I'm a really good dancer

Trip Start May 27, 2010
Trip End Aug 31, 2011

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Flag of United Kingdom  , England,
Monday, June 20, 2011

A full week of work was ahead of me when I woke up on Monday.  Kim had headed back to London and the house was left with its two humble occupants.  

I was a legal secretary come taxi driver on Wednesday night when the boys wanted to go to the Royal British Legion to watch the football and sink a few pints.  Initially I dropped them at the pub, returning home to settle under the blanky and watch a few episodes of The Hills in quick succession.  But as soon as I got comfortable under the blanket, my phone rang.  It was Philo.  The football wasn't on, and they wanted to be taken to another pub.  So I returned to the Legion, actually grateful for the opportunity to put my UK licence to the test.  I picked up the boys and took them up to the other pub, scraping the tyres on the side of the road along the way when I misjudged the width of the road.  A couple of hours later I went back and collected them and delivered them safely home.  The meter wasn't working that night, so I said "no charge mate" and let them on their way.   

Thursday night saw me in Moseley with old mate, testing out an Italian restaurant he thought would be good to take Mum and Geoff to when they arrive the following Thursday.  As it happened we both had the devil in us and pushed the limits of chili tolerance by both ordering a pizza that had the smallest, greenest, hottest chillies either of us had had before.  I like hot stuff and I can have it quite hot, but this was unbearable.  To cool down the palette, we had a few ciders at some local pubs before getting the bus and walking through the darkest walkway I've ever been down.  I'm fairly confident that that's one path I wont be taking when I'm on my own at night.  We made it home safely, and went up to bed, feeling a little bit tipsy.  

Friday was a bleary-eyed start.  No surprises there.  That Addlestone's is out of control: it's strong stuff and it gets me every time.  Luckily I had a busy day at work which helped to ease the pain.  We got a Chinese takeaway from the Golden Dragon ("Ha Filll!") for dinner and had a quiet night in, followed by a sleep-in the next morning.  

A shower and some breakfast, and we were ready to hit the pubs of Harborne, an area I had yet to visit.  We started at The Plough, a cool pub with heaters on every outdoor table and a brilliant pizza menu.  The plan was to sit out in the sun and have a few pints, but lo and behold, the sun retreated as soon as we got to the pub, and we were left sitting under the shelter (with our own heater), watching the dog at the table next to us try in vain to get at the piece of chicken that had been dropped on the floor.  It would've been easy enough for the fluffy little thing to get to were it not for the lead attached to its collar and looped around a chair leg.  It was torture for the dog, but it was entertaining to watch it trying in desperation to get its chops around that little bit of chook.  

So we had a few ciders and solved all the worries of the world, moving on to another couple of pubs and demonstrating my dancing prowess in the middle of a dance floor, in daylight.  The main aim, apart from refining my shoulder-shrugging hip-rotating moves, was to embarrass Phil even more than I did when I did the dance in the middle of the street in Moseley on Thursday.  When Phil came back out of his hiding place we got a cab to the last pub, and then wandered up to the kebab shop to get ourselves a taste sensation: a kebab burger.  What a brilliant idea.  

Brilliant ideas.  See: hair straighteners.  Sure, I'm a bit of a nutter for some of the things that I think about (and care to share with others), but at some stage during the week I thought about what a great thing it is that I have a hair straightener in my life.  For years and years I struggled with my hair, trying to blow-dry it just so, and after reaching my destination, be it school or work, realising that all the time I had invested caressing the hairdryer were for nothing when I'd look in the mirror or the reflection in a shop window and see a frizzball in front of me.  So when hair straighteners became readily available on the market, I snapped one up, and now I simply can not live without one.  From the Muster, that no one could ever pronounce let alone hold with one hand because they were so damned heavy, to the Silver Bullet which sounded more like something you'd find in a sex shop, hair straighteners have taken many forms and incarnations, to the current day GHD which has to be among the best.  

So it got me thinking about the other things I can't live without.  For example:

- Chips.  Hot chips mainly.  I love them, and if they were taken off the planet I'd be considering my fate as well.  A life without chips would not be worth living.  

- Philo.  Well it's obvious isn't it.  I did once tell him that I loved him more than chips, so I guess in fairness this item in the list should be at the top.  

-  Email and Facebook.  What else would I do on the train or when sitting alone at a bar or needing a distraction from work?  I can check both on my phone these days, and I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't check my emails on the go.   

- Cider.  If Australia has any chance of getting me back, it had better sort out the cider situation.   
Sunday was another sleep-in, and despite the ciders the night before, we were fresh enough to do some stuff around the house and load up some garbage bags of all Phil's old white Adidas trainers (I counted four pairs) and piles of empty shoeboxes that had been kept for a good reason.  The blinds were installed in the two spare bedrooms on Sunday afternoon as well, making the bedrooms look great, and one looking particularly chic.  Sorry Kim - you were a week too early!  I'm sure Mum and Geoff will appreciate them when they come to stay.  

During the week I entered four competitions.  I won none.  It really upsets me when I increase my chances by entering lots of raffles, and I still don't win stuff.  I had a bet on a horse and couldn't even get that right.  How is it that even though we know full well that winning raffles and lotteries are complete chance and we still get disappointed when we lose?  It's incredibly disheartening and every time I say "I'm never buying a raffle ticket again".  Huff.  Puff.  

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