#11 Paint

If I see another tin of paint, I will go insane. I've spent the whole of the last week re-decorating the house. In one case, re-decorating and then re-re-decorating. Or un-decorating. Basically, painting the bathroom one colour, and then painting it back to how it was before because I'd used "the wrong sort" of green. Grrr.

As you may have guessed, then, there isn't really a great deal for me to write about this week. Even now, my clothes smell of paint, my hands smell of paint brush cleaner, and the whole house just smells. It's a nice mixture of white "Kitchen & Bathroom" and toxic green tile paint. Blind people would have it easy in my gaff now: they could navigate by how strong the whiff of emulsion is.

I have managed to blag a lot more albums to copy off people, though. Inspired by last week's anniversary of the Britpop single war between Blur and Oasis - and the whole night of programmes I taped about it off BBC Four - I really wanted to get hold of some proper Britpop albums. After all, it was the music I grew up with, it's just I never had the money to buy it with... how times have erm, changed.

I managed to get Blur's legendary Parklife - a sadly disappointing collection of tracks, bar 'Parklife' and 'Girls and Boys', Graham Coxon's nothing-like-Britpop-but-can-you-see-the-clever-link-there-and-also-excellent Happiness in Magazines, and Oasisessesiseez' Don't Believe The Truth. Which is also not proper Britpop. But it is great.

I haven't listened to them all yet (there were more, I'm not lazy), but one track fascinates me. It's Graham Coxon's 'Bittersweet Bundle of Misery'. Not exactly a happy-clappy title, I agree. But within the opening few bars, this song reminds me of no less than three other songs in my collection:

Caution: Music aficionados only beyond this point!

1> 'Meantime' by The Futureheads (opening bars)
2> 'Fit But You Know It' by The Streets (guitar rift)
3> 'First Of The Gang To Die' by Morrissey (opening bars) - the only Morrissey song that Croasdell likes

Why not try this game yourself at home? You're not painting, are you?

#10 Results

A-level results day was yesterday. I needed an A in English Literature, another A and a B to study English Lit at Sheffield University from October... and I mean needed - I had no plan B, so a gap year of temp work loomed if I didn't get the grades.

Luckily, it's all worked out OK!

A - English Literature
A - AVCE Business
B - History
B - Physics

It was news for most of my mates too. Well done to all of them (and special gold stars to everyone who got a full house of four As - Elyse, Helena, Woody and Claire Mac from my old school). Look out for an extremely clichéd and embarassing photo of some of them in next week's local newspapers... I'm sure a few of the photos will find their way onto this site somehow...

Needless to say the establishments selling alcohol in Dartford did particularly rude trade yesterday. After filing into the Oddfellows at opening time and enjoying a few warm-up drinks, we finally managed to buy some alcohol from the Iceland checkout boy (who clearly didn't have any maths qualifications, failing to work out that someone born in March 1987 was, by now, 18 years old). Then it was an afternoon at Frazer's, a bizarre hot and crowded trip to Air at 11pm, back to Frazer's and a few hours kip on the floor. Class.

Quote of the week
Frazer (on rising petrol prices): "It used to cost Nicola £20 to fill up her car - now it's over £30"
Telfer: "Why?"
Bozz: "Because she's had the tank made bigger"
Telfer: "Oh."

#09 Wheels

Monday last, and my first drive out in my car: the petrol gauge is hovering in the red zone, but that's OK because there's a BP garage at the end of my route. All I have to do is fill her up there, and then I've got plenty left in the tank to get home. Or at least, that was the plan.

The advantage of buying a car off of a mechanic is that you know the car will be in pretty good nick. He's fitted it with new tyres, a new exhaust, installed a new radio. Trouble is, he'd also installed a new petrol cap. One that needs a key. A key that he still had.

As if getting stuck in a queue at the petrol station wasn't bad enough - a white van man and a taxi driver in front of me, both on their mobiles and neither in a great hurry - finding out you can't get the petrol cap open is even more annoying. So I had a car, but I couldn't drive it again until Wednesday.

In-between doing family and neighbours odd DIY jobs for a little petrol money, I finally got the chance to drive out on my own. Nothing major at first - just around the town or through the Longfield lanes - but by Thursday I felt confident enough to drive to Rasell's house for an evening BBQ. Here's where the trouble begins. I was concentrating so hard on missing his next-door neighbour's car when trying to park, that I missed his next-door neighbour's garden wall.

Thanks very much to Rasell, his mate Tony, and his dad for helping change the wheel. Luckily, the tyre was still in tact, so it only needed a mallet to knock the dent out of the hub. At least I know now that I can drive, but more practice at parking is required. And lining up at the Dartford Toll Booths as well: at least I could reach on the second attempt...

#08 July

Well, I'm back from my Summer holidays - of which more in a moment - but first, a catch-up of everything that's happened since my last blog entry.

When I wrote blog 7, I hadn't seen the day's news. It wasn't until a couple of hours later that - inbetween watching the cricket - I happened to be flicking through the pages of Teletext. The front page didn't grab my attention at first, appearing to be the usual run-of-the-mill top story: terrorist attacks in some foreign land, hundreds injured, many feared dead... What did make me take notice was the precise location: Sharm al-Sheikh. Before then, those two and a half words had only made me laugh for sounding like a bizarre milkshake. But then they suddenly reminded me that that was the same resort that Tom and his mates were staying at. I don't mind telling you that it scared me sh**less. Thanks be to God that they all managed to come away completely unharmed, albeit shaken up, despite the fact the bombs exploded only yards away from the pub they were in at the time.

After coming home on the next available flight, Tom came down the pub for a couple of drinks down at the Tollgate. Frazer, Adèle and Elyse joined us, and Mandeep and Alan/Adam/Alanwade managed to pull themselves away from the lure of Robbie Baker's party for an hour to say hello. What a fool I was for daring to organise something that clashed with such an important event on the social calendar.

The Friday before all this, myself and Frazer managed to lose all our funds on a race night. It was all for charity, so at least someone will benefit from our foolishness, but the decision to buy the horse that had both won the previous race (and so was unlikely to again) and use up all our spare cash on it was probably not the most sensible. My bank balance was alreday suffering, and the only other credit I held was with Blue Sqaure - that is, until I'd placed my bets on this year's Mercury Music Prize:

• £10 freebet on the Go! Team at 16-1
• £2 on Antony & The Johnsons at 16-1
• ...and a whole £1.25 - oh yes, there's big money at stake here - on personal favourites Maxïmo Park at 10-1

Knowing my luck, MIA will take home the prize.


As I said, I've just got back from a week-long holiday in Jersey. It was a nice, relaxing week, and as a result I've got very little to say about it. Other than it would be nice to visit again, but probably only when I'm 65.

Finally, in more exciting news: Another drain on the inheritance. I've finally got round to getting myself a car. Laugh if you must, but the 1993 Ford Fiesta LX is one hell-of-a motor. Alright, maybe not with only a 1.1 engine - but a car is a car, and at £300 you can't complain. It may be grey, but I don't care. My uncle is bringing it over to my house tomorrow morning and then I'll be hitting the road. Or crawling to the petrol station, at least.

PS: This week I've managed to get copies of the albums from Rilo Kiley, Death Cab For Cutie (they were on an episode of The OC, OK?), Editors, Hot Hot Heat and The Strokes. So expect some reviews at some stage or another. Either that or a selection of obscure lyrics.