever since.

We were expecting queues at the port. I mean, there were 50,000 people embarking on the Isle of Wight(man) in the space of day. However, we remained fairly upbeat upon being told that one of the hovercraft engines had gone west and that we were facing a 4 hour wait. We had some beer, some good company and glorious sunshine but I was soon starting to hemorrhage enthusiasm.

10 hours after joining the queue, we were pitched (or popped in my case) and ready to do exactly what comes before Part B. As a fan of nuts, here is Bestival in a nutshell. It's a cracker:

• Laying some outstanding dance foundations during Dan Le Sac and being snapped by Topsho...man
• Building on these foundations to become borderline outrageous during Simian Mobile Disco
• March of the Penguins II, Ellie Goulding and the darn paparazzi
• Vi-freaking-talic and his amazing lightshow (pictured below exuding from the Big Top Tent in t'background)
  
  
• Increasingly naked penguins getting sweaty with High Contrast
• A joyful Leeds crew with the ever-amazing DJ Yoda at Arcadia
• Some warped late night helter-skelter fun with JP, Speed, Hannah and Harriet
• A not-so-secret Bombay Bicycle Club gig and Liam telling me to pipe down...bitch
• Losing things/everything
• Whipping cream adventures
• Scavenging in the post-festival landfill

I've tried proper hard to find out who it was that had a blinder after Ellie Goulding and who it was that came all the way from Paris, France with some funky brilliance (and choreography to boot) who rocked the Sailor Jerry arena on Friday, but I've had no luck - the Bestival website is tote whack and I do not care for it one bit.

Despite some magnificent musical highlights, it was this tune that Andy Wightman had me humming on my way back to reality:

DJ Fresh - Gold Dust (http://www.youtube.comwatch/?v=RNuUgbUzM8U)

Reality then. It hasn't been so bad.

Having stolen a leather couch and failed to cram it through our flat door, I arrived home to find Si in his trademark foetal position and the said couch sitting proudly on our poorly-fitted laminate floor. Si and his papa had successfully squeezed it through, which was, y'know, good.

Without doubt, the highlight of my abseil back to reality was seeing Holly and Alan for the first time since returning from Glastonbury. Having eaten numerous sandwiches and a quiche already, the girls, Si and I headed to Frankie and Benny's for a car crash of a meal (warm beer, cold food, half-hearted pizza toppings). After checking out a pretty pish cinema listing, we decided to have a couple of frames of bowling and further giggles. Many of the giggles were directed towards some questionable techniques employed by the girls. They're awesome.

I won both games using children's balls.

I managed to get out of working the Barenaked Ladies gig in order to jam with the famalam and take in some football and curry (LAD) before probably heading to bed around 8:30pm on Sunday night, where dreams of Freshers Week will mock me close to tears.

Barenaked Ladies - One Week (www.youtube.com/watch?v=fC_q9KPczAg&ob=av2e)

I will leave you with some of the wisest words you will ever hear slurred at a festival. Late last Thursday night, probably arm in arm, JP turned to me and said;

"You can't sore like an eagle if you hang around with pigeons".

Get flapping people x

Frosties are just Cornflakes for people who can't face reality

As I sit here with a cup of nettle tea, watching England play their football-stuff with my ulcer lingering behind my bottom lip, I have a bizarre and often-elusive feeling of satisfaction. For I am a full time worker. I'm a careerist. I'm a young professional. Come to think of it, I think I'm going to vom.

A long time coming it has been, but I finally began my year-long placement as Student Project Manager within Estate Services at Leeds Met University on Tuesday. After completely cacking myself (to a point where I could only muster one full spoon of Crunchy Nut Cornflakes (Frosties for wankers)) on my first morning, I've slowly begun to think that, actually, I was right - this year is going to be plop.

I've somehow found myself in a position where I have a big reputation to live up to. This added pressure of not letting anyone down and doing a ruddy bloody good job could well turn me all Cobainy. That said, this year is probably the making of my future life/career and 52 weeks of ZERO fun is a small price to pay for what I'm sure will be...wait...oh yes: a whole lifetime of stress, anxiety, bewilderment, frustration, confusion and downright...meh.

