The wrst thing is, about leaving this blog for so long is the old “where to start” mentality. I’ve had so many good moments, shocking moments, and moments where I’ve made myself an absolute menace it’s untrue. 2011 has certainly been an interesting year.

there’s no other place to begin, and possibly finish this post too, the subject of streetlighting. Come on, I’ve been away for 90 days, if you expected anything different from this blog, you’ve obviously not been reading for 11 years. For the first time in 1995, Mercuryvapour Towers is once again lit by mercury vapour, and I’m not talking about one of my silly little “OMG! I can see one if I lean out of the bathroom window and twist my nick 180 degrees”. And I’m also not talking about plugging my AC Ford AC850 in and shining it up at the house. No, thanks to a fortunate turn of circumstances, my street once again has a mercury vapour light in it. It’s a historic moment for me. the last time mercury shone these streets, I was 15, and although it seems strange to say, back then, I hated mercury lights.

I’d grown up with them. Every street that wasn’t a main road was lit by them. Very few were lucky enough to have SOX, and that was what I wanted at the time. I’d draw pictures of mercury coulmns being smashed, and a new hockey stick column with a SOX lantern ready to replace it. Mercury was nothing to me. They were as common as dogshit. I never thought I’d see the day when mercury would be a rarity.

Times changed, and so did the lights. I remember, walking home from school and seeing the old GEC Z5590s nearby had been replaced with shiny new Beta 79s. I ran home, excited to see if Mercuryvapour Towers had received the same treatment. No! The replacements stopped half way up. Still, I knew that it would be the end very soon for mercury in this part of the world. I remember the next day, leaving for school. It was still dark, and the lantern was still on. I knew, as the car reversed out of the square, I would never get to see mercury in my street again. Part of me was happy It sort of felt nice to be “upgraded”. Sure enough, I returned home from school, and it was gone.

I can’t be certain of the exact date it happened, but I remember explaining to one of my friends in a text file (think: precursor to email… I’d type something rather like this, save it onto disk, he’d type something in reply, give me back the disk, etc.) how much I wasn’t going to miss MBF lighting, being surprised that I didn’t wake up with a suntan due to the ultraviolet they kick out… see, I was brainy back then… not! Some 17 years pass. We’re back in the present day. I could walk downstairs, look out of the window and see an image I last saw in my childhood… the registered address of mercuryvapour.co.uk bathed in mercury vapour light! Yes, I did see the first official switch-on. I was filming it too, but managed to miss it with the camera.

Right, that’ll do for the lights. Other things have been happening. It’ll be easier to refer to Twitter from now. on…

Pub quiz. Would have done well if it wasn’t for those pesky Brazil nuts! (4 Oct)
I now regularly attend a pub quiz at the Schooner, with various other people from work, whenever we’re free on a Tuesday. Get a three-course meal for less than a fiver, drink bottles of Carlsberg for £1 each, and do utterly bollocks at the pub quiz. This was our first week, and we finished last, all because Gary was adamant that the biggest producer of Brazil nuts beginning with B was Brazil. Wrong. It’s Bolivia.

I’m at The Paramount (Wetherspoon) (33-35 Oxford St., Portland St., Manchester) (5 Nov)
Jamie S wanted to buy some stuff from the official Man City store. He ended up with a car air freshener that didn’t actually smell of anything, and a tax disc holder. I ended up with a bag of CDs. One of the cases didn’t actually have a CD in. Also, a steak was eaten. Rab (who I’ve not mentioned on here before, but is an ex-work colleague (though the way things are going at the moment, EVERYONE will be an ex-work colleague shortly)), decided the smoking ban in pubs wasn’t for him…

We also attended the fireworks display at Stockton…

My photography sucks.

I’m at Westgarth Social Club for Siskiyou (99 Southfield Road, Woodlands Road, Middlesbrough) (11 Nov)

On the night of my previous posting, me, Jamie and Rab attended a gig in Middlesbrough. I’d not heard of the band before, but I did enjoy them, and now have both of their albums. The lead singer, from Canada, liked my description of The Sage as the Shiny Condom.

Eating something else other than fries (@ McDonald’s) (3 Dec)
Get this. for 31 years of my live, I’d never actually been to a McDonalds, and ordered anything other than “fries and a drink”. God’s honest. I was never introduced to them as a child. therefore I have never needed them, nor missed them. On my first full day of being 32 years of age, Me, Jamie S and Rab were in York. After standing up for the entire train journey (from Thornaby to York), we were hungry. Every place we tried was absolutely rammed. A mixture of abject disappointment and near starvation drove us to Maccy D’s. Knowing I wouldn’t survive on fries alone, I got Jamie S to point something out on the menu that wasn’t a burger or covered in sauce. I ended up with some chicken objects, fries and a drink. Getting there, slowly but surely.

Just received spam for a maccy d’s gift card. Think I’ll pass. (5 Dec)
After my above posting, you’d blame me? On my quest to try new stuff, this day was the first time I’d ever had Nandos. Won’t be the last, either.

I got a taxi at 8AM, picking Chris up on the way (he’s also one of the 15 members), dropping us off at the bus stop outside of the college at about 8:10. The coach wasn’t due until 8:30.

At approximately 8:45, the coach finally turned up. We boarded, and headed off around the North East, picking up other eager tourists ready for the trip. As soon as the last one got one board, the driver finally introduced himself via the microphone. After the formalities were dealt with, he said something like “So, you’re off to Nottingham… may I ask… why?”

I can’t remember his name, but he shall, from now on, he known as “Happy Harry”. Considering we were only technically there for a night and a full day, it wasn’t exactly heartwarming to have a bus driven by a cynic…

He announced there would be a stop-off in Derby. I won’t bore you with the details of the journey there (or how Chris almost got charged £89 for a bottle of drink, two sausage rolls and a copy of Viz), as most of it was spent, drifting out of consciousness whilst chuckling at the articles in Chris’s afore-mentioned adult comic.

So, we approached Derby. Imagine the scene, as we head along the road, only to be faced with red traffic lights, and a bloke peering out of his flat, stark bollock naked. I don’t think he quite planned to be waved at by a group of “tourists” laughing their heads off. Of course, he backed away pretty sheepishly after this. Classy, Derby. Very classy.

Of course, Happy Harry then managed to take a wrong turning, meaning we got to see more of the centre of Derby than we needed to. He then dropped us off at what appeared to be a random bus stop, and said he would pick us up there. You want to know how random the bus stop was? Here you go… Linkage

Hardly suitable for buses, never mind coaches. It’s pointing at the Babington Arms, which is a pub, just in case you’re thick and didn’t realise it from that link. Either way, it would appear that not only did we have a cynic driving the bus, it was a cynic with no sense of direction. Joy.

