A funny thing...

Today, as I often do to kill time during the holidays, I went into town. I drove, as I often do during the holidays, to Carlton Hill, the halls of residence in which I lived during my first year at university. These halls have a car park, and are reasonably central to Leeds. Unfortunatly, the owners realised the prime location of the flats, and put a barrier up to stop cars that aren't owned by people with permits to park there coming in. These permit holders are also issued with cards that they swipe to obtain entry. However, I happen to know that this barrier is constantly up during the university holidays, because people need to come and go with their belongings. I parked in the car park, driving in easily through the raised barrier.
After a good length of time shopping with my next door neighbour, we headed back to the car, only to realise that for some reason, the barrier was now lowered, locking us in. It used to be the case that one could easily lift the barrier by hand, but now it is fitted with an electromagnet that only disengages when you swipe a card. We were stuck, unless we managed to find the owner of one of the cars that were legitimately parked there, to let us out.

We started knocking on doors, and after a few, we got an answer. It was a lovely Irish chap, who, coincidentally, lived in the apartment that I used to live in. Once we had asscertained that he was unable to help us, I mentioned the fact that I had lived in that very flat, four years ago. He seemed to be amused by this, and asked if any of the post was mine. I pointed out that 4 years is quite a long time, and it was unlikely. Nevertheless, he asked if I was called Robert something-or-other. I said no, and he asked if I was Mark Hardy!
'Yes,' I said, 'that's me. I'm Mark Hardy.'
He handed me a letter, which further investigation proved to be a copy of Toronto Airport Christian Fellowship's Catch the Fire magazine! Can you believe it?! For four years, they have been delivering this magazine from another continent to a house that I don't live in! Furthermore, the man now in charge of sending mail out to people like me, is in fact Jonathan Puddle. That's right. J Puddy. Him of the DJ fame. The man that I taught to spin. The New Zealander. The man who is dating my girlfriend's roommate! And there he is, a man I assumed to be very holy (he is, after all, in a position of responsibility at TACF), and he's wasting people's tithes and conference fees, wasting the money that comes in from the bookstore, and also from the Riverside Cafe. He's taking the money that people give to the work of that wonderful church, and he's spending it on sending magazines to houses that I used to live in!

So, I'd just like to apologise to Pudd (and Hamish before him) for allowing them to continue with this wasted task, and also to the people whose gifts to the Lord have been spent on the printing and international postage of an unread magazine. God bless you all...

Daunting task...

Right. It's twenty after twelve. I should have been up hours ago, but last night I slept really well and long for the first time in about two weeks, and it felt good. I'm wrapped in my duvet while I write this, and I have no intentions of getting up. I know I have stuff to do. In fact, it's a very small, very easy task I have to go to the basement, take some clothes out of the washer, and hang them to dry. But even this simple, quick job seems far too much effort when I've slept so well in my comfortable bed which is nice and warm...

very pleased to announce an end to the confusion about the gig on April 19. I got the phone call from Simon while I was in Majorca, saying that he couldn't do the gig, because of a church meeting. When I returned to England, I pointed out that the gig was actually organised first, and that we'd still be able to get tapes of the meeting. Simon agreed that these things were true, and then all we had to do was convince the promoters at the Vine to let us back on the bill. They'd asked someone else, it seems, to ake our slot, but last night I got an email, telling me that the other band were being really good about it, and we're back on. We're headlining, and Band Club, one of the most promising new band in Leeds, are on first. Get down there if you can, you don't want to miss this one...

Afer the match...

I went to see the football today. As usual, Sheffield Wednesday made complete fools of themselves in the first half, letting in two goals from the rubbish Torquay United. And, as usual, they proved what they can do in the second half. Unfortunatly, they'd already given too much away, because all we managed was to equalise, and to leave Hillsborough with one point. Anyway, all this is irrelevant, I was just setting the scene, and my emotions got the better of me.

As is often the case, on my way back to Leeds after the game, I pulled off the motorway at junction 35A, and went to the McDonald's on the roundabout up the road. I decided to treat myself to a donut for dessert. Now, I worked at the greasy burger restaurant for a good year and a half in my school days, and I used to love a good donut. But do you know what This one was rubbish. I couldn't figure it out. It was not old and dry, the chocolate was not melted off on one side, there were no signs of tampering. It was exactly the same as any other donut I have ever eaten from McDonald's. Then I realised what was different. When I used to eat these sweet treats from the greasy clown's sweatshop, I had never made a visit to Canada. I had certainly never sampled the delights of Krispy Kreme's mouthwatering snacks. And so, it seems, life will never be the same again. Once you've eaten a Krispy Kreme donut; once you've ravenously devoured one of those warm, sticky, melt-in-the-mouth pieces of sugary heaven straight off the production line, there's no going back. No donut will ever taste as good. Not McDonald's chocolate donuts. Not Tim Horton's Canadian maple donuts. Not even Gregg's custard donuts.

I guess it's like the band, James, said in their song, Sit Down:
'If I hadn't seen such riches, I could live with being poor.'

England's green and pleasant land...

Well, I'm back in the country. I have to say, I had a good time, but I'm glad to be back. That isn't usually the case for me, because I can think of at least 4 places I would rather be right now than my native country. But this time, it was a bit different. I really enjoyed the place we stayed in, and it was awesome to spend time with my parents. But the situation was not one I would choose to find myself in again. We shared an apartment. My parents had the double room, and I was on the couch in the shared living room/kitchen/dining area. The couch was pretty uncomfortable, and the room was too hot. I didn't get much sleep, before I was woken up by my mom and dad coming in to make coffee/go onto the veranda/generally make a racket.