I'm sure it'll be alright. If I listen to this every morning, I might just make it through...

The Streets - Turn the Page (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=flt1I1U74h4)

Last weekend was fucking incredible.

My Leeds Festival experience was one shared by Si who, despite being a couple of years younger than me, grew up with the Blink 182's and the Limp Bizkit's of this world that shaped our lives. Having met up with our friend Sean and significant others, I met up with one of my bestest home girls Alice Marns (titties) to see Los Campesinos! (who were brilliant as ever) and a modicum of Wild Beasts before mooching down to the main stage to set up camp for the day. What a day. Limp Bizkit. Whoah.

Opening with Rollin' (with the all important 'Air Raid Vehicle' bracketed), they ripped through another 7 tracks including My Generation, Break Stuff (chin the Pope - consider my head blown) and Faith, it was my highlight of my late Summer - and that's saying something. We 'chilled' during Cypress Hill, got over-involved during Weezer, stared at Hayley during Paramore and got all emotional, shouty and extra crowd-surfy during Blink 182. Despite being drunk enough to end up in a vintage dress wandering around the fesitival till 6am, it was one of the most memorable days.

I'd also like to quickly express my gratitude to Becca for showing a cracking time in t'Lakes the weekend previously. As perfect-a-weekend away I'll probably ever have. There was wine, comfort, Michelin-star pub lunches, romantic boat rides on Windermere, fish and chips on the estuary, Kendal nightlife and tea-drinking (and The Expendables - what the flip was that about?). It was just what I needed.

Thanks also go to The Andes who put me up at theirs for a few nights before they headed to Reading and I headed to Hogwarts to get moved in. Despite a few teething problems i.e. where oh where was my hot water?, things are starting to look good.

Muse and Editors at Old Trafford tomorrow...bring on the beer queues and spine tingles.

Join me next time where I'll be contemplating Project Management-induced self harming and hopefully, Bestival.

Schimon x

P.S. It's not quite me doing Karaoke in Bulgaria, but hell it will do for me!:

Limp Bizkit - Break Stuff (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_9zpAWFFKQ&feature=fvsr)

P.P.S We should totally cover this video.

G-ma in da House

Grandma said these things happen in threes. After smashing her coffee plunger (for one) this morning and with the 'insurance people' still to come, I couldn't help but sense the onset of immense miserableness wasn't far away. Sure enough, because the robbing scamps didn't actually beat me to death and spread me around in various Hyde Park bins, I won't be getting any moolah from Churchill for the £600 worth of my worldly possessions that I lost. I'm still awaiting number three, although learning that I'll probably never see my beloved grey hoody again is making my larynx ache as if I'm about to cry. New rule: Simon does not lend out favoured garments. Ever.

The worst part of all this added expense is that I'll be forced to continue fixing my clothes with duct tape. It's becoming all a bit ridiculous - quite like being very aroused by both Rihanna and a girl at Glastonbury who were dressed like/looked JUST like Slash.

Woof?

Aside from my misery business, my good friend Si (professional lad, has an iMac) and I finally sorted a flat to live happily ever after in. Living above friends Tom, James and Adam on the top floor of a miniature Hogwarts in Headingley's outskirts, we are green lit to some mega-fun times ahead. The landlord has already started preparing the flat to our pretty mediocre standards and will be moved in by the time I start my placement; the thought of which constantly lingers and chills me to my very core. Euuurgh.