It was a Wetherspoons, so you know what to expect. It was also the place where the first photo of me got taken, shamelessly stolen from Facebook…

After two hours we were all ready to go and get set up at the hotel. Happy Harry had other ideas, as we arrived in Nottingham, circled the hotel, and then went in completely the wrong direction to find the entrance. His apology once again, came over the coach tannoy system… “What a bloody stupid place to put a hotel”…

After what seemed like an eternity sorting out the keycards, we made our way up to the hotel room. Thanks to some name juggling, according to their system I was called Barry. It shall stay this way for the entire time I was there.

Upon first impression, the room was excellent. 7th floor, two double beds. It even had two bathrooms which means two toilets. Therefore, any outfall caused by excessive vindaloo consumption could be kept to a bare minimum. Bonus. I recorded another stupid “wish You Were Here” style video, but it needs editing badly. The view wasn’t the best. A call centre (complete with Aspect telephones) to the left, a car park to the centre, and other modern buildings to the right…

After dumping the bags, and getting a bit of a cleanup, we headed off looking for a bite to eat. Close friends and relatives will know that I scoured Google Maps to see if there was an indian nearby. Not one, not two. Not even four. there were SIX within spitting distance of the hotel. Unfortunately, most were expensive, and were shut. We were inspecting the menu of one of the couple of open ones, a place called “Chutney”. One of the waiters came out and thrust a 20% voucher into my paw. This was looking tempting. Actually, I lie. With that little piece of paper in my hand, my mind was already made up…

We went there!

It was exceptional. Food was great, staff were friendly and yeah, the discount stuck. Happy days.

The same, however, can’t be said for the hotel bar. The Blackpool trip featured entertainment in a root big enough to be used as a conference centre. Fair enough, it wasn’t top notch entertainment, but it kept us sane, and the beer was acceptable for hotel standards.

That was Blackpool. This hotel’s night facilities consisted of a tiny room, Entertainment came in the form of (wait for it) 6 games of bingo, should you choose to pay for it. If you didn’t, you just had to sit there and drink your “free bar”. That is, if you like watered down beer. I had a bit of toothache, and was on a full stomach, so I thought it was just me who thought it was as weak as kittens. Thankfully it wasn’t.

Disappointed with the free bar, we headed out into the city, eventually settling in the Roebuck Inn. It seemed pretty quiet, and that name “Wetherspoons” cropped up again. I introduced Chris to Jaegerbombs, which he didn’t enjoy. He introduced me to something stunning. Don’t ask me what they call it. It was apple juice and some newly available cinnamon liqueur. I DID enjoy this. I have no idea how he found it, but he knows of my love for apple and cinnamon. Therefore, the two combined in some kind of alcoholic beverage was out of this world. Towards the end of the night I remember having a good crack on with the bar staff. It was this place that made me really begin to like Nottingham.

Day 2 was only a sleep away…

For those of you who see me as a bit of a miser, someone who would drop a penny and have it hit me on the back of the head, you’d be surprised to learn that I’ve spent a “considerable” amount of money over the last couple of days. Plans were made a couple of weeks ago, by Dick Brown, to go out on the lash on Thursday, 3rd March. This involved also getting me some new clobber. I’m not the most fashionable of people. If it’s not folded up on a shelf in Matalan / Primark, I just don’t bother with it. I’m too old to be “trendy”. Mr. Brown offered to meet me the day before, and offer me his infinite wisdom when it comes to all things fashion…

I could hardly wait. Jamie S came to the rescue, and announced that he was going to the Metro Centre with another one of my “work colleagues”, Davvi, and that we were more than happy to tag along. I think my exact words were “Woohoo!”

Everything was arranged, including the times to get picked up, even down to the budget I was willing to spend. I had a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Brown was going to drop out, so I dropped some bait on Twitter after I’d gotten in from work…

Waiting for @thedickbrown a.k.a. Gok Brown to work his designer magic. 6:29 AM Mar 2nd via web

Sure enough, when it came to getting picked up at approximately 1PM, I was broken the ‘bad’ news, that he had indeed dropped out….

On a scale of 1-10, @thedickbrown is a pussy. 1:12 PM Mar 2nd via TweetDeck

I’d like to say I was surprised. I really wasn’t. That means, there were three of us left. Me, Jamie S and Davvi. Therefore, we left Hartlepool, sans Barney-Rubble-With-A-Beard, and headed up the A19/A1 to the CENTRE OF METROS!

So, there we were. In the North East’s largest shopping centre, ready to buy clothes for the night out of awseomeness arranged by Dick Brown. Where was our first stop? Yes, you’re entirely correct – a record shop named “That’s Entertainment”. And I’ll tell you something, it’s absolutely superb. It’s where all of the old CDs go to die. Nowhere else on this planet has a shelf full of “The Awards 1989″. I’m quite sure it’s the first time I’ve ever walked into a shop and almost lost the entire contents of a testicle. Needless to say I spent ~£25, and walked out with a bag of CDs that would weigh me down for the rest of the day. I didn’t even touch the DVD section.

The time I spent in there was disputed. Jamie S claims I spent an hour in there. I reckon it was shorter, as I would have spent a hell of a lot more.

The clothes shopping began, and I entered shops I normally wouldn’t dream of going into. The reason for this, was every pricetag appeared to be 10 times more than I was willing to pay. Take the jeans for example. Maybe I’m missing a trick, or just not getting the joke, but why buy “distressed” jeans? As in the ones purposely ripped / faded? The more I try to get my head around it, the more I think that they’re so scruffy, I couldn’t even wear them to work. Why would I want to spend £80 on them? I’ve got jeans that I wouldn’t even leave out for the poly-bag

An amusing episode occured in Foot Locker. Jamie S saw some shoes. They weren’t bad to be honest. Black and yellow “Penguin” things. He goes off to the counter… and after a hell of a lot of rummaging, it turned out they only had the left shoe in stock. Oh, my *sides*. I must admit, that’s happened to me before in shoe shops, but it still remains a mystery how / why it can happen.

After many hours of shopping, all three of us were hungry and dehydrated. Unfortunately, my suggestion of heading to the indian restaurant (which I didn’t know existed, until I smelt it, and instantly lost the contents of my other testicle) was rejected, meaning we had to go to a “normal” place. I’d heard good things about Frankie + Benny’s, as in nice food. Unfortunately, nobody told me about the price.

The beer was £3.10 a glass. I’m not sure if this is a record for what I’d paid, but I wasn’t too bothered. You’re in the middle of a shopping centre. I just wanted my throat wetting. The cost of the starters / main course were reasonable, I suppose, but the mistake *I* made was when the waiter asked… “Would you like some onion rings?” The room fell silent. I’m sure there were people gesturing me to say ‘no’ on other tables, but I must have interpreted it as a bout of wind. Surely they were complimental. I can’t think of anything cheaper to make. Yes, I ordered the onion rings. Some guy, three tables away just shook his head. The look of disappointment on the other two’s faces made me think instantly that something had gone south.

The meal came. I went for the steak, medium, well-done. It arrived, and it was delicious. The onion rings weren’t far behind. there were literally 7 of them. Davvi had one, and found them too spicy. I must admit, after one bite, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Unfortunately, the bill was next, after we’d gorged ourselves.

