I worked out that one new set of blades = 71 hours cleaning toilets last summer, hence the overwhelming relief that I will (hopefully) only have to pay my insurance excess.
It turns out that one little crash = £50 excess + c. 4hours T-cutting to get the 5m long OXFORD BLUE COLOURED scratch out of my boat (it would just have to be that colour wouldn't it?) + having to use said Oxford coloured blades as mine are a bit unusable now + epic hand shredding due to evil Stampfli orange grips of death. (Though let it be known I am very grateful for using said Oxford-y blades - thanks Andrea!)
I did slightly scare the guy who crashed into me by mentioning the word "castration" in conjunction with the phrase "If you ever fucking touch my boat again" and "with a rusty spoon". Not necessarily in that order. (We're on good terms now though, I just had The Fucking Rage on Sunday. My swear tally took a bit of a hit...)
So yes, that's that cleared up. But I will miss you minty-blades-with-Durham-colour-coming-through-underneath :-(
|We've been through a lot together :-(|
But anyway. You will be pleased to know that I survived the date t'other day. I think. Well, I don't think I fucked up that much...Maybe.
I figured I was onto a winner when this happened:
|Seriously. Exact words.|
BUT ON WITH THE RANTING!
I do not understand this sport at all. So, you're going to get up at 5am to sit under an umbrella for very many hours staring at a piece of wire dangling in the water? And then probably not catch anything. And then if you do catch anything, you take a photo of it and throw it back in.
You do know you can buy fish from Sainsbury's right?
The reason they're really pissing me off at the moment is that they keep telling me to move out of the way while I'm sculling along.
|OK, I don't swear at them. Unless they swear at me first.|
I mean, you've got nothing to do except WATCH YOUR PIECE OF WIRE. I cannot see where I'm going, and even if I did turn round at exactly the right point, I'm not going to see you decked out in camoflage gear (don't understand this either - you're fishing, not bloody Bear Grylls) or your fucking INVISIBLE piece of wire. The river is straight. You can see me coming from miles away. Don't get pissy with me if I row into your line because it's your bloody fault. And no, I'm not going to row on the other side of the river to be hit by novices/cruisers/CUBC.
OK, who leaves a game of Buckaroo in the computer room where I need to work? Seriously?
3) Filofax refills
I had to pay £4.50 for this:
*Random subject change*
Oh, I realised the other day that I'd been walking past this every time I went to an Astrofluids lecture.
Yes, that is Steven Hawking floating around in zero gravity. A.M.A.Z.I.N.G.
I'm also starting to get funny looks for taking photos of bits of the maths department. This is some PhD's office:
That is a serious Diet Coke addiction right there. The tall bit is at least 6 cans deep...
Ooo ooo ooo *random subject change 2*
So I decided to cycle out to Ely this morning, which I haven't done for a while. (It took me back to my CUWBC-overtraining-like-a-mental days. Pleasing. I've got my best scars and near-death experiences on that 19 mile route.... )
But anyway, with the infallible reasoning that it's OK to listen to music (in one ear...) while cycling in the dark because you can always see what's coming (even from behind you), I decided to whack on some Schubert*. For a change. I mean, you can get a little bored of Pendulum/Prodigy/random trance after a while.
So I was just making my way out of Cottenham when the E flat piano trio** came on, a lonely barn owl flew past, there was a tailwind AND I FELT LIKE A GOD.
It was a beautiful moment.
I then got cut up by a truck.
But for a moment there was perfection on the Twenty Pence Road. And it was good.
Thought I'd share.
*Get a 16 year-old Railton to learn to play some Schubert and she'll be obsessed for life.
** CELLO CHORDS! I LOVE CELLO CHORDS! CHORDS! ON A CELLO! WooooOOOooo!