1. Move house while simultaneously studying for a degree full time, working in a Big Gay Department Store part time (but doing extra hours because it’s Christmas), applying for all manner of industrial placements, completing work on assignments, revising for imminent maths exams, visiting family, and doing a spot of Christmas shopping here and there too.
Okay, so I realise that this “list” only consists of one thing; but it is a big thing, and I can put a big tick next to it. It is partly for this reason that it’s been all quiet on the blog front for slightly longer than usual.
The main reason of course is that I am quite lazy; even with all the above shenanigans going on, I still seem to be able to find the time to get splendidly drunk and see bands.
Like on Friday, when I rushed back from work to go and see Pelican and High on Fire co-headlining at The Cooler. Despite driving like my hair was on fire, I entirely missed the opening support act (whoever they were), and a fair chunk of Pelican’s set; though I did still get to hear them play the epic March To The Sea in its entirety (minus the none-fucking-heavier flute solo that appears on the EP version). They were truly excellent.
As were High on Fire. They were like men a thousand feet tall made of magma, crushing cities underfoot as they blasted out face-melting stoner doom. Sadly, no-one else seemed to care particularly; possibly due to the fact that High on Fire had played the very same venue just three months previously, and subsequently most of the people that turned up had done so to see Pelican. They still played hard, and the people at the front were still into it... but in the rest of The Cooler the apathy had reached fever pitch.
About a week before this I went to a house party with Sam and The Boy, thrown by some chick Sam knows from his English Civil War re-enactment group. It was mostly full of arseholes that had quite loud opinions about why Bristol Uni students were just far better people than UWE students, and that had a good handle on what clothing was fashionable but had no idea how to wear it. The three of us sat in the corner drinking rough cider out of the carton and not talking to anyone; Sam and I criticized the girls' dress sense (like we now a goddamn thing about style and fashion) whilst The Boy re-arranged the letters on the fridge to form a great tirade of profanity. The words "cockpipe" and "arse candle" featured quite heavily. We all got very drunk, and hardly got into any fights at all - so I think we had a good time...
And on Tuesday I enjoyed a splendid evening of getting drunk with the RoboJew, who was himself in good spirits having finally completed work on a prototype of his final year project; a robot that will balance on two wheels. It's still in its early stages, and of course there is still work to be done; the robot does not yet have any kind of primary armament such as a flamethrower, spinning axe-blades or an acid-spraying gun of some kind. Also, it does not exactly balance on two wheels... mostly it just does a lot of falling over as the program grossly over-corrects any slight imbalance, and sends the robot smashing to the ground. My patented Mech Eng solution of making the wheels square was not met with any great enthusiasm.
And so there you have it. Work + School + Moving House + Drinking + Christmas = Rubbish (apart from the drinking).
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