I’m not too bothered about everything else, however, the onion rings were… £3.55. No, I’m not shitting you. Three pounds, fifty-five pence. For 7. OK, they were the best onion rings I’d ever had, but that’s not the point. They must have saw me coming. (insert ejaculation joke here).

I didn’t mention that I did actually find some decent clothes in this whole trip. I also found a new jacket, and £3 Primark plimmies to top off the look. It can’t have all been expensive…

The day started off early. I awoke at about 6AM, bursting for a piss. Unfortunately, thanks to the sound the toilet makes, this wasn’t something that could be done quietly, so Chris was also awake by this point. Attempts to get back to sleep were rudely interrupted by the sound of the old guy in the next room being sick. We weren’t sure if it was the food that caused it, or an excessive amount of alcohol, but my word, he could have chonked for England. It must have lasted around half an hour and by then we were fully awake. Brekkers wasn’t being served until about 7:30, so after getting ready, we spent a good hour or so wandering around the hotel. We could have went outside, but the good old english weather had taken hold by this point.

Some time later, off we jolly well popped to the breakfast room. This was also the same room where the entertainment was, and we had nothing to worry about when it came to getting a seat. It was absolutely massive. It was more like a warehouse. In fact, it was even lit by mercury vapour lights. I wasn’t that hungry anyway, so I grabbed a few pieces of toast and about 8 glasses of orange juice.

The coach to Liverpool wasn’t until 9:30, so after having breakfast, we headed back to the room. there wasn’t much to do in the room. I certainly didn’t want to touch the bible…

I made a short video showing some of the room’s “features”, which I’ll probably need to edit down. Unfortunately, the “Windows Movie Maker” facility in Windows 7 is complete garbage, so I’ll have to wait until I get on the laptop to edit it properley. As a bit of an experiment, I’ve created a video of the epic hairdryer…

(I really, really hate the new Windows Movie Maker. If anyone has any free alternatives, let me know.)

Anyway, we boarded the coach for Liverpool, and that’s where the fun and games started. Apparently, there was one coach that had the city tour, for £6. The other two coaches would just drop you in the Albert Dock (not literally, of course), so you could go and walk around at your own leisure. By a twist of fate, we’d got on the correct one, as someone on the other non-tour coach had a suspected heart attack. Delays were also caused by some of the people actually wanting to go on the city tour, but now couldn’t.

One whinging old scrote even had the cheek to say “Eeee, well that’ll be another complaint letter going in”. I’m sorry, what? You’re going to complain because you’re getting a free trip to Liverpool, which you didn’t even know about 24 hours before? No, you silly cow, you put a letter of complaint in when they leave you there, and you have to walk back.

The journey was uneventful. I had my headphones in for most of the journey. Nowt like being a bit anti-social once in a while. I attempted to get some sleep, something I rarely do on a coach. I managed about a half-hour of dozing, before waking up as we crossed the River Ribble. Rain followed us the whole way down until we actually got to Liverpool, where it just seemed to mysteriously stop. The coach dropped us at the Albert Dock. You may remember this as being the location of the old “This Morning” studio. Now, maybe I’m just used to seeing it on telly, in the sunshine, but one thing that struck me, is how small it actually was. Normally, you see sights on telly, and they turn out to be bigger in real life, but the Albert Dock really didn’t seem that big at all..

A lot of it was dedicated to the Beatles museum. I’m possibly the only person to have ever visited Liverpool, and rated the thought of going around a Beatles museum as a “meh”. I could only see it being overpriced. I’m not a great fan of their work. Like all bands, there’s some good stuff and a lot of mediocre stuff. I only like ‘Hey Jude’ because of the clearly audible “Fucking Hell” at 2:58. Listen to it with headphones, you’ll hear what I mean. Actually, that’s not quite true, I think it’s a brilliant song, but it’s not worth walking around a museum for!

I’ll tell you something though, I’m actually *glad* I went to Liverpool. About 3 weeks ago, I woke up with a small piece of music in my head, from the middle of a song. I obviously can’t explain in txt what it went like, but it was from the version of the “Liver Birds” theme music I’d ripped from LP at the back end of last year. Unfortunately, this revelation had me unintentionally whistling the afore-mentioned theme music whilst pointing my camera in the general direction of the Liver Buildings…

After wandering without aim, we headed towards Liverpool One. Apparently, it’s a shopping centre, or something. Going shopping with me is incredibly boring. Unless I am actually going specifically to purchase something, I’ll visit two shops. HMV and Greggs. This, however, was a bit of a special occasion, as I went into another shop, in order to stock up on cheap t-shirts, and replacement socks (something which I’d also forgotten to pack). Chris spent £2.99 on an umbrella. Remember that for later.

HMV, despite being huge, didn’t have any spectacular offers, and Greggs appear to have ditched their corned beef pasties for “Potato and Meat”.

We walked around the streets for about half an hour, before we witnessed this sad sight…

Yep, there’s another classic Thorn Alpha 3, about to be taken down and scrapped. In fact, there were a few in that road about to suffer the same fate. Shame.

After I mopped up the tears, we realised we’d walked round in a big circle, and walked down Water Street, back to the Liver Buildings. By this point, my feet were killing me. I’m not getting old, I blame the uneven beach I was walking on the day before. We walked back to the Albert Dock, and got some refreshments in the “Costa” that just happened to be in the entranceway.

The penultimate stop on our journey just had to be the wheel. You may remember my trip to York with Coatesy, where they had the large ferris wheel outside of the railway museum. Well, the wheel had repositioned itself to outside of the large arena on the docklands. I love these things, and even at the £7.50-each price tag, it was worth a go.

I took a few photos, but not that many, as most of the time I was recording video. While I enjoyed every second of the ride, Chris didn’t exactly enjoy it. He really doesn’t like heights! This had the undesired effect of getting some quality footage of him absolutely bricking it. OK, I didn’t help, with phrases such as “It’s draughty up here, isn’t it?” and “It’s got a bit of a wobble when the winds hit it”… I’m quite sure if the wheel had went round one more time, he’d have had a panic attack.

It would be wrong of me to post a video. Expect one coming soon when I get the lappy sorted out. In the meatime…

We had a walk around the dock one more time, and raided a sweet shop as our final location. I bought several packets of large Parma Violets. I absolutely love these. Oh, and some cola Wham bars. I must admit, it was an awesome shop. It smelt just like Bretts in the town centre, but without their epic toffee apples.

So, that was the day. It was 3PM, and as Kauto Star failed to make it a fifth King George VI Chase victory, we boarded the coach, and headed back to Blackpool. Again, the headphones were in, and I dozed for most of the journey using my coat as a pillow. I awoke just as we were to cross the Wiver Wibble. I’d have thought it was pretty coincidental, but I think the reason I woke up was because I’d drooled all over the coat, and it was now stuck to the side of my face. Pleasant.

