Author: Kruse

My local has re-opened.  Which, of course, is a double-edged sword.  I have very very quickly got to know the new guv’nor – to the point of helping him install his wireless internet, and meeting his family the other night.  And – already being allowed behind the bar to help myself .  Even using the till.  Dangerous, dangerous times.  I’ve told him that I’m quite happy to jump behind the bar and help out when I see them getting busy.  And the other night, I think he was hinting that I do it regularly.  Had to re-iterate my position – I’m more than happy to help out, as long as it doesn’t mean somebody who’s actually getting paid for it gets less hours, or loses their job, or something

He and his girlfriend have made quite a few changes to the pub already.  Taken half the carpet up, fresh paint, that kind of thing – made the pub look a new place straightaway.  He’s going to start doing food soon.  TVs coming in.  Soon enough, I’ll never need to leave the place.  Have already done a spot of work from there using the wifi.  Bad precedent.

And other than that – it’s been work.  Worked up to and including the 24th.  Then it was little Nicky Osborne’s birthday.  Although I couldn’t make it to Spain to spend it with him – I went to Chook’s place for a day of festivities.  Food and wine.  And a board game, which I got tired of – so ended it by winning.  Also came up with an idea for New Year’s Eve, finally – and have managed to do something about it.  So, anybody else who doesn’t have plans yet – it’s Bangkok this year.  See you there.

So – I saw the All Blacks clinch Grand Slam ’08.  Managed to be rather hungover – if I recall correctly, I had a shut-in at the pub I’ve been trialling as a possible new local.  Managed to get up, had a beer at the pub on the way to the station – and got to Waterloo.  Figured out how to get on a train to Twickenham – and off I went.  Got to Twickenham – and was immediately impressed.  Couldn’t even see the stadium yet – but throngs of people, and plenty of stalls trying to sell food, supporters gear, etc – all the normal stuff.  Got to the stadium – and discovered my ticket WASN’T a forgery.  Huzzah.  (I nearly used Hoorah, but I like ‘Huzzah’ so much better.)  Got into the stadium – and discovered I’d timed it perfectly.  Just got to my seat, in time for the teams to come out.  Watched the haka – but couldn’t hear anything.  80,000 english singing Sweet Chariot is rather impressive.  And, like the Welsh response to the haka – I think fair enough.  The Welsh response was awesome, I thought.  Sweet Chariot – well, it’s acceptable.  And you have to let the English have something.  80,000 of them knew damned well they were about to get beaten – but they sung and they sung, in their tone-deaf voices.  It made me really look forward to going to a game in Wales.

And so – I watched the game.  Decent game, I guess.  But awesome stadium.  Not much character, or anything like that – bit big.  BIG.  Lots of people.  Afterwards – I went down and shook Piri’s hand.  “Well done mate.  Good job.”  Then – off to drink some beer, and find my way home.  Very very tired.  All in all, a good day.

And since then – haven’t really done anything.  In fact, can’t think of a single thing.  Work, work, work.  Did absolutely nothing this last weekend – which was rather nice.  Except I drank a helluva lot of yerba mate – and on Saturday night I was still awake at 2am without feeling at all tired.  Oh – and Friday night, had a few drinks after work.  Was feeling sickly – so just stopped in for one or two.  With my drunk arsetralian workmate calling me nasty names for trying to leave.  Less than an hour later, he stumbles out the door unable to drink any more.  And I end up talking to another arsetralian chap until the bar staff kick us out.  Although the bar staff did buy me my last drink – when we were the last ones in the bar.  Maybe they’d already rung up the till.  Also that night – a reasonably attractive lady, out of nowhere, asked me to join her at her table.  We chit-chatted, and then she went home.  At which point I realised I am going to be single forever.  Confirmed this by running into a girl at the market who’d started chatting with me a month or two ago.  Again – too lazy to actually follow up on obvious interest.  I am truly awful at being a single man about town.  Oh well.  Maybe I can blossom into the nerd I should be.  Start playing dungeons and dragons, or whatever the kids are into nowadays.  (Any comments saying “like you don’t know… ha!” will be purged)

And plans for jeebersmas & little Nicky Osborne’s birthday in Espana don’t look promising.  Ben doesn’t sound keen to spend several thousand dollars to come over.  And although I’d probably be willing to spend a measly one thousand, I haven’t done anything about time off work – and it’s probably getting too late.  Another month of rain and cold in Londres, I guess.

Well, last time I let you, my avid fans, know what was going on in my world – I had to run off to go play pool.  And get stood up.  Still – a good excuse to spend nearly an hour in a big soulless plastic neon awful building drinking beer.  And then – a horrible horrible week of being on-call.  Absolutely nothing went right during that week.  Problems which resulted in my receiving an SMS message every 15 minutes throughout two nights running – and me not being able to turn them off or do anything about it.  Great fun.

