Deep Breath,

Last post from home soil, purely to mark the fact that the next one will be alllll the way down there. Hyperventilating slightly.

Oh. My. Fuck.

Tomorrow is the Big Day then. Feeling fairly nervy today. Down to my last quick load of washing and then I'll be properly fully completely totally packed. eeeeek.

Over the weekend, I went out for dinner with my Shrub, which was brilliant to fit in. We went to La Tasca and had some really tasty tapas and a yum big jug of sangria, before toddling on up to Katy's for a couple of pints. We ended up going back to mine and sitting up most of the night watching music on Youtube, and drinking straight Pincer vodka, which is much nicer than it sounds. That was also my last night sleeping in my bed because as of yesterday, it is now the lovely Jemima's bed. I spent it rather more spread eagled than usual because it was probably my last double bed experience for a while.

Then last night I managed to fit in one last pool session in Lavery's, with some friendly folk I managed to miss on Friday night. Cazi and I had eaten beforehand in the public bar and headed up pretty early, where I played what may well be the worst series of games of pool ever witnessed. It was almost like I was doing it on purpose to be funny, but I really fucking wasn't. Although it was funny. So, feeling faintly ridiculous, I just kept playing. Eventually I got my mojo back to a respectable level, saving me the shame of playing like a COMPLETE twat all evening.

Today, I just want to be gone already.

Other things of note:

• Things beyond your ken
• BelFest 2000
• Suck my bloodhole/love passage
• He is a venereal root
• Chights for fleap
• With or Without You on the way back up the stairs.
  

A Blast From the Past and My Last Friday in Lavery's For a While

This Thursday, the Killing Spree (last seen circa 2005) reformed to play a one off fundraiser in the Empire along with Ablespacer, Pocket Billiards and LaFaro. Brilliant, brilliant gig. The place was packed out, there was a great atmosphere and the Guinness was a-flowing! I was mighty impressed that the KS were so tight, considering that as Bernard lives in London, they didn't exactly get a lot of prep time beforehand, but they sounded immense. Got catching up with plenty of folk too - ended up having another ridiculous Buckfast and Beer session at And So I Watch You From LaFaro towers, although this time managed to refrain from boking in the sink. Go me.

Stumbled home after 9am in the sunlight, and crawled into bed until about 16.30. Felt very ropey indeed. Then trooped on down to Lavery's to meet up with as many friends and family as I could muster for 'Seeya Later' pints- it turns out that thats quite a crowd! It was great to see so many people out, a lot of whom didn't know each other at all, having a bit of craic. It took me a fair while to get going, but a quick bowl of chips and a sneaky wee boke sorted me right out eventually.

Other things of note:

• Pigeon fingers - cats are just wee monsters with bits of bird stuck under their claws.
  
• Jo and Dad left for Hong Kong this morning. This all feels very surreal still. Bit emotional today.
  
• Dyed my hair out of boredom, it is pretty red. I like it.
  

Just Another Manic Monday...

...Although this one is a clear contender for the 'Most Surreal Night of My Life Award' for sure.

The lovely lovely Dave Magee had offered me his plus one spot to the Snow Patrol gig on Monday evening (thanks Dave!). Now, I am hardly what you'd call a Snow Patrol 'fan', and seeing them twice in the same weekend for free is verging on the ridiculous, but sure. All of the LaFaro boys were heading down, and some of the Lowly Knights were singing backup for Iain Archer again so I was well up for a few jars. So we collect our tickets, toddle on round the front only to be told we can't get in that way, and that our VIP box was accesible by the next door round. VIP? Sweeeeeet... We find our hospitality box and immediately spy a fully stocked booze fridge. Unfortunately, it has a padlock on it. Ah well. We did have our very own waitress to bring us our pints though.

Fast forward through the gig, some schmoozing in the Odyssey aftershow bar and the Stiff Kitten after party, all of which were mighty enough craic for sure. Plenty of chat, dancing and much drinking. We ended up going round to Malmaison to Snow Patrol's plush suite - it had a frickin pool table in it. I really wish I had thought to take a photo of the part when Duke Special provided a rest for Cazi's cue for his shot on the black. With his own contorted body. Awesome. managed to get some game in myself - doubles, Me and Lightbody vs Caswell and David Healy. Honestly.