We arrived back to the hotel, and began to pack. It seems strange how light and easy to pack the bag was before I left, but how heavy and full it was…

We set off at about 6PM, for our second and final journey to the indian mentioned on Part 1. Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t as kind to us, with light rain falling, and a bit of a breeze. Chris took his newly purchased umbrella out with us. He stood in the entrance to the hotel for about a minute, trying to get the umbrella to stay up. Literally three steps away from the hotel building, the entire thing blew inside out, and was completely ruined. I was absolutely no sympathy, as I howled with laughter in the car park, barely able to walk in a straght line for about 10 minutes. It was, quite literally, the funniest moment of 2011 so far, and it’d take a hell of a lot to top it. Irony ensued, as the rain started to die off, and we arrived at the indian totally bone dry.

I was tempted to get the vindaloo, but instead, I just settled for the madras again. After all, I had the bus home to contend with the next day. If anything, the meal was better than it was the previous day. Curry excellent, rice perfect, naan bread was indescribably brilliant. It seems odd that the least complicated part of the meal would be the one that I remember. But, it was.

We walked back to the hotel, and I just had enough time for a shower before hitting a change of clothes, and of course, the free bar. I’d have been bang on time if I actually knew how to work the bloody shower. I am, and always will be a bath person, but when you don’t have enough time for one, a shower will have to do. I think I scalded my back and the top of my head about three times.

I arrived at the free bar at about 20:03, feeling gutted at myself that I’ve wasted 3 minutes of precious drinking time. Chris was already with Colin and Lynne. We made our way to the “Performance Area”, and sat through countless musical acts of very little value. I didn’t care. I had my armband. Someone else noticed I had the armband on, two Lancashire equivalents of “chavs”. It was really quite amusing. Now, as I’ve mentioned, I had the “white armband”, which granted me unlimited drinks, two at a time. These chavs wanted me to get two pints, one for them and one for me. That’s what I assume anyway, as I didn’t understand a word they said. Needless to say, I ignored their request, but found it amusing nonetheless.

According to the videos I’d taken, the night finished with a roaring rendition of “Hey Jude”. By this point, I was goosed, and as soon as the free bar ended, I called it a night, and headed back to the fourth floor, and my comfy, comfy bed…

I won’t bother writing a “journey home” entry. It was uneventful. More sleep, heavy rain, and a lorry in a ditch. I’m also happy to report that after a night in hospital, the lady who took ill on the other coach was released from hospital, and was able to travel back home with the rest of her party.

2010-07-19 02:42:26: Just been freaked out by a light bulb and now can’t sleep.

a few mornings ago, I witnessed an odd phenomenon which I simply can’t explain, but it made me think something was wrong with the electrics… I’m sure you’re all aware of energy saving bulbs, and the fact they have electrodes at either end of the tube (and of course, the basics of how fluorescent tubes work). I was lying in bed, and I noticed a flash, then another one, rather like an ambulance going past with its lights blaring. This happened every few seconds. I looked up, and noticed it was the light bulb doing this, even though the light was completely off. I unscrewed the bulb, put it back in, and the flash never reoccured.

Ferr-eaky.

2010-07-20 19:19:37 Blossom Garden chow mein. Best food ever

This was altogether a fun and interesting day. Mainly because we were hit by another one of those freaky storms, similar to what happened in 2003, but not quite as severe. It was my first day of the second week of day shifts. The fun and interesting part came because everything broke at work. Twice. Unfortunately, my usual drinking establishment, which I’d planned to attend that evening, turned out to be flooded because of the severe storm, so Daddykins picked me up from work, made an excellent detour to the Blosson Garden takeaway. Regular viewes may know that this is my favourite takeaway in the entire world, and it didn’t disappoint. I also received a present from the postie…

Yes, it’s an Xbox 360 controller, but for Windows. I don’t think that there’s any difference between these and a wired Xbox 360 pad, except they come with a driver disk and a few windows logos splattered about the place. Still, I got it half price, so if I don’t use it much, I’m not going to be overly bothered. I found out that it makes “Flatout: ultimate carnage” playable. To an extent.

2010-07-23 19:09:49 Old tapes, beer, then indian. How can tonight get any better?

It simply couldn’t. I spent the whole night wallowing through as many tapes as I could lay my hands on… in fact, I started to write this post:-

For many years, Mercuryvapour Towers has been a place where things go to die. Music, records, computers, cassette tapes, and wasps, if my recent contributions on flickr are anything to go by. For several years, I’ve been able to make use of most of these things (barring the wasps), however, I’ve not been able to play cassette tapes. There are years worth of memories buried in these tightly wound reels of magnetised plastic, but seeing as I’ve had no way to access them, they’ve been kicking around in random boxes, gathering dust, losing their oxide, and sadly getting damaged.

Well, that day was today! I now have it sat next to me, and I’m playing some of those old forgotten memories. Currently, I’m listening to “Everything I Do” by Bryan Adams, as recorded off “Radio Cracker” – a temporary radio station set up in Hartlepool for the Xmas season of 1991. It was the first and only Hartlepool based radio station for 12 years, before “Pool FM” got their temporary broadcasting license.

I still have the tape recorder, and yes, I’m listening to a tape while I’m typing this. Right now. Currently playing is a “The Sound of Silcence” I must have recorded off the radio in something like 1995… Home taping is killing music? Remember that? If I didn’t have these badly recorded radio versions, I’d have forgotten about the songs I taped, then would have never bought them on CD. Tee hee! Anyway, that’s a rant for another day!

“Big Red” was a cinnamon flavoured gum, and I thought it was truly epic. Clearly, nobody else did, and after being around for only a short preiod of time, the product was withdrawn, and it was forgotten about by everyone in the country, except me.

I had always held fond memories of it. Unfortunately, despite my love for it, I’d totally forgotten to bring any home with me. I returned home with about half a packet, which I made last until one particular post where I quite clearly snapped, or chewed my last piece of it. I can’t remember…

(Excerpt from http://www.mercuryvapour.co.uk/2007/08/01/no-i-havent-stopped/
A quick thing I will mention is that if anyone either goes to Germany, or the US/CANADA, you MUST bring me back at least 5 packs of Big Red chewing gum back. It’s awesome.

I never made the connection between a friend / work “colleague” (I hate that word) going on regular visits to her family in Germany, and my ability to acquire the afore mentioned tasty mastication device until very recently, say the end of last year. Rosi mentioned she was returning home for the holiday season (another phrase I hate! It’s Christmas!). Something clicked in my head. Maybe I was chewing some bland, mint flavoured UK gum. either, I asked her to bring me some “Big Red” back. I think she thought I was mad.

Unfortunately, she didn’t remember my request, but I was still hopeful that in a future trip I could convince her my love for this product was genuine.

Several weeks ago, she mentioned that she was going back to Germany…. every five minutes! This allowed me to build up a catchphrase of “Don’t forget my Big Red!” I was hopeful that she would remember.

