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
About Me
- Simon Nigel Danger Wood
- Born at the age of 4 in a woodcutter’s cottage in the Black Forest sometime next year, I’m a student at Leeds Met University studying Project Management. Despite the absolute lack of creative freedom, it’s alright and I’m quite good at it I suppose. Leeds Met is often referred to as ‘the other one’ in relation to its more distinguished cousin but I like to think it’s not important. We are all students of Leeds. I’m not an absolute ‘rah’ and I’m not a complete ‘spaz-tard’ – I’m very happily sandwiched in-between, all warm and snug. Anywho. I digress. I enjoy many things in life, from the humble Jaffa Cake and social intoxication to music and my attempts of being a ‘lad’. The idea of blogging has long been wandering aimlessly in my less-than-average sized head. During my previous life jumping when Yorkshire Water clapped, I put together a monthly newsletter which people seemed to like. So. Possessing a half decent grasp of the written word and the occasional tendency to be a bit of a douche, I thought ‘blogging’ could be a hoot. Enjoy. P.S. I must credit the late John Peel who I based my whole ‘born at the age of four...’ intro. Kudos, John. Kudos.
Monday 27 September 2010
Friday 17 September 2010
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:
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
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
Friday 3 September 2010
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.
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.
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