Now, don't get me wrong, I still had a great time, and I wouldn't change my parents for the world. But there's something very wierd about being asleep in bed in the same room as your parents are wandering around in, when you're 23. I realise now why I moved away from home...

Never mind. The hotel was just our basecamp, as it were, and it did the job. We did a whole bunch of stuff, the most important of which I've outlined already on here, so there's no need to go over old ground in that respect. The trip back was ok, I'm on my parents' computer now, and I intend to be in Leeds by tonight, so it's a fish and chip supper for me, then in the car for the drive home. Mom's out at the chippie right now. I hope it's open. For all that I love sampling the foreign delicacies, and avoiding the British run/attracting places when I'm away, I still really enjoy a nice big plateful of deep fried, battered fish, and greasy, thick cut chips, smothered in salt and swimming in vinegar. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go salivate elsewhere - I don't want to short out this keyboard...

Those caves?

Unstinkingbelievable...

Hooray!

At last! Something in the field of technology did not let me down last night! It all started when I was in a restaurant with my parents. I had discovered that I could not only send pictures taken on my phone to Bethany´s email address, but I could also attach text, and even voice recordings for her to listen to later. I had quite successfully sent one of these messages the day before, so I thought that it would be a good idea to send another, this time with my parents saying hello too. and a good idea it was, until part way through the text part, the phone crashed and switched itself off. When I switched it back on, all the pictures I had ever taken on it were gone. All the ringtones I ever had sent to me or downloaded were gone. Pictures that people had sent me were gone. Even all the pictures, and ringtones that came with the phone had been erased. Fortunately, my phone book and diary were unaffected, but when I tried to send another email message, the WAP connection claimed to have never been set up. It was most frustrating.

Then, when I tried to blog last night, I had about 30 seconds left to publish my post. I clicked ´publish´, and suddenly the computer decided to go into slow mode. The screen went back to the ´put coins in´ screen before it had even got halfway. I was cursing all technological advances since the 50s at this point. I didn´t have any more coins to put in, and my parents were in bed, so I couldn´t go scrounge from them...

Anyway, I got downstairs this morning, and it seems that it published perfectly well, so I was worrying about nothing. I´m still taking my cell phone to the shop when I get back. Stupid Sony Ericsson.

Right. Today, we´re going to the Drach Caves in Porto Cristo. They´re meant to be pretty sweet. I´ll take some pictures and put them up on here when I get back. They should look suitably out of place next to the ones of Magaluf. My dad bought some sausages for breakfast this morning, but when he cooked them, we realised that they were the worst thing we´d ever eaten. Good job we brought the Weetabix - the Official Cereal of 16 Village Place...

Four minutes and counting...

So, I have four minutes left on my internet time to write this blog. I promised myself that I´d spend more time on it than this, but I emailed Bethany again, and now I´ve run out of change to put in the meter. Imagine! A computer that runs on a meter that you put coins in! Brilliant...

Anyway, today, I went to the capital of Majorca, Palma, which I expected to be horrible, and was actually beautiful. There was the most amazing cathedral, and some ancient public baths. the streets were narrow and cobbled. It was incredible. Also went to Magaluf, just to see what it was like. For those of you that don´t know, Magaluf is the mecca for Brits abroad. If you´ve ever heard a bad reputation of my nation on holiday, it probably comes from the locals of Magaluf. Everywhere you looked was English restaurants and pubs. We ruined what was once a beautiful coastline in someone else´s country. Pretty much what we did in the rest of the world, actually...

On Holiday

This is just a quick blog, because I only have 3 minutes left on my internet time in the lobby of my hotel here in Majorca. It´s rather warm, and the sea is close. There are many rude postcards in the shops, and most places will sell you an English breakfast, catering for the cretinous masses of English tourists who flock here every summer, who want the warm weather, but non of that foreign muck, as my late grandfather would have said.

Hope all is well in the colder areas of the world (and, if anybody´s reading this, from the warmer climes as well)

See you later, I´m off to eat grilled rabbit stuffed with spanish sausage and mushrooms. Local delicacy, I´m told...

Post op...

So, I had my surgery, and now I'm back home waiting for Bethany to arrive tomorrow.. It's all good. I expected to be out of hospital last Monday, but they sent me home on the Saturday. They've taken a bunch of skin and fatty tissue from the inside of my mouth to sort out the problem, and that's quite sore, but it's healing and the skin is regenerating. The fatty tissue will never grow back, so I'll always be able to feel the muscles inside my cheeks now, which is pretty wierd.

Things are a bit wierd at school. Xec emailed me today to say that the job losses have been announced. They are axing a bunch of teachers and almost all of the nursery nurses. Fortunately for me, they're keeping all the teaching assistants, but it's pretty harsh on the other staff. The LEA seems to think that it can replace teachers with higher level teaching assistants, which is a load of rubbish. Please pray for all the staff at the special schools across the city of Leeds, who are understandably worried about their jobs. Also for Michael, our headteacher, who I think is going to get a lot of stick for this, even though it's not his fault - he's being told what to do.

Finally, on a more positive note, I don't know if any of you have seen the new Volkswagen Golf GTi commercial yet, but it's unstinkingbelievable. Watch it here...