Several weeks passed, and I returned to Employment Palace, with my usual look of a half-inflated and slightly manic-depressive beachball, only to have my spirits lifted by the sight of the following on my desk…

There were 2 sealed packets containing 15 sticks, and one that had been broken into, but I could hardly complain. The sealed packets contained 15 sticks, and there were only 4 removed from the open one. I gave a couple of more sticks away to the people who were curious what the fuss was all about (they also agreed that it was awesome), which still left me with about 36 sticks of the stuff.

Considering my wish was for someone to bring me 5 packets back, which I based on a 7 stick pack, 7×5+whatever was left = 35+. I was, and still am delighted. I’ve not seen Rosi to thank her yet, but I sent her a text as soon as I recieved my collection.

Unfortunately, I know that she doesn’t read this site, making the previous 539 words completely pointless,but if you approach me, and my breath smells of curry, rotting teeth and cinnamon, you now know why.

True fact: “Big Red” chewing gum isn’t actually red.

They’re bloody hot, but they can really perk up something bland like a tin of supermarket curry, or a packet of rice.

the chillies are the little green bits.Don’t eat the seeds raw. I did. Once. No amount of water could put the fire out.

I was lucky enough to pick up the last packet of these finger chillies. I finish pottering around Tesco, and head to the checkout with everything I’d bought.

I pile them all up when I notice there were chillies rolling along the conveyor belt. Yup, that last pack was the last one for a reason. There was a great big hole in the thing. Before I’d realised, the lady behind the checkout had scanned them. Gah! Now, considering that these were one of the things I’d travelled 3 miles for, I turned down the offer of a refund, and asked if I could have a replacement packet. even though I knowingly picked up the last packet, I’d hoped that there was one I’d missed, or there may have been some “out the back”, or whatever.

While the gopher disappeared to fetch me my replacement, the rest of my groceries were scanned. I paid for them, and the transaction was complete.

The gopher returned empty handed, and it was too late to give me a refund, so was pointed over to the customer services desk, who would be more than happy to hand over 89 shiny new pennies for my faulty product.

Off I toddle, with the gopher who explained the situation to the angry looking woman behind the desk. I handed over the receipt. She scanned over it several times, like a headmistress scrutinising the homework of a slightly dim child. She pointed at the receipt, and looked up at me, as if I’d smeared shit on her sofa…

“There are no finger chillies on here…”

She was right. The lady on the checkout hadn’t actually scanned them at all.

I leave, and load my stuff into the car, only to see this staring up at me…

Seeing as they weren’t scanned in the first place, I’m now technically a thief, meaning that this chilli is ‘hot’ in more than one sense…

UPDATE: After it had stared at me, for approximately six hours, resting on that section of the keyboard, I washed it under the tap and ate it. It must have taken me about half an hour, but I managed it.

The first part of the day was spent watching stuff that had been collected on the Sky+. this involved several episodes of Countdown. Unfortunately, there wasn’t going to be a lot happening in the early part of this particular day, as the car was in the garage after it snapped a spring or something, thanks to the state of one of the local roads.

Onto the night, then. Plans had been made with most of the people from work to attend the bowling alley on Brenda Road. It was the first time I’d been bowling since November 2005

I arrived at approximately 7:30, to find that the place was absolutely packed, but I was the only one there out of the proposed group. Oh, great. Things start going through my mind, like “Am I on my own? Is anyone else turning up?” I decided to wait outside, just in case anyone was going to ring my mobile. It was noisy inside.

Thankfully, the cars did indeed start pulling up, and before long, we had a group of about 16 of us. Unfortunately, Tuesday is apparently semi-pro night, so we had to wait until about 9 before we got a game. The price was £3 for the hour. It closed at 10, so we’d just got in. It was at this point, I began to fling my camera around in the hope to catch some epic shots. Unfortunately, this failed miserably, though I did think Matt got a good strike here:-

Unfortunately after I got home and checked the video, he hit the rail first. So technically, it didn’t count.

I finished last, as you can probably gather, though I did manage a strike. I might have to start going there, if I can find someone to go along with. there’s no point playing on your own.

After the bowling, we made our way to Lloyds, in Church Square. And yes, I really did wear this shirt…

Some random barfly stated that I looked like Timmy Mallet. Out of all the times I’ve worn that shirt, it’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to a compliment. Unfortunatelty, there’s a button fallen off it, so that’ll give me an excuse to never, ever wear it in public again. Awww.

After sharing a jug of some odd drink bought by Matt (possibly to celebrate his non-strike), it was time for everyone to begin departing. Some people had work in the morning, and some people wanted to attend the Indian. Guess which category I fell into.

So, the initial group of 16 had dwindled down to 4, and we headed off to the Dilshad for a load of grub.

As usual, the meal was delicious, and just as we were finishing, the clock struck midnight. Yup, I was now 30 years old. Daddykins sent me a text.

The second person to wish me happy birthday was Wayne, at an impressive 2 minutes past midnight, though obviously I didn’t get it until I got home. His email made me quickly realise how much of my life had disappeared…

“You are now twice as old as you were when we had our first talk on CB”.

He was right. The CB days were now half my life ago!

The 4 of us finished our meals, and headed off home in our respective taxis, and a good night was had by all. Well, certainly by me, at least, and I made my way up the long, winding gravel driveway of Mercuryvapour Towers at 1:13.

And now, onto the day itself. It started off early, around 5AM. This was mainly because I could feel the vindaloo on the move, and it was only a matter of time before it was indaloo (actually, alloverdaloo would be a better description). So, I was wide awake after only 4 hours sleep, and with an arse like the flag of Japan. I logged onto Facebook, and watched the happy birthday messages scroll past. Thanks to all of you who left a message, and for those who tried to talk to me, Facebook Chat is being a tart at the moment, and although I can see who sent me a message, I can’t actually see it. I’ve gone back to an earlier release of Firefox. That might help it.

Anyway, the morning consisted of my usual “Woo! I’m off work!” ritual – lie on the sofa and watch “Homes Under The Hammer”, followed by “to Buy or Not To Buy”, then “Cash In The Attic” (as long as Jenny Sodding Bond isn’t presenting it), followed by “Bargain Hunt”. Andy The Iridium Fan popped round during the preceedings, and dropped off my birthday card. He stayed for a few hours, and was amazed to find that he also liked amplifying the ends of songs just to get every last note out of them. An “interest” of mine which I thought nobody else shared. A bit like streetlights. He also helped me dispose of the large boxes that Beastbits2 had came in.

ATIF stayed for 3 hours, 22 minutes and 45 seconds, and after that I began watching some more stuff that had accumulated on the Sky+. I was absolutely knackered, as I’d only managed a couple of hours sleep, and decided to go to bed “for an hour”. This was at 4PM. Next thing I know, it’s 10PM. I must have been more knackered than I thought. The day was finished off with the obligatory “few cans”, and I headed off to bed some time around 4ish.