It would also appear that I have fended off the fiends of Rent Inc. who launched some pretty outrageous charges at me after moving out of my old flat on Hyde Park Road. Being British, I sent a strongly-worded email to tell them just what I thought and signed off my email with, "given the circumstances, I trust that the invoice will be rescinded and no future correspondence will be required". Nearly a month on, it's gone a bit quiet over there. Still, I do wish I'd have walked into the office and unleashed some mayhem. Maybe throw a chair. Maybe model myself on this chap and really mess with their heads:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=tTFOncppkJg

Myself and a few friends spent a few days visiting my beloved friend Reid (fan of weather, liquid drum and bass and moving as far away from home as possible) in Exeter at the weekend, which was just lovely. It was cracking to spend some time with him and what's left of his beautiful locks. In a nutshell:

• We went bowling which was fun and then irritating.


• I threw the ball into my knee because I'd been drinking.


• I saw a swan fly into a bridge

• Reid's girlfriend Helen has an awesome new bob


• Everyone said the word 'titties' at least 7 times.


• We drank Desperado's in a bar where you couldn't stand up.
  

• I unleashed a fierce comeback, suggesting my friend Matt (married, entertaining, arsehole) had fat fingers.

With having Grandma (G-ma) insist I watch Who Do You Think You Are? with her whilst and Mum insisting I download Plan B for her to linedance to, home time has been less than exciting. A trip to Kendal to see everyone's favourite redhead, Becca this weekend will provide me with some cultural interest and escape the absolute mundanity of this weird vortex in Cleck-Hudders-Fax...wherever the hell this place is. Bring on the cheese and cracker-thon, red wine, locals, scenery and children's playground for a midnight swing (although I fear it won't be quite the same without Holly):

Holly Andrews: Spethal

I'm looking forward to going to Wax:On at the end of September. With Fake Blood, Nero, Krafty Kuts and Boy 8 Bit to name but four acts to excite the pants off me, it promises to be a night we'll all be hopefully talking about in the year(s) to come. With Muse (Old Trafford), Cancer Bats (Cockpit) and Gallows (Joseph's Well) to follow, things are shaping up real swell from now 'till the next religious holiday.

I've been seeing a lot written about Caribou recently, which I'm pleased about. I saw him and his amazing live act at Pukkelpop in 2008 and is fast becoming another increasingly badly-kept secret - which is no bad thing I suppose. I like anything centering around live drumming and distinctly remember Caribou (Dan Snaith) dropping his guitar and picking up his sticks in a building drum rhythm that was totally compelling, trippy and atmospheric. 'Melody Day' is my bestest song:

Caribou - Melody Day (www.youtube.com/watch?v=QklfmJ4vfLs)

Best buddy Michael and I are hoping to catch Leeds' Dinosaur Pile-Up in October if funds/babysitters permit. Despite me being a bit slow on the uptake, they've impressed me very much and can't wait for their album release. Do you like apples? You do? Well, how do you like these apples?:

Dinosaur Pile-Up - Birds and Planes (www.youtube.com/watch?v=qg4u2RjuXio)

This track gives me a cracking screw-face. Lovely stuff.

Schimon x

It's Just Like Watching The Bill

Having spent a happy and relatively rape-free year in LS6, the criminals of Hyde Park (who flock from all over the UK like elephants to a watering hole) finally caught up with me in the early hours of Saturday 7th August.


Having watched Youth in Revolt (a superb film with not one but two Michael Cera characters - cashback) with only my second Crispy pizza of the week, I was looking forward to a nice long sleepy-sleep in preparation for a whole lot of nothing much the next day.

Having fallen asleep, I was awoken at 3am having felt some sense that something wasn't quite right - I couldn't decipher whether it was a noise or whether I just felt a presence in my room. Either way, I woke up staring at a dark, blurry shadow crouched down beside my bed.

Dazed and confused, I asked who they were and what they were doing (I should have asked for some ID and what their career goals were while I was at it) before it became all too apparent who they were and what they wanted. Shitsticks - I was in trouble.

The man told me to "shut the fuck up" which I thought was very rude and (having already tendered to taking my laptop) ordered me to give him the related charger. The man then asked me for my phone. Now, this phone had been in my life since the early 21st century and shared with it a pretty special bond and for this reason I was pretty reluctant to hand it over. "Please don't take the phone", I said. "It's worthless, it's a piece of shit, it's not worth anything".

