Coastalblog

The festive season is upon us, and it is incumbent upon everyone (apparently - I had a threatening email this morning from some group calling themselves the Konsistently Khristmas Kommitee informing me that if I failed to mark the season in any way then my life was forfeit. They also mentioned a couple of you by name and made B-movie throat-slitting gestures, so, y'know, I'm doing this for all of you) to force an end of year round-up upon the unwilling public. So, upon pain of ice-pick, here it is: JANUARY Slept, mostly. FEBRUARY: Attempted to snowboard, realised quickly that I am by design a home-loving bookworm for a REASON MARCH: Hmm, anyone remember March? APRIL: The Shower broke, other more sub judice things occurred. All good clean fun. MAY: See March, though with added wondering as to whether "occurred" is really how you spell "occurred". I know it is, but it just doesn't feel right. I said hi to London, London waved a vague hand in response. JUNE

Some of you may recall that at the start of this year I indicated that I intended reading fifty books this year. I would link to the fifty book challenge, or the relevant I Love Books thread, but frankly I'm too drunk tired to do so. Anyway, the challenge was completed at about half past four this afternoon. Those of you who are perceptive enough to notice a preponderance of light fiction towards the end of it will correctly deduce something of a sprint finish on my part, but also you must be aware that I've had one day off in the last three weeks and it's all I'm bloody capable of. So you can take your well-thumbed copies of the gulag archipelago and shove them up your time-rich arses. The great thing about looking back over the list is that each book on it reminds me of something, be it location, state of mind, weather, quality of light....it's hard to say. It's been a pretty good read, I was particularly thrilled by Dashiel Hammett (and therefore it's ki

You know what's great? Winning money by knowing stuff. Particularly when pub denizens growl "Smartarse" at you and you reply "that's mr sixty pounds richer smartarse to you." Made particularly great by doubting teammates being convinced I wouldn't know the answer. We still came fucking second, though, damn those old people who have had more time to learn incidental bollocks than us. You know what's even greater? Two seperate people have found coastalblog by googling "Ormskirk seed pods." If only they'd googled EIGHT FUCKING METRES TALL BRONZE GLOWING SEED PODS that would have been even greater. Welcome, come one come all to the web's number one ormsirk resource (I get a load of googlers for the Arriba, too, god only knows what impression they get. But this one's just for them: THE ARRIBA IS WHERE YOU GO WHEN YOU HAVEN'T EVEN GOT ENOUGH SELF RESPECT TO PAY FOR WHORES YOU RIDICULOUS BASTARDS. THE ARRIBA IS WHERE YOU GO WHEN YO

Hello all. My repeated apologies for the paucity of posts, I've been working every day for the last two weeks and am generally too shattered at the end of the day. My computer time is largely limited to phd and teaching related matters at the moment. this state of affairs probably won't continue (I'm making sure I take some time off over the next couple of weeks, as well as most of january). What work, you cry? Well, I'm currently helping a couple of places out by sorting out their waiting on staff, tidying up the bar / putting various managerial stuff in order / organising booking procedures / training staff / that sort of thing. A short term solution, but an effective one. It's rather enjoyable, if I'm being honest. You all know how boringly evangelical I can get about standards of service, quality of stock and all round enjoyment of the dining experience, so it's good to get the opportunity to put some of these theories into practice with a free hand (whi

Gentle reader, I beg your forgiveness for the scarcity of updates as currently stands. This is due to working myself in the ground in order to buy presents to celebrate the festival of a deity I have no interest in. I'm not entirely sure how I fell for it but needs must etc etc. I have, however found a few scant seconds away from the coalface to enlighten you as to the ongoing saga surrounding the proposed EIGHT FUCKING METRES TALL BRONZE GLOWING SEED PODS that WLDC propose to plant at the top end of Aughton street ("The Gateway To Aughton"). Well, sad to report, but our council's far-seeing, nay, visionary proposal have met with naught but beefy disdain from the town's ruddy-cheeked traders. As one they have turned their broad, materialistic backs upon the mystical vision whch even now haunts my dreams. Yea, even the mighty Scott's butchers, which in its policy of selling as much game as is humanly possible I have hitherto regarded as a beacon of sanity in an