So, that was the story of my first full day of being into my 4th decade. Not bad going considering I wasn’t actually going to blog about it. And now, I’m off to take photos of a pothole, or I might wait until the chippy is open, and kill two birds with one stone. Pothole photography and chips. Being 30 is AWESOME.

But, it’s November now, and exactly a month before the conclusion of the “Before I’m 30″ section of the site. Ugh. Something did happen a couple of weeks ago, which I personally couldn’t believe, and it happened in Asda… I started blogging about it, but didn’t finish it, because I was so filled with rage, that if I’d have gone any further with it, I’d have smashed something…

I’ve truly had it with Asda. Today was the last straw, and I shall never step foot through the doors of their sorry organisation as long as I draw breath.

“Well, I’m not going to serve him either because I know he’s going to give them to you”…

That’s where I stopped typing! Needless to say, I walked out without the beer, and . Quite unbelievably, for anyone who knows me, I have stayed out of Asda since that incident, and now, I can’t see any reason to ever go back.

There WAS one reason. It was the only place I knew which stocked “Tymbark”. Now, I’ll not be surprised if you’ve never heard of it, as it’s Polish. That’s Polish, as in, it originates from Poland, and not the cleaning product. My dietary habits, no matter how bad they are, have yet to see me consuming Mr. Sheen. It is a fantastic blend of cherry and apple juice, which was stocked in Asda’s “Ethnic” aisle.

Whilst in Tesco the other day, I was delighted to find that they also stocked the very same product! Therefore, I officially have no reason to ever stagger through the doors of Asda again!

Right. Erm, that’s the first thing. I’ve actually forgotten the reason why I was going to write this post.

So far, being 29 has been positively shit, with major things happening such as my dad’s heart attack (which I shall refer to as “the incident” from now on). Anyway, enough of that, on with the update and you’ll see what I mean. Maybe.

Sooo, in the order they’re posted on the above page…

1. Pass my driving test

I have had this on the back burner for some time now, as there is absolutely no way I could afford to run a car. the price of fuel, tax and insurance keeps going up and up. Not to mention the cost of the lessons. I found out last night just how expensive they’ve become.

However, following the incident, this is something that I am having to seriously consider.

2. Get a new job.

In this economic climate, I’m actually happy I’ve got a job.

3. Cut down on drink

Epic fail.

4. Save money

Thanks to the abandonment of the 2009 holiday, I’ve managed to actually save some money. So, go me.

5. Finish projects I’ve started, but never finished.

As I mentioned on the “Before I’m 30″ page itself, I’m not too sure what I meant by that. I believe I may have been referring to things such as cataloguing records, CDs, and their ultimate conversion to MP3. This is still ongoing. The Paris video is still incomplete, however, thanks to the problems I’ve been having with Beastbits.

6. Throw some shit out.

As of yet, I’ve not been in the situation where I’ve felt like I need a proper clear-out. It’s hard to say what triggers my occasional bouts of life laundry, where a load of personal belongings end up in the wheelie bin, but it just hasn’t happened recently.

Instead of throwing shit out, I’ve actually started to become organised. This can be seen in my record/CD catalogue thing. A few years ago, I would have never dreamt of doing such a thing.

Oh, and I was planning to use the ultimate excuse… “Which recycling box DO you put broken records into?”, as I have a subconscious feeling that the recent (well, several years ago now) switchover to a recycling scheme means that I’m less likely to throw stuff away as I don’t know which bin to put it in without risking a fine.

7. Lose weight / exercise more.

It’s hard to say if I’ve actually lost or gained weight as the batteries in the scales didn’t get put in until August. I’m under 14 stone, however, but I’d like that to go down further. I still walk pretty much everywhere I can.

8. Try new foods.

Thanks to the incident, this is something that does appear to be going quite well, in fact I’d say it’s going the best out of everything so far. Not so much trying new foods, but watching what I consume.

Post-incident worries now see me in Asda, studying the nutrition labels, meaning that my diet contains less shit than it did previously. That can only be good.

9. Find true love

Added as a bit of a joke, obviously. Love life and relationships is something I never post about on here. I made the mistake several years ago, and those who know me in real life know I don’t like to talk about it. Thefore blogging and “other stuff” is completely separate. If it makes me look like a loner, so be it.

10. Bake a loaf of bread

I think this was one of the half-baked (geddit?) ideas I came up with while bored out of my tiny mind at Employment Palace. Trust me, I did consider it shortly after placing the update. Honestly. I even went down the bakery aisle in Asda, a place which was foreign to me and downright scary. I added the price of the flour, yeast, water, baking tin, then thought “Fuck it, I’m off to get a Kingsmill”. Bread is in wide supply, so I have no reason to bake my own. Nine months after adding this to the list, I’ve decided I no longer have the inclination or interest to do this.

So, that’s your update. I’m off to bed.

Anyway, yes, the past week since the wasp attack has been spent with me doing computery stuff, as I try to get rid of the few niggling bugs I’ve had with the machines I own. I’m happy to say that these fixes have been mostly successful

Firstly, I managed to get the mysql server running on scribcam.co.uk. I was getting a message that some of the system tables were corrupt, every time I tried to change any of the parameters, or create a database. This was likely because I’d upgraded the mysql software, but copied all of the data files from a (very) old version, including the system tables. It really didn’t like it. I’d forgotten that the majority of the mysql settings are actually stored in one of those data files. Whoops.

I left it chugging for a few weeks, as a few apps on the server relied on it. It got to a point though, where it was useless to me, as I couldn’t use it as a backup server. I had the idea of dumping the tables, reinstalling mysql, recreating the users and then reimporting them. It was all bound to go horribly wrong.

It didn’t, and within about 5 minutes, I was wondering why it had all gone so very, very smoothly. There is no answer. It just did. That was a bonus. I was expecting to fight with cryptic error messages and stuff I didn’t really understand. Didn’t happen.

Last night came the greatest challenge yet. You may, or may not know, that thanks to an absolute disaster with Windows XP, and my inability to perform a clean install of it on Beastbits, I have been using ubuntu as a substitute until I get a new machine, and I’m liking it.

Now, thanks to the many hardware problems Beastbits has, I decided it was not a good idea to keep all of my data and the OS itself on one drive, and decided to separate the two. Since I installed Ubuntu, there’s been a 250Gb drive used as the system drive, and data, and a 500Gb drive doing nothing, except holding inaccessible data. Last night, I made the decision that Windows was never going back on here, so I thought it would be nice to have my 500Gb drive as the data partition, and the 250Gb as the OS drive.

Sounds complicated enough, and sure it would kill an hour or 6.