Not a mad fan of the phrase, but this definitely warrants an 'Ah, Funtimes indeed.'.

Other nominees for the award include that time I was at a party in Wellington Park, after we had been kicked out of another flat in Malone Avenue at 10am (the neighbours actually turned off the electricity in the building to shut us up). I was having a reflective moment, sitting on the floor cradling my bottle of Buck. I looked up and realised that Phil Hartnoll was sitting on the sofa, in a red kilt (no underwear by this stage, he had flung his red thong about the room earlier on), and on the wall behing him was an Orbital poster. I wish I had had my camera at that moment.

Then there was the time I was on the doorstep of the same house in Wellington Park waiting for everyone else to arrive. I think we had been in Auntie Annie's for somthing, and Therapy? had been doinf a DJ set afterwards. Andy Cairns is the next person to show up at the flat. I roll him a joint.

Other things of note:

• I had a triumphant day. Everything I want to bring fits in my backpack. Hurrah!
• Jemima is the new me in the house.
  
• The Wire stands up to repeat viewing.
• 'Oh, the Places You'll Go!' - thanks Ciaran X
• My last Boojum?
  

A Good Weekend

Friday night, I had originally planned to stuff in a double feature in the cinema with Cazi, who has sort of become my Cinema Person since Kate left - 'The Age of Stupid" first at the QFT followed by a quick hoof down the road to the Movie House for 'The Watchmen'. Instead, he offered me one of the Knight's passes to the Odyssey for the second of Snow Patrol's four shows there. This was especially cool because Cashier No.9 were supporting, and it was great to see some friends play such an important gig. A few of us managed to pretty much drink our way through a few dressing rooms, and ended up hanging out at a party until the birds began to sing again. Ouch.

On to the rugby. The last three matches of the Six Nations - Italy v France, England v Scotland and the Big One, Ireland v Wales. Kind of dozed off on the sofa during the second match, but managed to pull it together for IRELAND WINNING THE GRAND SLAM, EYYYYYYO! In true Irish rugby fashion, it was by no means a walk in the park, and came down the the last kick, a failed Welsh penalty from deep in the pitch. Sadly, the adrenaline just wasn't enough to keep me going, and I totally failed at going out. In hindsight, probably not a bad thing because I am still wrecked today. Am I beginning to lost the knack of this partying lark? I certainly fucking hope not...

Headed down to the Black Market today, saw a few folk and had a wee snoop around the stalls, then headed up to Moneyrea to see my Mum. At one point I had a wee wobbly lip moment when I was talking to her. I've asked her not to come to the airport with me when I am leaving because I don't think I will be able to deal with a big goodbye then - it was hard enough doing it with Kate when she went, but at least she had me with her then. I can't think of anything worse than breaking down in the airport, and then having to take three flights across the world (taking up the best part of two days) feeling miserable, which is exactly what will happen. So, I'm planning on doing the goodbyes on Monday, and taking a taxi over on Tuesday. Is this normal? I don't care, its just how I'm going to be able to cope.

All of these goodbyes looming are starting to really weigh me down, they are all coming so quickly.

Other things of note:

• Jade Goody died this morning, Mother's Day. Very sad, very quick, but I know I'm not alone in hoping that this raises the profile of cervical cancer awareness. Its a horrible disease, but almost completely preventable with the right screening.
• Miguel martin's £1 surprise art card tree. Awesome.
• Ludacris. Ha.
• I have sore legs.
  

Google Street View

Google street view was launched in some UK cities yesterday, Belfast being one of them. I consequently lost a large proportion of my day to virtually wandering around a city I have mostly already wandered around, a lot, in real life. Strangely exhilarating, and I'm sure I will appreciate being able to do so from New Zealand when I'm feeling far away.

For example, here is my house one sunny day last year. I must have been out, no car.


View Larger Map

I know for a fact I was definitely out on a street one day, with someone, when the car came by. I just can't for the life of me remember where I was, or who I was with. I have a feeling it was somewhere residential, and that I was stopped for some reason. Tying a shoelace? Possibly. Maybe someday I'll stumble across myself on the Newtowards Rd or something. More than likely, I won't.