Of course, none of this was helped by the fact that my local closed down over the weekend.  So – Saturday night was the last ever night at the local.  And this turned into pretty much what you’d expect.  Lots of me behind the bar, pouring myself drinks, until the wee hours.  And then – cooked a roast on Sunday, and shared idle chit-chat with Chook & Katie.  Then – I headed back down to the local – the owner let me in, and I helped him pack up some stuff.  All rather sad, actually.

So – I grieved for a few days, and have slowly started shopping around for a new local.  The logical one, due to location, was generally scoffed at by the regulars of my old local.  But – I’m thinking I’ll have to give it a go soon.  The second option, which involves an extra 10 minute walk – seems alright.  Lots of sports, which would be nice if I didn’t live in a country obsessed with football.  And it has an amateur theatre out the back.  So – it’s a rather odd mixture.  Old men muttering into their pints – then a crowd of theatre-goers waiting for the show – wo disappear suddenly.  Then – just old men muttering.  Intermission – a sudden influx of theatre-goers ordering white wines.  Then – a bell rings, and just as suddenly it is back to old men & pints.  (I am including myself in the old men muttering into pints category, of course).  And then – I went down there this last Saturday – to watch South Africa play England.  Fairly soon, I was wondering if the pub was a front for a drug den, or something.  All these dodgy people came in, stood about nervously, then this guy came out from the back – and handed them wads of cash.  The money seemed to be flowing in the wrong direction – but it all looked rather dodgy.  The chap from out the back wasn’t a big bloke – but he looked like the kinda guy you don’t mess with.  Like the head gangster in some Guy Ritchie movie.  So – I kinda didn’t want to be seen watching, but I was of course curious.  Eventually – I saw a transaction in it’s entirety.  Chaps came in – handed a piece of paper each to ‘Atchet ‘Arry – who then took these, looked at them – looked at the chaps – then went out the back.  Chaps had to wait – and weren’t allowed past a certain line – as the room through which ‘Atchet ‘Arry disappeared was marked “Ladies Only”.  A cunning ploy to stop these dodgy characters from getting close enough to a doorway to slip through to the office unseen, I assume.  Anyway – 15 minutes later, ‘Arry comes back – hands a big wad of cash to each person.  I still didn’t get it.  Then – it all clicked.  I remembered reading somewhere that one of the features of this pub was that it cashed cheques.  So – these chaps are getting paid by some bastard boss using cheques – and this is the only place they can get instant cash.  I assume ‘Arry is taking a sizable slice.  So – everybody’s happy.  The bastard employer is earning a few extra days interest, the employees are getting cash anyway, ‘Arry is getting an ‘ealthy percentage – and I got to watch England get throroughly thrashed yet again.

And then – I was off to Stratford.  Pen’s last night in the country – so I went back to the old flat, and joined Pen, Mike’n’Skye, adn Bibby to eat chinese and watch movies.  Zombie Strippers was particularly good – fully recommended.  Sunday night – a roast at Chook’s place.  Polite chit-chat, etc.

And then this week – I set out to prove that a credit-crunch doesn’t mean you can’t spend – it means you can’t BORROW.  So – if you usually spend money you actually have, absolutely nothing has changed.   So – this week I have been going through the major categories of purchases.  Overpriced sporting event ticket – check.  Got myself a ticket to watch New Zealand vs England on Saturday.  Sweet – walked with a bounce in my step all the way back to work.  Shiny electronic goods – check.  Held myself back from getting a projector or laptop – but did get a stupidly big external hard drive.  Regretted it before I even paid for it.  Overpriced unnecessary clothing – check.  Got myself a new suit, isn’t it? Then realised there were several stores just next door where I could have probably found one I liked a bit more.  Considered buying a second.  So – the only thing left I can think of is travel.  I’m considering Spain for Nicky Osborne’s birthday – but none of these goddamn lethargic people in London respond to any emails when I ask if anybody else is keen.  I get responses from Arsetralia, and the Czech Republic – but none from right here.  I understand though – this place is draining my soul as well.  Which is why Espana would be a good idea for a week or two.

I also considered Ecuador – but then saw it was about the same price as New Zealand.  But – I would very seriously consider going back to NZ if I had tickets to every single night of Neil Finn’s new Super-Concert.  Balcony seats – I’d probably book the flights tomorrow.  Although I have left it far too late to actually do anything at all – as I believe I am now booked in to do on-call up until the 23rd – and the deadline to change this has gone.  Should be able to get a few days off anyway – and maybe do a quick jaunt to Spain – paying stupid prices for airfares close to the 25th.  Worth it to see some sun, maybe some nature, and maybe the sea.

Never take a job where winter winds can blow up your pants. – Geraldo Rivera

Winter is nature’s way of saying, Up yours. – Robert Byrne

I never minded winter too much before.  Before this.  Although, to be fair, it has been quite some time since I really saw a full winter.  Two years, I guess.  Anyway – I don’t like this one.  I’ve been holding out – not wearing my full arsenal of clothing – until today.  Today I decided it was officially winter, and I was allowed to wear everything.  T-shirt under business shirt, under suit jacket, and then a big solid overcoat.  I think that should be enough.  I really really hope I don’t have to start considering wearing my merino under-garments as well.