Again, this went oddly well, and I’ll explain in a very quick, shit, and probably incorrect way of doing this…

Mount drive and partition, in my case, this was /dev/sdb1 and mounted to /media/New olume
Check all data is backed up
Unmount drive (sudo umount /dev/sdb1)
Load gparted (sudo gparted)
FInd out gparted isn’t installed by default
“sudo apt-get install gparted”
load gparted again
Delete partitons
Create ext3 partition, and name it “Home”, just to complicate matters
Have beer and/or wank whilst drive builds itself
Wonder what happens, when drive doesn’t appear
Reboot
Watch with glee, as newly formatted drive is mounted to /media/Home
Cry in horror, as your normal user doesn’t have write permissions to the drive
Out comes Google.
“sudo chown -R username /dev/sdb1″
Watch with glee as drive becomes writable
“cp -a /home/* /media/Home” (I think)
Construct a small fort from CD cases. Learn to play the recorder. Sort your blood cells into alphabetical order. Basically, I had 133Gb of data to copy across. I’m trying to get across that this took an age.
With the help of spike1 from #speccy (which has now moved home, it used to be on Astrolink, it’s now on irc.coldfront.net ), run a check on the copied data by comparing file sizes
Burst into tears when you realise that there’s a 1Gb discrepancy between the original data and the copied data.
Breathe a sigh of release when you mounted /home/www during the copy procedure so you could move mirc across.
Confirm this with… er, a command I’ll enter later, as I don’t have it to hand, which creates the two directory listings, then compares them.
Edit /etc/fstab
Insert line “/dev/sda1 /home ext3 defaults 0 2″
Bonus step: login as root, remove the old /home directory. This isn’t necessary, as linux will automatically mount the new mountpoint over the top of the previous one. I did it for completeness, and because I’m a rebel, and also wanted to see how much space the OS itself used.
Reboot. Hope for the best. Actually, I don’t think you have to reboot, but I did.
Scream with joy when “df” reads something like the following:-

Filesystem            Size  Used Avail Use% Mounted on
/dev/sda1             227G  3.9G  212G   2% /
/dev/sdb1             459G  127G  309G  30% /home

Feel a bit guilty when you realise there’s 212Gb free which you’ll probably never be able to use.

Well, that went on a bit longer than I expected it to. I forgot there were so many steps. Let’s move on quickly. Sooo, er… I happened to be walking around the confusing, brightly lit aisles of my local Tesco the other day, and noticed something new. Yes, there is now a rival of the humble Pot Noodle, in the form of something called “The Nation’s Best”, which are manufactured under the “Golden Wonder” brand.

Now, the first thing that struck me as odd is the use of the Golden Wonder brand, was for many years, they used to manufacture the original Pot Noodles.

As a self confessed slob, and a shit cook, Pot Noodles are a staple part of my diet. Well, at least when I’m at work they are. I was interested how these new noodles fared up to the old veteran of the lazy man’s cupboard.

No “convenience food” would be worth its salt (and most of them have plenty of that!) without a curry variety, and I’m pleased to say these also have one, in the form of “Chip Shop Curry”. Awesome. Noodles in a curry sauce, with raisins and apple.

The pots are slightly smaller than your average Pot Noodle. One bonus is that the lid of the pots is plastic, which means that it’s less likely to get punctured. If there’s one annoyance I have about the original Pot Noodles is the ability to burst the foil top, and the powder going everywhere, meaning that everything sharing the same bag also stinks of Pot Noodle, for weeks afterwards.. No problems like that with these!

So, I’ve talked enough about the packaging. What about the actual stuff itself? Well, to be honest, it seems a little devoid of ingredients. There’s the noodles, but where’s the dried out veg? Nowhere to be seen! At least when you eat the veg in a pot noodle, you can actually pretend that it’s doing you some good.

There are little bits of “apple”, and even though raisins were promised, upon initital inspection, these are few and far between. This is probably a bonus, as rehydrated raising tend to be one of the nastiest things that can ever be consumed. Except for sushi. (True fact: I only mentioned sushi there because I’m listening to the extended version of the 1992 hit “SuperMarioLand” which features the line “I’ve eaten sushi in Japan, but there ain’t no place like SuperMarioLand. Oh, and the thought of eating raw fish turns my stomach)

In conclusion, bring back Pot Rice.

Idiots.

Firstly, the exciting news is that the Google Streetview car has been spotted in Hartlepool – officially. Now, I can’t remember if I blogged about a possible sighting of it several months ago, spotted by a relative of a friend, shortly after the partial UK map came online. It still remains a mystery if that was Google, or something else.

However, Andy The Iridium Fan spotted the elusive mechano-beast this morning, as I received a text from him…

11:27 Andy: “I am going to be on quite a few streets on Google Street map in my area. I followed the car
11:29 Me: “Any Photos of it?”
11:32 Andy: “No photos. the car was an Astra. They will be on the net in a years time”

Shortly after, I took a walk to Morrisons, in order to get Daddykins some food. It’s slightly easier to get to than Asda, yet the choice in some departments is lacking. You may remember this particular branch of Morrisons having a total “epic fail” moment, as described on ItsJims blog. I still chuckle to myself about that, and am happy that he managed to get a photo. Another reason I chose Mo’s over Asda was the recent discovery of Chicken Vindaloo. I know I really should cut down on the ready meals, but these are the taste explosion I’ve missed for so very long. More on those later.

Anyway, back to Streetview. I had hoped that the walk would allow me to also see the afore-mentioned black vehicle. Sadly not. The walk there, and the walk back went truly without incident (unless you count the disaster I faced whilst trying to eat an incredibly delicate mince pie on the way home with two bags of shopping under my arm). I have yet to see the Street View car.

Later tonight, Andrew texted me again…

20:32 Andy: “I caught up with the Google car and took some photos”

Bimler! Tomorrow, I shall either update the gallery with them, or post them on here. Or both, depending on how things are.

I have been catching up on my darts playing recently, due to the close proximity of where Daddykins sits, should he need me. Several days ago I did, what can be only described as an “impossible shot”…

No, don’t worry, I can’t work out what happened either. What I do know that the flight was pierced irreparably. Obviously.

Well, I’m shattered. Another “early night” for me, and undoubtedly another trip to Netto for me. Or Morrisons. Or Even Lidl??? Naaaaaaaaaaaah.

As can be guessed by the title, you’ll be unsurprised to find that I will be talking about darts, streetlights and an update on the new Lidl store that opened several months in Hartlepool.

So, why am I starting off this jaunty little entry by talking about darts? Well, the answer is that I have just ordered me a dartboard. My current one was used from 1993 until 2003, when my room got redecorated and redesigned, and unfortunately, there was nowehere in the house that it could practically get put up.

Or so I thought. It occured to me, not so long back, that there was the perfect place for it… the off-shot, with the board being placed on the wash house door.

Some of you will know the off-shot as the “back passage”, but thanks to the wonderful world of double-entendre, this particular phrase can no longer be uttered without the sound of schoolboy sniggering.

Anyway, it’s perfect. I don’t have photos as of yet, but with a bit of love and attention, it will be a perfect darts oche. Even better, it’s near the fridge, has its own toilet (which doesn’t flush) and is “soundproof”. By soundproof, I mean that it’s outside of the house. One problem with having a dartboard in the house before, was that no matter where it was, it was guaranteed to echo throughout the house each time I threw the darts. And seeing I’m awake more times through the night than I am through the day, my playing time would have been restricted.