Other things of note:

• I have come to accept that I will probably not see my house clean and tidy again before I leave, because I am certainly not going to fucking do it ALL again, alone, when very little of it is my muck. This gives me a heavy, sad sort of feeling in my belly. I hate my house dirty.

I Keep Thinking it's Friday

It's not, it's Thursday. Yesterday was Wednesday, and a particularly beautifully sunny one it was. Seeing as Tuesday was St Patrick's day though, I'd better start off there.

I got up and headed into town for 11.15am to meet the parade at City Hall as Jo, Rachel and myself were on float-pushing duty. They got the one with Breag on it, I got Gulliver with the Bohdron. Good craic had by all.

We then took ourselves and our hard earned cash to the Cloth Ear. I had a great stew, and one of Jo's mussels. Delicious. At some stage, we decided we should go and get tattoos, but when skinworks was closed we got distracted when we ran into Ricky and instead went to Made In Belfast to sit on their big comfy sofa and discuss their wide range of assorted cushions. We then managed to catch the second half of the School's Cup Final in Auntie Annie's (oh dear Inst, hang your heads in shame...), where the friend handover occurred as Rachel headed on and I ran into Sarah and Jonny. This set in motion the second act of the day, with much Guinness, tattoo planning with Majury and eventual relocation to Katy Daly's. I narrowly avoided a black eye during one phase of ridiculous dancing when I received an elbow to the ocular socket. Eventually, I ended up back at someone's flat until they all fell asleep and I left to phone a taxi. At 5am. In what looked like a supernatural fog that was probably hiding Stephen King-esque Cthulu type beasts.

In contrast to my relative good behaviour, the Holylands went completely fucking insane. QUB really need to grow a set of balls and deal with this. How anyone can be expected to live there is beyond me, and I certainly wouldn't ever live in the Queen's area ever again.

I somehow managed to have less than half the hangover I fully deserved the next day, dragged myself out of bed to go for lunch with Dad. It was gloriously sunny, and I realised I was appreciating it all the more as I was beginning to think that I'd miss the first nice day of the year. Brilliant!

Other things of note:

• I now have a terabyte of external storage. Eyo.
• I am now practically debt free for leaving, which is a huge relief.
• This beautiful sleeve. Stunning.
  

Fin. Next!

On Saturday, I hit the pub early for the Rugby with the Hosford lot. When I say 'Hosford lot', take the 'lot' part literally - I was so pleased that so many friends from work, past and present, came out to say goodbye. Of course, I had a wee cry. And Ireland won.

Unfortunately, it seems I have no peers at (ex)work who can match my drinking stamina (booooo that), and they all rolled home before 12. I, however, went on down to Lavery's and had a whole other night out with a whole other set of friends. Saw Cutaways, played some pool, drank some Buckfast, hung out with some friends I hadn't seen in ages and rocked up home for 3am. I couldn't seem to get my key to work in the front door and ended up climbing in a window - with hindsight, I'm lucky not to have broken my neck!

Then on Sunday I went down to the Holi Festival in St George's Market with Jo, and met up with Rachel down there just in time to play with the colours in the arena. I haven't had as much fun in ages - apparently all I need is some loud bhangra music, some coloured paint powder and a few hundred strangers to get over a wretched hangover. The hot Spanish men on the paella stall didn't hurt either, to be fair.
There is something incredibly liberating about the whole experience, feeling unfamiliar hands on your face smearing colours all over, and returning the favour, watching people smiling with their big painty happy faces. I'd do it every day if I could.

Afterwards, Rach and I went round to ikon in the Black Box. The theme was 'Thrown Together', and the whole experience was very reflective, lots of silence. It all felt very relevant to me personally - I thought a lot about recording moments and experiences, how I have traditionally been very lazy that way, how I am making an effort to change that. The very existence of this blog is testament to that. I wondered why I feel compelled to do this now, what is the value of a written or visual record of a moment as long as I have my memory? Maybe I'm afraid I will forget. I don't even have an answer. I'm hoping to experience a lot of being 'thrown together' while I am away, fleeting human contact, transient moments that I can't recreate. I want to make sure I will always have them.