This plea didn't go down too well, I must say. From this desperation, two more dark, blurry shadows entered the room with more barks of "shut the fuck up", this time with the addition of "or I'll smash your face in", before an empty bottle of Smirnoff was waved in my direction. The vodka bottle was then thrust in my face and I was told to "get down and don't look up". By this point, I decided it was probably definitely best for me to do as they say.

So they carried on looking around the room, asking where my money and wallet were whilst the Smifnoff bottle was continuing to make an imprint in the back of my head. Although they didn't believe me when I said I didn't have any money and didn't own a wallet, they soon gave up searching around the room and choosing not to kill me or bum me, they left in a bit of a stuttery anti-climax.

It had been a pretty naff end to what had been another wonderful week of whacky goings on. From breaking into Adam's (karma?) to make him a cup of tea and start up Pro Evo to being wingman of the year and from a debaucherous night at Crisis to alter-egos called Felix, life was just swell.


Adam and I sampled Hifi last Sunday and in the process discovered a chap called Jack Flash. Performing alongside The Rob Durbin Trio, Jack had a killer tongue on him and got the crowd going right from the start. I later discovered he is a World Freestyle champion hailing from Huddersfield and is well worth a listen:

Jack Flash - Strength to Strength (www.youtube.com/watch?v=Peoinappugg)


I'd love to say that it was Jack who stole the show, who also took part in an impromptu MC battle after closing, but it was the sheer volume of outrageously beautiful girls who made up the clientele. Dear oh dear.

I went down to possibly Leeds' worst musical venue on Wednesday to lean on on a pool table and peer behind a poorly placed column to watch Loose Talk Costs Lives. Featuring in the NME Glastonbury Special, they're described as 'skittish angular pop with math-rock heart' and do somewhat live up to Foals/Vampire Weekend comparisons. There's an underlying technical tightness throughout the band with a good onstage chemistry and energy which makes them ever-so-easy on the eye. Best of all, their songs are so freaking catchy (www.myspace.com/loosetalkcostslivesuk).

Post Loose Talking at Elbow Rooms, it was home to check out Luke's newly recorded track with i swim with sharks, as well as welcoming Loose Talk's James and Liam into our musical den which to discuss the gig, The Gallows (whom I definitely have a ticket for their Joseph's Well gig in November) and how James had become so grey.

On another brave adventure which almost warped my musical genre-dar beyond repair, there were more new artists sent my way than I could have swung a self-defensive baseball bat at. A chap called Ash Grunwald is one cool mothertrucker and his track 'Mojo' was no doubt my find of the night. I like to think if it as Seasick Steve joining Jamiroquai, locking Jay Kay in a cupboard and getting Cee-Lo Green from Gnarls Barkley and Prince to throw something down together (www.myspace.com/ashgrunwald). I figure this track could stop any would-be thieves in their tracks as their primary focus would shift to getting their funk on.

Luke's aforementioned new track with i swim with sharks 'Just Be Good' can be very much enjoyed at www.myspace.com/iswimwithsharksofficial.

Having spent much of the day with the po-lice on Saturday and feeling a bit chod, I decided that the only thing that could cheer me up was to give myself a handlebar moustache. With the people around me not even noticing 'till late Sunday, that too was a bit of a failure. However, along with some increasingly large sideburns and long hair, I'm slowly morphing into someone who could have so easily been in Beastie Boys' Sabotage video - which I like.

When There's a Will, There's a Gay

I should probably begin this blog by apologising to the lovely Emily who is letting me stay in her house whilst I fix myself a more permanent residency. I didn't mean to come across as ungrateful whilst bemoaning the lack of internet. Thanks for having me Ems! At the end of the day, y'know, when all is said and done...it gets dark.

Last weekend brought with it a tour of some of Leeds' mid-top-end drinking establishments with best buddy Michael and girlfriend Lizzy which (via some System of a Down-induced moshing) ultimately resulted in crawling out Leeds Academy in utter ruin before heading to Temple Newsam the following day for 'Party in the Park'.