But, enough exciting chat about the weather.  On to the staple of my updates – what’s been happening regarding the ‘social’ scene recently.  Well – with winter, comes winter sports.  Which means the rugby is in town.  Last weekend I hosted an extravaganza.  Election results coming in in the morning, followed by snacks and chit-chat, (oh – and I checked the league results once in a while) – leading into a roast lunch – followed by more chit-chat, and watching various rugby games.  Then – got all dressed up, and off to Chook’s for a party.  Which was pleasant.

Next day – snuck out of Chooks – and got home.  Just in time for my boss to call, asking me to do some work.  Sure – why not?  Did some work.  Then slept.  Then woke up – and went to the Local.  The locals at my Local were rather impressed the previous night by a dapper kiwi in a red suit.  Tonight – they were impressed by a dishevelled kiwi in jandals.  And then bare-feet.  Again – this was apparently the last night, ever, of the Local.  So – it was a fairly big one.  I got to go behind the bar to pour myself a Guinness.  Not once, but a few times.  That was pretty sweet.  But – eventually, the toll of the previous day caught up with me – and I slunk off home.  Despite promising myself that I’d work from home the next day – I just couldn’t stay awake any longer.  And in the morning, changed my mind – and rushed off to work.  Regretted it once I got there, of course, but – oh well.

Oh – and reaching back into the depths of my memory…

Last Tuesday a few of us went to see The Black Seeds.  The highlight of that evening was chatting to Barnaby Weir (lead singer) at the pub we were meeting at beforehand.  And old friend of Justin’s, you see.  And then Martin, who wasn’t aware of who he was – chatting with us as well.  I’m fairly sure I heard Marty ask Barnaby Do you know who the singer is for these guys, and who’s opening?  Barnaby, I’m not sure intentionally or not, just talked about the opening act.  I quietly chuckled.

And the previous weekend – I got up all early to go to a bar to watch NZ vs Australia.  Bar was closed – so all the way back home to watch it on dubious quality internet site.  Still – my favourite website during this sports season.  Every sport, free, on the internet.  Hurrah for internet.  Huzzah for nerds.  No need for nerds for the Englad vs NZ game though.  Oh no.  Well, hopefully.

Right – I should head off now.  Am on call – so have to get to the pool hall to get as many games in before I get called up, and have to leave.

Same old, same old.  Get up, it’s freezing.  Get on the tube – it’s stinkin’ hot from dozens of people crammed into a cigar tube.  Get out the other end, it’s freezing.  Get to work – and it’s freezing.  I’ve finally got a desk which I can kind of call my own – and it’s even a corner office.  Of a sort.  I’ve been thrown into a meeting room – but it is in the corner of the building – and I’ve got windows.  Can look out across the bland faces of 1970’s cheap housing blocks – and an in-the-process-of-being-built student accommodation.  But – the air-conditioning is stuffed – and it’s several degrees colder than elsewhere in the building.

Work is getting rather busy – as things are being rushed through before everybody involved goes bankrupt.  Then – catch the tube back home.  And stop off at the local for a couple of pints.  Of course, sometimes this turns into more than a couple.  I usually sit down, read a couple of newspapers, and then go home for some dinner.  Last Wednesday, however, I suddenly discovered the doors were being locked, and ashtrays brought out.  Finding myself in a shut-in on a Wednesday night wasn’t so good.  I scarpered home pretty quick smart.  Well, fairly quick – and not so smart.  I’ve also got to the point at the local where the barman, and a couple of regulars – buy me a pint once in a while.  On Saturday – a guy who sometimes sits at the bar, and is very quiet – spoke to me.  Asked if I was English.  I said no, and he said Ahh – I didn’t think so, you’re very tranquillo.  Tranquillo being calm, of course, in spanish amp; portuguese.   Turns out this guy was Portuguese – and we chatted for a while about how the Inglis are all loco.  And, of course, the Inglis obliged by proving our point.  Just so happened that that night, the normally very quiet pub was transformed by the presence of a dozen drunk ladies for a birthday or hen’s night or something.  Not so tranquillo.  When one of them hit the other, because she’d said something about her mother – the portuguese chap and myself shared knowing glances.  Locas.  And then some drunk pole started trying to order drinks for everybody – and trying to throw a 40 or 50 pound tip to the barman – who wouldn’t have a bar of it.  Eventually I went home – and did an hour or two more of work.

This weekend, however – looks like there won’t be any work for me to do.  Hurrah.  So – not sure what I’ll be doing.  I do have about 6 kilos of yerba mate to get through though – and I’ve been drinking a fair bit of that on the weekends.  Sit around, and pretend I’m back in Argentina/Uruguay.  Haven’t cooked a roast for a while either (well – one just for myself on Sunday) – so should maybe contact a few people about that.  Strangely – I’ve got no problem with buying, preparing, cooking, and serving the roast – but am too lazy to just send out an email or call people to invite them.  But – if anybody actually reads this anymore, and would like a roast (lamb, beef, chicken, pork) from all market-sourced ingredients – get in touch.