The thing I am avoiding the most now is packing away all the crap I'm leaving behind. I'm going to try and throw a lot of it out, I'm sure I don't need any of it. I do want to get it out of the way sooner rather than later, it would be great to get it all done so I don't have to think about it. Today though, I have updated my CV and started to properly look out jobs. Money is the only part of going away I am still considerably apprehensive about.

Endings, But Not Beginnings Just Yet

Tonight has seen me enter the limbo of having finished work, but not quite leaving the country just yet. I held up better than I had expected, although a tear may have escaped on the short drive home despite my best efforts. It was a shift containing most elements of what Hosford is about - eating more chocolate than can possibly be healthy, not managing to meet with residents I should really be meeting because they aren't in, asking someone to leave and then having to arrange a police 'escort' to get them out of the building, a fit of histrionics, a few tenancy offers and a fair amount of reading the news. And then reading it again. One thing I didn't realise I'd forgotten until just now, though - I did not play my ceremonial final game of pool. Oh well.

I'm really looking forward to tomorrow, which is my Official Leaving Work Piss Up. I'm trying to gather as many of the Hosford lot together as I can so we can install ourselves upstairs in the Errigle to watch the rugby all day in the company of pints and pies. Tomorrow is, after all, International Pi Day.

I really can't compute that I won't be at the staff meeting on Monday. Shit, just realised I also forgot to clear out my pigeon hole. Shit.

Other things of note:

• That one will come to a sticky end...
  

Ah, the Inevitable Neglect

This was going to happen, really. I haven't got a great track record for keeping these things up. 'Must Try Harder'.

Various things have happened this week, too; I spent an evening in the company of two old school friends playing catch up with some bottles of fizz, which was brilliant. Unfortunately the same night, we were thrust back into the 90's with the news of a dissident republican attack at the Massarene barracks in Antrim which resulted in the deaths of two young soldiers.

Then on Monday, I toodled along to the Ulster Hall for the first time in years. I actually can't remember what I was there for last. Anyway, a plethora of local talent had been harvested for the occasion, each to play one of their own songs and a cover of a track by a band they themselves have had the pleasure of seeing in the Hall. I had the pleasure of knowing a fair few of those involved in acts performing, which makes me simultaneously swell with pride and feel like a big talentless lump. I particularly enjoyed The Lowly Knights (splendid version of The Divine Comedy's 'Something for the Weekend'), Cashier No 9, Foy Vance, The Panama Kings (great cover of Ash's 'A Life Less Ordinary'), FWW/Jetplane Landing, and Neil Hannon who made my cheeks hurt from smiling at his rendition of the Pixie's 'Gigantic'.

Segue to arriving home to the news that a PSNI officer had been shot dead in Craigavon. I mean, fuck. Aren't we done with this crap? I did, however, take heart from seeing Peter Robinson, Martin McGuinness and Hugh Orde stand together on the steps of Stormont to condemn the attacks together - if they are going to provoke any reaction, a show of political solidarity like this is a refreshing first for Northern Ireland, rather than a thoughtless reactionary Loyalist hit-back. In the days following these awful killings, there have been reports of bomb scares, car searches, funerals; all the muck we used to be accustomed to. I only hope that this is as bad as it gets, and that we can all be fucking adult about this. Deep breaths, everyone...

And most excitingly, my friend Bethany gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, Milo Robert Bradley. I can't wait to meet him - I have been moderately broody since being introduced to a Service User's 4 day old, 3 week premature daughter in work last week. So tiny, and perfect, helpless and hopelessly dependent. Babies are amazing, incomprehensible, perfect beings. Please don't fret though, I am entirely happy hogging cuddles with other people's babies for now.

Other things of note:

• 'Roast me a chicken and give me a bubble bath'
• If you put a pillow on him, he will go to sleep
• CC - 'Right, there are too many people in this office.' CL - 'Byee'
• I miss toilet paper
• 'Dammit, I'm just so complex'

...

I really, truly just don't have anything intelligent to say just yet. Or even just anything, even. Still digesting this and its consequences. Absolute disappointment, disgust, sadness.


Fuck.