It's long been a tradition of mine and my friends to attend these free open-air pop concerts, where subversive mocking, drinking and the opportunity to earn some 'lad points' have been the order of play. It also allows brother Gary to carry on his fine work in the letching department (see Bulgaria...Fuck Yeah!). Along the way, we've seen the likes of Liberty X, McFly and Beverley Knight multiple times. I hate, I HATE Beverley Knight. She's absolutely bab and makes me want to punch her in the armpit really hard.

Highlights included Example (nice jacket), Frankie from The Saturdays (woof!), Professor Green (who I'm quite interested to see what happens without his sampling - I like his voice), Vanessa Amorosi (who sang 'Absolutely Everybody' in 2000...no?) and Basshunter ("Leeds! Let's fucking paaaarty!", he exclaimed before getting 50,000 children to bounce with him. Fair play to him, the mad Swede/German/Fin/Dane). Without doubt though, Craig David was the star of the show - he was absolutely cosmic! Having ripped up 7 Days, Fill Me In and Walking Away, he launched into 2 explosive minutes of freestyle (well, rehearsed) spitting and genuinely pulled it off. I was all like, "no way!" and Craig David was all like, "yeah - check me out. Peas!".

Craig David - Fill Me In (www.youtube.com/watch?v=jdcmM9T8vD4&feature=avmsc2)

Despite the fun, even the bottle of vodka that I smuggled in via my skinny chords (!) wasn't quite enough to help us power through acts like The Script, Tinchy Stryder and a Blue reunion (of sorts - that tit 'Lee' and the fat one were on stage together) which prompted brother Gary to claim it was they who sang 'Blue-Da-Ba-Dee' (www.youtube.com/watch?v=68ugkg9RePc). What a spaz.

After seeing 'Frankie and The Saturdays', it was time to make like Michael Jackson and beat it (Watts, A., 2010) before Dizzee Rascal entered the fray (as in he came on stage - not as in raping the whiney, sappy piano-'rocking' band - that I would pay to see).

My week also saw me sporting a handlebar moustache that could have meant the end for Motorhead's Lemmy, although I decided it was best kept between me and the bathroom for now. I'm not sure the world is ready for it just yet, especially with Lemmy and Motorhead about to embark on another UK tour.

The best news of the week came from America, where Kings of Leon were forced offstage during a gig in St Louis due to pigeons making poos on them. This made me giggle. Although I was extremely jealous of the pigeons in question, they did a pretty good job and nearly landed a bullseye in the drummer's mouth. Call it comeuppance for just about everything after Leeds/Reading '07.

I really hope the Followhills find their way back to awesomeness and lose the singing lessons and sleigh-bells that have frankly made them look a bit silly. They blatantly just need their handlebar moustaches and facial hair back, along with a sprinkling of a gentle S.T.I. each. If that doesn't help, it's blatantly Jesus' fault.

Whilst I was in the biggest queue I've ever been in at a cinema, I was starting to feel a bit nervy about seeing Toy Story 3. I kept seeing people's statuses about it Facebook and how it was immensely sad and how they had sat cradling themselves in the corner wondering, "what's the point of it all?". My scepticism increased when an inconsolable 8-year-old was being comforted by his mother outside the cinema doors...

As it turned out, I really loved the film and was well worth the wait. There were certainly emotional scenes towards the film's conclusion but nothing to make me boo like the end of 'Big Fish' does. The additional new characters were just lovely and fitted in perfectly (yey), whilst Mr Potato Head had me absolutely creased with additional cheek-cramp during the part where...erm...best not.

I was finally welcomed into 2010 by getting myself on Spotify (thanks again Jenny Mitchell). I was initially a bit frustrated with its inconsistent behaviour in picking and choosing which music I was able to upload (it wouldn't let me upload any Cribs or Queens of the Stone Age, which I'm sure you'll agree is grossly unfair) but I'm am now enjoying the fruits of my labour. I've not felt this satisfied since the last night of Glastonbury when I finally managed to make use of my duct tape by strapping Andy up in his sleeping bag. That was a good night.

