So, I'm back in the motherland. Fittingly, it seems to be overcast, chilly and raining, a kind of pathetic fallacy describing my return from the hot, beautiful scenes of southern Spain. As much as I liked the weather and surroundings, however, it is good to be back. After a week I have to say I was taking a little time to entertain the idea of getting a little villa and moving somewhere freer and of a more pleasing climate - but come the ten day mark, I had come back round to my more constant state of mind; that England is where I should be.
Predictably, i did not come through on my promise to post anything (save a brief gloat) whilst away, although I do have a couple of things I intend to write about - just not yet. I'm very tired, and have what is now medically know as 'EasyJet Ache' in my lower back. In the absence of these writings, I have a few things to say about what went on whilst I was gallivanting.
Firstly, the Ashes. We won them! Yes, yes, and I watched the spectacle in a bar in the small town of Competa. This was an experience entirely in contrast to the one I had in 2005. Firstly, there were approximately 3 people in the bar who gave even the smallest semblance of a fuck about what was going on some one thousand miles away in South-East London. Secondly, I wasn't with a whooping gaggle of friends, jeering at Australians. Thirdly, the winning moments were not swiftly followed by a drunken run to Tesco to purchase cava, and spray it on the patrons of our favourite pub. On the plus side though, I didn't have to go to work the next morning. The elation and excitement was somewhat subdued this time around, although it was still a buzz, and a great day.
Secondly, Chelsea have had a solid start to the new Premier League season (we can forget about conceding first to Hull and Sunderland now, can't we...), and Liverpool, well, haven't. Ben Mahon will be hearing about this. I won't say anything about Manchester United just yet, as the Blues are playing Burnley (or 'Hull2009') this weekend. I'm sure we'll put a stop to their giant killing ambitions though.
I'm sure most people who read this don't really care for sport, so I'll try to finish with something a little more appealing.
In fact, I don't think I will. Only really because I can't think of anything else to write now. So instead, here are some trailers for what is coming up on The Beames Report in the next couple of weeks:
Picasso, fuck off hills and an accordionist playing The Birdy Song in Malaga; the fact I'm 25 in eight days; two great books and one shit book etc etc etc.
db
P.S. Sorry for the lack of pictures, I'm tired and can't be bothered to put them in. Go on Google images, type in random words from the above text and find your own bloody pictures. Sometimes it feels like I do all the work around here.
Predictably, i did not come through on my promise to post anything (save a brief gloat) whilst away, although I do have a couple of things I intend to write about - just not yet. I'm very tired, and have what is now medically know as 'EasyJet Ache' in my lower back. In the absence of these writings, I have a few things to say about what went on whilst I was gallivanting.
Firstly, the Ashes. We won them! Yes, yes, and I watched the spectacle in a bar in the small town of Competa. This was an experience entirely in contrast to the one I had in 2005. Firstly, there were approximately 3 people in the bar who gave even the smallest semblance of a fuck about what was going on some one thousand miles away in South-East London. Secondly, I wasn't with a whooping gaggle of friends, jeering at Australians. Thirdly, the winning moments were not swiftly followed by a drunken run to Tesco to purchase cava, and spray it on the patrons of our favourite pub. On the plus side though, I didn't have to go to work the next morning. The elation and excitement was somewhat subdued this time around, although it was still a buzz, and a great day.
Secondly, Chelsea have had a solid start to the new Premier League season (we can forget about conceding first to Hull and Sunderland now, can't we...), and Liverpool, well, haven't. Ben Mahon will be hearing about this. I won't say anything about Manchester United just yet, as the Blues are playing Burnley (or 'Hull2009') this weekend. I'm sure we'll put a stop to their giant killing ambitions though.
I'm sure most people who read this don't really care for sport, so I'll try to finish with something a little more appealing.
In fact, I don't think I will. Only really because I can't think of anything else to write now. So instead, here are some trailers for what is coming up on The Beames Report in the next couple of weeks:
Picasso, fuck off hills and an accordionist playing The Birdy Song in Malaga; the fact I'm 25 in eight days; two great books and one shit book etc etc etc.
db
P.S. Sorry for the lack of pictures, I'm tired and can't be bothered to put them in. Go on Google images, type in random words from the above text and find your own bloody pictures. Sometimes it feels like I do all the work around here.
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