My Favourite Poem?

He Wishes For the Cloths of Heaven

HAD I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

W B Yeats

Just Wondering

Is it a waste of valuable time to reread a book? I don't think I think so, but I still feel guilty sometimes for revisiting the familiar volumes when I could be getting round to the heaps of unread ones I have lying around. There is just something really comforting about reading something that I know I love. I could just be having a wee ponder, and will remember from nowhere the story, or style, or even just a phrase (most likely paraphrase, I am terrible with specifics) from something I read years ago and will feel compelled to hunt it out and do it again. It could be something my P5 teacher read to the class in installments the best part of 20 years ago - I once had to search frantically for a copy of The Eagle of the Ninth by Rosemary Sutcliffe just to sate my appetite for Primary School nostalgia material.

It frustrates me that I can't seem to find the time to get round to the new stuff when all it takes is a glance at the cover of an old favourite and I am bound to read the whole thing - and probably manage it in record time.

Other things of note:

• Dingleberries. Not what you think.
  
• "All beauty must die"
• Getting packages in the post is lovely

Edit - Completely incidentally, just found out that today was World Book Day. Would love to say I knew all along and posted this to be topical, but alas no.

These Posts May Not Always Have Titles in the Future. Naming Them Can be Tedious.

Today has mostly been spend fretting about money, as I really thought about how much I am going to need whilst away in some detail. Not a terrible lot I can be doing about that now anyway, except win the lottery. And as a colleague kindly pointed out to me the other day, one really needs to buy a ticket to be in with any chance of winning, however slim.

This did prompt me to check the state of my bank account today though, which I do shamefully infrequently. When I looked at my Visa to check if a recent payment had gone through, I noticed a debit of £4.99 had come out which was marked 'microsoft'. Eh? After some more sleuthing and chatting to fairly unhelpful call centre staff, all I managed to discover was that these payments have been coming out for quite some time without me noticing, with the odd extra one for good measure. I have absolutely no clue what they might be, but would have added up to a nice going away bonus if they hadn't disappeared... Going to have to go in to the branch to sort this one.

Other things of note:

• Trypophobia. I believe I may be trypophobic. More on this later...
• Spam telling me 'Your sister is in danger'. Think I'd rather have 'Wish you had lager breasts?' or 'a hot jackhammer rocked the hell out of minnie'
• '#fun fun fun 'til her Daddy takes the Clio away#'
• Potluck wedding

Another Day, Another Dollar

Today I have done nothing of consequence yet really. Went to work, did the crossword (needed some help with 11 across), chased some baby hoodlums who were intent on playing football in the car park, came home. Oh, cancelled my Sky subscription, that was sort of consequential I suppose. And symbolic, too - the first thing I have cancelled. What a horrible concept. Cancelling my life here. Ick.

I just had a conversation with someone there that made me feel like crap actually. He was asking how long I had left to go here, all the usual, and I told him. Finishing my job next week - which effectively leaves me unemployed for the first time ever, tying up loose ends, seeing people for potentially the last time in I don't even know how long etc, and that all of this was making me feel really sad actually. He replied "My God, you don't know how good you have it!". It was just a throwaway comment, but it upset me. I realised how ungrateful I must be sounding lately, which makes me feel like a real shit. Most people never get this opportunity and all I seem to be doing is yap about it. So I have resolved to try my best to suck it up and get on with it. We'll see how that goes...

Other things of note:

• colloquial arabic, now ready for collection at the Holywood Road Library
• fricking cool

The Weekend, in brief.

Another weekend mostly fueled by 6 nations rugby (unsatisfactory games, but the right results), Guinness, films (The Princess Bride and Che:Part 2) and good company. This right here is what I will miss - low key, unplanned, inexpensive and craic aplenty.

This weekend also brought the end of February and the beginning of my final month in this hemisphere. Sniff. Still alternating between being very zen about the whole thing because it doesn't really feel real, and completely freaking out. Leaning more towards the freaking out as time marches on though. Marches, through March. Geddit? I do love a bit of word play, me.

Other things of note:

• "Cushenan on your Bum Shoulders"
• The Twins and Pravo Jazdy
• The Lion who looks like he is at a press conference