My user name is 'newyorkshire', a phrase the NME thought it created following an explosion of Yorkshire-based bands in the mid-noughties. They didn't. So there. So what now? Do we all swap playlists like a massive e-musical orgy? I do hope so.

One last thing. Music plays such a huge part of our lives these days. It was Madonna who said that "music makes the people come together (yeah)". Richard Ashcroft said that "music is power" and it was CSS who said that "music is my hot, hot sex".

With this in mind, I would like to dedicate this blog to a very special friend of ours - bigger than Jesus and the saviour of music - Andrew WK (www.youtube.com/watch?v=WccfbPQNMbg&feature=avmsc2).

Hyde Park Squatting

Having been synonymous with the internet since like, forever, the lack of it over the last few weeks whilst squatting alone at my friend Emily's new gaff has been most frustrating. Despite the obvious disablement of social networking which might have aided my sanity, being out in the internet wilderness came at a time when, after an intense yet joyous 36 hours of musical discussion with friends Luke and Andy, all I wanted to do was unearth some new music. I've also been wanting to buy a ticket to see Cancer Bats at the Cockpit in Leeds, as well as keeping tabs on the line-ups for Manchester's Warehouse Project (BOYS NOIZE) and the latest transfer gossip (I had no idea Joe Cole had signed for Liverpool until Andy brought it up casually before accusing the man of greed). I kept forgetting I didn't have the internet and often felt like the widowed trapeze artist with Alzheimer's featured in the Cleveland Show ('LOL').

Cancer Bats - Pneumonia Hawk (www.youtube.com/watch?v=ba4NiGoYjFw)

Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros - Home (www.youtube.com/watch?v=4306i99LMXo)

I could have also done with researching a new haircut and having found nothing in Vice (as if), NME or Rolling Stone, I concluded that I'm a bit disillusioned with the state of men's hair at the moment. Best just get a tidy-up before I re-sign working for 'the man' come August 31st (I'm embarking on a year-long placement as a 'Student Project Manager' at uni and won't lie - I'm dreading it).

I could have always stayed at my parents' new house somewhere within what's known as the 'Cleck-Hudders-Fax' triangle. But, that would not have worked out very well. I obviously love my parents but as I'm sure many of you can appreciate, spending too much time together can be detrimental to a relationship. With Nige now retired, Christine off school for the summer and no real place for me to retreat, it might well have come to me trying to drown myself in the well in the cellar, which I'm not really into.

I do love a good list and it's becoming increasingly apparent that I can't really operate my own life without one. Thanks to my constantly revised 'List of Life', I've been keeping busy...ish. Emily's garden is looking much tidier after taking advantage of the randomly stationed spade and sweeping brush, whilst I banked a 7 month old cheque from my Cyprus-based Grandma (who is coming over to stay for a whole month).

I've been watching a lot of 'Absolutely Fabulous' which has kept me giggling throughout the past fortnight or so. I was only little when it was on the telly-box and was something I really wouldn't have 'got'. The writing is like, well good and the mannerisms and facial expressions of Edwina (Jennifer Saunders, whom I definitely fancy) and particularly Patsy (Joanna Lumley, who has killer legs) are genius. Since seeing the episode where they get coked-up in a French cottage, I've had an overwhelming desire to play ping-pong.

With having one of the best part-time jobs in the world at the Leeds O2 Academy, I had the honour of experiencing some more genius in the form of Regina Spektor on Wednesday night. Having felt more than a bit ropey from the previous days' debaucherous shenanigans, she made everything okay with her beautiful yet quirky (and often blunt) lyrics, hitting every note perfectly with her piano, keyboard, guitar and particularly her voice. Oh my wow.