Seeing as it is external, this obviously isn’t going to be the case, and I will be able to play whenever I want without the fear of waking anyone. The only thing that has slept in the wash house in the past 70 years is hundreds of spiders, probably a mouse or two, and a bird.

An update on the bird, by the way, which I hope you remember from a couple of postings ago. It is sad news, I’m afraid. The nest was indeed abandoned after the run-in with Daddykins, which is enough to scare anyone, never mind a poor innocent bird. So, the last time I ever saw it, was when it flew past me on its way out of the off-shot. Sob.

There has also been an update on the Streetlighting front. Andrew D has given me a mint-condition Revo Prefect!

This is the 2nd mercury lantern, and the first top-entry one in my collection. If you’re wondering what they look like in situ, a side entry can be seen in this photo and a top-entry version very similar to mine here.

Well, for those of you still awake, this is word 499, which will make that previous “which”, word 500. So, onto Lidl.I have been several times now since its opening back in February, and although some parts of it are dubious (in parts, it’s more like a garden centre), I am happy with it.

I’ve been trying their own-brand stuff instead of going for my normal snobbish method of just going for the branded stuff, and some of it is pretty spectacular. Firstly, the pop. It’s lovely. The “cola” is really nice. and something like 44p a bottle. Unfortunately, I didn’t keep the recept, so prices at the time of going to press, are probably wrong. The “farmhouse” bread is nice and…erm, bready, and priced at something like 88p. the biccies are perfectly acceptable, though the appear to have ordered too many “Butter Shortbread Rings”, as they’re available for £1 a box, and stacked on almost every surface, including a huge, random pile near the tills.

The frozen curries (heh, who’d have expected this from me?) are EXACTLY the same as the frozen ones produced for Asda, even down to the cremated pieces of chicken, crunchy black bits in the rice, and the overall imbalance of the rice to sauce ratio. Not that I’m complaining, as they are currently only £1 each. They’re perfect for work, and £1.60 cheaper than the ones I buy from Asda.

My overall favourite thing about Lidls BY FAR, are their crisps. Their “snack” range is by far the best I’ve ever tasted. They consist of “Onion Rings”, “Bacon Rashers”, “Cheesy Wheels (!)” and “Salt and Vinegar Sticks”. 15 packs for something like £1.59. The onion rings are perfect. Not too hard, not too greasy, not too strong, and they have that whole “melty” aspect to them.

OK, they’re the main plus points. Now, onto the downsides.

Firstly, I’m not much of a shopper, so I never get more than a few things at a time, therefore you’d expect a basket instead of a trolley would be ideal. And, I’d agree with you, except the fact that Lidl DO NOT HAVE BASKETS. You have the choice of lugging a great big trolley around, or carrying everything you wish to purchase. It’s also another one of those “£1 deposit” trollies too. The second time I went, I was actually interested in getting quite a few things. I entered the shop, expecting to pick up a basket, only to find there was none. I turned back on myself to head back out of the shop, only to find that it’s a one-way door, and I COULDN’T get a trolley. Joy. This was the same day that I caused the cash machine at the petrol station to reboot, so I was in a pisser of a mood anyway. This just made it worse. Not only that, but one of the things I’d purchased had a 30% off sticker on it, yet they still charged me full price. I was already at home by the time I’d realised.

Secondly, living in the “catchment” area means that every week or so, some guy comes round and sticks a shit-load of leaflets through your door. At 7AM. The dogs hear the letterbox and proceed bark the fucking house down for 10 minutes. Oddly, the dogs seem to think that the letterbox is the entrance to hades, or something, as every time something comes through it, they do their best to destroy whichever evil item passes through its brush-lined entrance.

Another thing that gets me about shops such as Lidl, is their totally made-up “brand names”. I’ll use the examples of the products I thought the other day…

“Freeway” Cola.
“Kights” Onion Rings
“Rowan hill Bakery” Bread
“Kan Pur Garden” Chicken Jalfrezi

These are “brand” names owned by Lidl, so why bother with the different names? Just stick a big yellow “Lidl” logo on everything and have done with it. There’s probably 1,001 reasons why they don’t do that, but at least the orange juice I purchased was generic in every way.

In other news, we’ve just had our “swine flu” leaflet dropped through the door by the friendly postman (and yes, the dogs went nuts AGAIN). I called the swine flu hotline the other day, all I got was crackling…

B’dum Tsssh.

So, in order to convey to you just how chocolatey it is (or, not as the case may be), I shall devour it whilst blogging. First of all, here is the item itself…

Now, in its wrapped state, one thing is immediately apparent. It’s not actually a square. If memory serves me correctly, it’s one of those “marketing gimmick” things, where some guy several years ago, (probably) stood in front of a board of executives, and blathered “Right, get this guys, let’s call them Squares, but actually make them rectangles”…. I have a feeling it may have been one of those “Friday afternoon” ideas.

Now, the RK “Square” was marketed in the US for many decades before it reached good old Blighty. I’m sure it was the mid 90s when they first appeared on the shelves. Originally, they were just marshmallow and rice, however other varieties soon crept onto the market, such as the caramel ones, the chocolate version which I present to you today, and the massively unpopular bacon variety. (You made that last one up, didn’t you? – Ed)

Um… yes.

Now, not being an overly keen fan of marshmallow, I have pretty much avoided RK squares. I do still remember having my very first one. I seem to recall it coincided with purchasing a new item of kitchen apparatus,such as a microwave, or washer. Can’t remember exactly. I wasn’t impressed.

Either way, I do like chocolate, and Rice Krispies. Oddly, I’m not a fan of Coco Pops, however.

I’m expecting this to be a bit like the home-made “Rice Krispie cake”, only ever so slightly more processed. I can just picture a young Jamie, stood at the cooker with my mother, watching some old Easter eggs melt into a brown goo, throwing in some cereal, and then scooping the whole gooey mixture into one of those paper cake… things, and allowing to set in the fridge. To this day, Rice Krispie cakes are probably the only thing I’ve successfully cooked which hasn’t resulted in food poisoning, the smoke alarm being set off, or the dogs receiving a hearty meal of inedible slop.

The list of ingredients (which is longer than your arm) confirms that it’s certainly not your average cake. It appears that there’s only 10% “chocolate chunks”, but something called “chocolate flavour coating” on the outside. Hmmm.

Anyway, I’ve blabbed on for several paragraphs now, and I haven’t even unwrapped it yet. Well, here goes.

Smells nice. Looks nice. There doesn’t appear to be much “chocolate flavour coating”. And now, the bite…

*crunch*

Oh, man, this is nice.

You’ll have to believe me when I say that I typed all of the above two days ago, and am only now just picking up where I left. I’ve had 48 hours to try and put into words just what these are like, and the best I can come up with is a Toffee Crisp on speed. Not very descriptive, I know, but hell, I wouldn’t kick one of these out of bed. Oh, wait, yes I will, it’ll probably leave crumbs.