I've got trench foot. The Ladyfriend and I went to Louise and Jamie's wedding on Saturday - please click here for pictures - and it rained, heavily. I've never seen rain like it, it fell in Biblical proportions. It didn't spoil a thing mind you. Infact, I've never been to a better wedding. It felt like Carry On up the Khyber as we sat dining in a marquee whilst outside merry hell was let loose. It was thunder and lightening but it wasn't very frightening. It was British stiff upper lip stuff. What made it all the more poignant was that the marquee was erected on a cricket pitch with the lavvies in the pavillion. Between courses I had to answer the call of nature which meant me, a brolly, with my chin up walking barefoot across silly point, you can't get anything more English than that.
It was a bit of a late night - the skin was set like cement on the top of the Ovaltine - so I'll wind up now but if you want to see a bit of wedding dancing click here

Vic just a Minute get in touch, I've lost your email!

On my lunch time walk to Tesco I stepped on something. It made me skid slightly and my immediate thought was that I had happened upon some dogs mess and I would spend the best part of this week trying to be rid of its odour. I couldn't look down and kept on walking, if I had examined my sole it would have been obvious to passing traffic that I had trodden in dog muck and I couldn't have that.
I carried on walking scrapping my right foot slightly. I kept thinking though that it couldn't have been dog muck as the texture wasn't quite right, I decided that it was a mouse, frog or baby bird which in a way was worse.
On my way back from the supermarket I retraced my steps half not wanting to see the horror that awaited me but determined to put my mind to rest. I held my breath at the point of insertion and saw a big old soggy piece of ginger. How odd and how sad that someone's tea had been ruined.

It was the Ladyfriend's mother's birthday on wednesday and as she is advanced in years the only place to take the old girl was the Harvester restaurant. They serve simple fayre there and she likes to suck on Fish and Chips - everything else is too hard. As a special treat we decided to take the car out to Windsor and go to the Virginia Water branch, this was a bad idea, it was packed to the rafters. We don't like waiting so we went back to a Toby Carvery which we passed enroute.
From the outside it looked menacing, CCTV cameras adorned every corner of the building but we were starving so we went in.
Whilst we were digesting God only knows how many strains of growth hormones I watched through the window at a car that had pulled up. A group of boys got out. I sneered at them (I tend to do this with the young a lot these days) but as they came nearer I realised that they were the group Eton Road who failed to win last year's X Factor.
They looked ever so tired and I daresay they had just come back from perfoming in a dive of a gay club in Magaluf. One of them came in and spoke to the waitress. I can't be sure, but I think they asked for a secluded area so that they would not be ambushed by fans. This made me laugh. We left at this point so we will never know if they put on an impromptu concert or not. Bless 'em, this time next year one of them will probably be working there.

I've been dabbling with Facebook - I've been slipping off the cultural radar just lately so I thought I'd take the plunge and see what all the fuss is about. I've got myself a profile now and have a few friends already. You can ask people to be your pal, I've approached Morrissey but I'm not holding out too much hope there, he seems a closed book.

Spend Spend Spend

The flat's sold, the money's in the bank and so the ladyfriend and I set off to a monstrous shopping mall yesterday to spend, spend, spend. Our plan was an orgy of consumption, to return home with hands slashed to ribbons by the weight of shopping bag handles, ears ringing with the sound of the tills and hair all static like having tried on too many man made fibres......but no, we were hard pushed to shell out £50.
We were in a position to let loose the gross national product of a small african country but the biggest purchase we made all day was the parking ticket. This won't do, this won't do at all.
We ended up on the NEXT website when we got home and ordered a few slacks from there, it wasn't quite as much fun but it gave us a sense of fullness. The catalogue is a big bugger, it came at the weekend. I love big post. I get an enormous thrill from large parcels, it is indeed one of my favourite things. So you can imagine my fury when the ladyfriend's mum - who has old timer's - thought it was hers and opened it! I was beside myself.

I am fortunate enough to be able to walk to work and in the mornings I pass by several mums and their kids on the way to school. It's great in itself that they do not clog the roads but these are the sort of mums who don't run a car if you know what I mean? Well, if I have to spell it out they are pikey types, single mothers, chavs whatever the vernacular is. Their little convoys of children of all nationalities rumble along with a peppering of blue language but this is not my problem, what I find the most offensive is the fabric softener.
I have noticed that people who smoke heavily think that a couple of generous cupfulls of conditioner in their wash will mask the fact that their house smells like a packet of streaky bacon. This is all well and good if you can afford the good stuff but the young mums I pass can only run to blue stripe. It's a good five minutes before it clears, they are mere spots on the horizon and cheap jasmine florabunda still clings to the air.

This weekend the Ladyfriend and I hired a ford transit van to move our stuff out of the flat in Eastbourne. I must say we made a good couple of truckers. It was fantastic. At first I was more than a little apprehensive when I saw the size of the beast having never driven an estate car let alone a bloody great van but after a few minutes I was in love. It's a completely different motoring experience, you can see for miles, over the tops of hedgerows and into other cars to ooogle the crumpet, magic.
Four days to go and our seaside retreat will be ours no more - along with the associated bills and stress. It's been fun helping to inflate property prices so the locals can not afford them and enlarge our carbon footprint on the M25 but I will be glad to see the back of it.