Regina Spektor - Samson (www.youtube.com/watch?v=p62rfWxs6a8&feature=avmsc2)

Post-Regina, it was home via my beloved Crispy takeaway for my 3rd £2.50 pizza of the week and into bed with Peep Show and my 'List of Life'. Upon examining the list, I was excited to see that I was due at the Cockpit the following night to see 'Time of Hibu' in a Futuresound competition where they were vying for a place at the Reading and Leeds Festivals.

Headlining the night, they gave a passionate, high-energy, performance and were as 'toyt' as Tupperware; I really bummed it. I couldn't help but stare at frontman Luke, who has a very unique style about him and a lovely face. The crowd around us were very receptive to each of their songs and hope the judges shared our enjoyment. Check out 'Go My Way' on their website (www.timeofhibu.comToH/Time_of_Hibu.html).

Simon.

Bulgaria...Fuck Yeah!

The defining lynchpin behind the blog came during my week-long trip to Bulgaria. My brother (Gary, 26, cack at song lyrics and rhythm) and I flew out on an aeroplane to meet our good friend Dan (25, fan of old school hip hop and fine dining) in Sunny Bay, a Bulgarian tourist hotspot. The combination of not having a camera (or any other instrument to log our activities and indeed recall ANYTHING we did) along with reading Gordon Smart's Sun articles were all the motivation I needed to start writing. Jeez Louise, Gordon Smart is a prick. "Snoop Dogg saved Glastonbury", he writes. Snoop the Loop was an undeniable success but insinuating that the rest of the festival was a "flop" made him look like a prize pump-head. Maybe if he'd have gotten out of the press tent...

According to my Lonely Planet, Bulgaria is very different to what it was 10 years ago. Even on the popular tourist strip, there is evidence of its past, present and future (hello, cranes). Being locked behind the Iron Curtain for 40 years or whatevs is going to take its toll in a whole heap of ways. You could see in the old people's eyes how much they have seen in their lifetime - far more than any of us could probably imagine; especially the posh A-Level kids we met whose idea of 'bad times' was comprehensive education. However, I could sense an air of contentment amongst the older folk and I dug that. The rest of the Black Sea Coast appeared to be full of misery and is predominantly made up of phenomenally attractive (but miserable) women and the line up from the 'World's Strongest Man 1997' (the saddened losers of the contest, that is). It was just ridiculous.

Aside from the 'phenomenally attractive women', Bulgaria is not too dissimilar to Scotland (my beautiful friend Holly Andrews being an exception - a direct descendent of William Wordsworth no less). For starters, there's the greasy food. The chef at one quiet inland restaurant we found (who dropped some VERY LOUD GERMAN TECHNO for the waitress to deliver a sizzling hot plate to one confused customer) found it appropriate to batter my £15 swordfish. Then of course there was the language barrier, the wind and the misery. Also in regard to their EU membership, you get the impression that both countries are just 'happy to be there'.

Having been to Poland with Dan a couple of years back, I had expected to pay a small amount of 'Scoobies' (the currency of any country outside the UK in mine, Dan's and now Gary's head) for beer and the like, with everything else coming in relation and proportion. Despite the disgustingly wonderful price of beer (90p for a pint of premium lager as well as the £1.20 for 20 cigarettes), it was a bit of a shock when you quickly realise the bulk of Bulgaria's mafia-run economy is heavily reliant on taxi fares and the human requirement to do a wee-wee. In one taxi we got in at Nessebar (a 9,000 year old town where artistes flock to sell their sculptures, paintings and AK-47's), the meter was doing a cracking impersonation of a stopwatch. As for the paying-to-urinate scandal, the free use of the bar toilet was becoming a deal breaker with the promo peeps. "I give you free shot?", they'd say. "Throw in a free wee and it's a deal".

