Oh dear. It’s that time of year again: tonight is my work Christmas party. After last year’s truly awful Medieval Banquet-themed event, I had assumed that this year’s party couldn’t possibly be any worse, but it looks like I might be about to be proved wrong. The first worrying sign came way back in July, when we were emailed a list of potential options, all of which seemed to be offered by this company: www.christmasparties.net,…
That said, there is one story that does bear telling properly. As a birthday present for me, Sal had decided that we should take a trip along the coast for a few days, and towards the end of our stay in Melbourne, that is what we did. I’d been part of the way along the Great Ocean Road on both of my two previous trips to Australia. For various reasons, I’d never quite made it…
So, it’s becoming increasingly clear that in spite of my best efforts I’m never going to actually catch up with the last month’s worth of bloggable events. We’ve been back from Australia for over a week now, and, well, I’ve got nowhere, frankly. (er, actually, make that two weeks: see, I even started this entry in the past…) SO. Perhaps a summary of notable events is in order. I’m clearly quite incapable of yoking together…
Thursday saw my first trip to the race ground itself (and in fact my first trip to a race ground anywhere, for that matter), as we headed to Flemington for Oaks Day. Unfortunately my betting abilities were in no way improved by my proximity to the races themselves, but it was still a fun way to spend the day, swanning around in a suit, drinking cheap Champagne, eating “Dim Sim” on a stick (a bizarre…
Pleasing to see that I’ll still be able to keep up with the fortunes of Everton if I ever have to live over in Australia for some reason, at least as long as we have an Australian player–the Herald Sun, the shabby sub-Daily Mail Murdoch tabloid that is ubiquitous in these parts, providing a handy does of right-wing paranoia and scaremongering for those with a fear of the different, tells me that “Aussie Tim Cahill…
If you ever find yourself on the streets of an Australian town centre, you might get to witness a very Australian shopping phenomenon: businesses attempting to drum up trade by employing some hapless assistant to stand outside with a microphone announcing the various bargains and discounts on offer. I’ve seen this before, on my previous two trips to the country, and I’ve always found it rather amusing, in a low-budget, 1970s kind of way. Still,…
And so Friday’s 5.30pm rolled around, and I found myself not really doing much of anything at my desk, so I decided to head off to Heathrow, ridiculously early of course, but at least on holiday. Probably just as well, in the end, as I had to endure an excruciating wait to check in at the Singapore Airlines desk, standing in a queue that failed spectacularly to move for absolutely ages. Seriously, what takes some…
A nice little early birthday present was waiting for me when I got home on Friday night in the form of a court summons for our errant landlady. You may remember our potential eviction woes back in July following her apparent failure to bother to pay the mortgage. We thought it had all been resolved, but it appears not, and proceedings initiated by her bank to recover possession of the property will be heard at…
The other weekend Sal and I popped over to Naples as part of my work’s annual company holiday. It’s always an entertaining experience watching your colleagues get spectacularly drunk and do silly things, and this weekend was no exception. Before we went, I’d heard many things about the fine city of Naples, mostly along the lines of “nice pizza, shame about the city” (my mum, helpfully, said “well, isn’t that what they say: ‘see Naples…
Over two weeks ago now (yes, I’ve been awfully slack, I know), I spent a weekend in a blur of lederhosen and steins at the world-famous Oktoberfest in Munich. For some reason, it’s not an event that attracts many Brits, as far as I can tell, but as even a cursory glance at a copy of TNT will tell you, it’s well and truly on the default itinerary for every antipodean temporary London resident (ethically…