Going out in the evening was fuuuun. With very few English people around, we gave the line "are you English?" a good run out. Let's face it - it doesn't work so well back home. On the first night, having been thrust into a club called 'Iceberg', we came across a group of three English girls. I say they were English, they were definitely from Wrexham which I'm convinced makes them Welsh. Dan and Gary quickly bonded with two of the girls (well, Dan and 'Georgie bonded. Not even God knows what Gary did) whilst I was lampooned with the boring, tee-total girl with a boyfriend who, after a pleasant conversation about ducks, decided to take the 'let's-talk-about-the-time-I-saw-someone-on-my-farm-get-crushed-to-death' conversational road. Pffft. I longed for Kelly the Australian promo-girl who had got us in the club. Ahhhh...lovely Kelly. Having quickly established some common ground with our big love for Justice, we continued to chat over a drink and soon found that we shared even bigger mutual loves for Krafty Kuts, as well as Aussie artists such as The Bloody Beetroots, Cut Copy and The Presets. Alas, it wasn't until my last evening until we saw each other again. Flip!

Over the remaining nights, we experienced a washed-up Artful Dodger, coincidence (where it transpired that I was talking to Ellis, a lad who my friend Sarah, Dan and myself had taken on a day trip to Bridlington when he was 11, as well as meeting a delightful girl called Alice who knew cousin's brother, Stavros), radical international relations (where Gary went from being pick-pocketed by gypsy prostitutes to being worshipped by a clearly naive Bulgarian babe) and soggy grinding (in which I shan't go into detail).

On our 'quiet night', we took an evening stroll down to the mafia-run marina to eat some fine mafia-cooked fish with the mafia-ruled locals. The aim of a post-meal drink was quickly hampered when 3 girls from the Midlands sat next to us. With the girls being between 27-29, twinned with Dan's line of work and our hometown of Halifax, mortgages quickly became the topic of conversation with Dan bearing the brunt of some gentle-medium abuse. Luckily, the retro 80's tunes were enough to distract me from the conversational mire and soon got my groove on - much to the delight of the Katie Price-wannabe who, with her hair slicked all the way back to the early 1960's, was clearly enchanted by my moves (ZING). Before we knew it, it was 4am and back to the shop for more beer and on to their apartment for possible romance and iPod-breaking. It was good to know that the 'quiet nights' can escalate Balkan-style just as well as back home. If only Gary had read the 'Wing-man' textbook...

Music-wise, the nightlife's offerings reflected much of Sunny Beach; tacky and very repetitive but easy to get caught up in it all. Aside from my freaking brilliant rendition of Limp Bizkit's 'Break Stuff' at the karaoke bar, the (what seemed like) 8 song loop was impossible to escape and as such, most of it was bizarrely embraced as if it were a warped form of Stockholm Syndrome. The tracks that David Guetta wasn't involved in included:

Stromae - Alors en Danse (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7pKrVB5f2W0)

There's no getting round it - this track is absolute dog shit. But for some reason, we just didn't hate it after 3 days.

Yolanda Be Cool & DCUP - We No Speak Americano (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3jrXw97egoM)

For days, I was convinced that this was the commercial breakthrough for French electro-swing outfit Caravan Palace. It's safe to say that this is the definitive summer dance track and to be fair brought with it some belting dance choreography that the world had being crying out for since the Whigfield/Macarena era.

Luckily, we had Justin Beiber and some new MTV friends to fall back on at the apartment. Dan and I were particularly impressed with EVERYTHING about Selena Gomez (and The Scene - but enough about them). According to my sources, Selena is a ma-hassive mega star in America and is another in a long line of Disney Channel products. She played her first ever UK show in April and I for one would like to be on her.

Selena Gomez & The Scene - Round & Round (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UfcvO2t8Ntg)

The trip to Bulgaira has brought to an end a pretty redonkulous few months for me. Incorporating an amazing birthday party, academic and professional triumphs, incredible live music (Rage, Parklife, Glastonbury...) and comedy (Flight of the Conchords, Peter Kay, Adam Watts...), a successful house move and everything in between. I'd even even put it out ther and suggest that these have been some of the bestest times of my life (ahhhhhhhh).

Simon.

N.B. Deck shoes make for a high standard of skidding on airport floors.